Page 22 of Hunted to the Altar (Caputo Crime Family #3)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

N ina

That morning, my body was still tangled in the soft, expensive sheets, and every muscle ached with the memory of Samuel. My lips still felt swollen, my skin hypersensitive, as if his touch had branded me. But the satisfaction I had felt in the moment now curdled into something dark and heavy.

Regret.

I rolled over, pulling the sheets with me as if I could wrap myself in them and block out the world—block out him.

My gaze flicked to the empty side of the bed.

He was gone, of course. Samuel never stayed, not really.

Even when he was physically present, there was always a part of him that seemed untouchable, locked away.

A lump rose in my throat as I stared at the rumpled pillow where his head had been. What had I done? What kind of woman allowed herself to fall into bed with a man like him? A man who killed without remorse, who saw people as pawns in his twisted game of power?

I pushed myself up, the cool air biting at my skin as the sheets fell away.

My reflection in the ornate mirror across the room caught my attention, and I almost didn’t recognize myself.

My hair was a tangled mess, my cheeks flushed, my eyes…

my eyes were wide and raw, like I’d been cracked open and all my secrets had spilled out.

I clutched the sheets tighter around me, a feeble attempt to hold onto some semblance of control.

The memories of last night played on a loop in my mind.

The intensity in Samuel’s eyes, the way his touch made my body betray my mind, the way I had surrendered despite everything I knew about him.

Despite everything I hated about him. I had crossed a line I could never uncross, and now I was trapped on the other side, tangled in his web.

A sharp knock at the door jolted me, and I yanked the sheets back around my body. “What?” I snapped, my voice harsher than intended.

The door cracked, and one of the soldiers peeked in, his gaze careful and neutral. “Mrs. Caputo, breakfast is ready downstairs.”

Mrs. Caputo. The title hit me like a punch to the stomach. I wasn’t just Nina anymore. I was his wife. And after last night, there would be no annulment, no way to undo the vows that now felt like a noose around my neck.

“I’ll come in a minute,” I said tightly, and the woman nodded before retreating. I exhaled shakily, letting my head fall into my hands. “What have I done?” I whispered to no one.

I had let my guard down. I had let Samuel get too close, and in doing so, I had chained myself to a man I could never escape.

The way he touched me, the way he looked at me like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.

For a moment, I had believed it. I had let myself believe the illusion that there was more to him than violence and control.

But it was just that—an illusion. Samuel Caputo wasn’t a man who loved.

He was a man who possessed, who took what he wanted and never let go.

And now, I was his possession, his trophy, his pawn.

The part of me that still wanted to believe in redemption felt crushed under the weight of his dominance.

I dragged myself out of bed, the sheets pooling at my feet as I stood.

The air was cool against my bare skin, a stark reminder of how vulnerable I had made myself.

My legs felt unsteady as I moved toward the chair, picking up my simple silk robe.

As I tied it around my waist, my reflection caught my eye again.

The marks he had left on my body—faint bruises, scratches—were like a roadmap of the night we had shared.

A night that had irrevocably changed everything.

I hated myself for the way my body reacted to the memories. The heat that flushed my cheeks, the way my pulse quickened at the thought of his hands on me. How could I feel this way about someone who had taken so much from me? Someone who had forced me into this life, into this marriage?

The knot in my stomach tightened as I turned away from the mirror. I couldn’t dwell on it. Not now. I needed to focus on what came next. On how I was going to survive this.

The small kitchen was opulent as if created for a King who needed room. Samuel sat at the head of a rounded table, dressed in a crisp black suit, every inch the mafia kingpin. His calm, predatory confidence only made me more self-conscious as I walked in, clad in the silk robe.

“Good morning,” he said, his voice smooth and low. His gaze swept over me, lingering just long enough to make my skin prickle. “Sleep well?”

I didn’t answer, instead sliding into a chair at the far end of the table. The food was already plated, but I barely glanced at it. My appetite had evaporated the moment I saw him .

“You’re quiet,” he remarked, sipping his coffee. “Not regretting anything, are you?”

His words made my stomach churn. I glanced up at him, forcing a neutral expression. “What would be the point? Regret won’t change anything.”

His lips curved into a smirk, but his eyes remained sharp, studying me like a puzzle he was determined to solve. “Wise answer.”

I looked away, focusing on the intricate pattern of the tablecloth.

I needed to get through this breakfast without snapping, without letting him see the turmoil raging inside me.

But as the silence stretched on, my thoughts spiraled.

Last night had been a mistake, a moment of weakness that I couldn’t afford.

And now, I was bound to him in every way that mattered.

I tried to eat, forcing a piece of toast past the lump in my throat.

Samuel’s gaze never wavered, his eyes following my every move.

It was suffocating, the weight of his attention pressing down on me like a physical force.

I wanted to scream at him, to demand why he had to ruin everything.

But I didn’t. Because deep down, I already knew the answer.

He didn’t ruin things. He just took what he wanted. And now, he had taken me.

The evening came faster than I expected, and with it, the mafia event Samuel had insisted I attend.

It was being held at one of the Caputo properties, an opulent mansion surrounded by manicured gardens and guarded by men in dark suits.

The place where power was flaunted and deals were made behind closed doors.

I felt like an imposter as I stepped out of the car, my heels clicking against the stone driveway.

The dress Samuel had chosen for me clung to my body like a second skin, the deep emerald green bringing out the golden undertones of my dark skin.

A necklace with a single diamond rested against my collarbone, a reminder of who owned me now.

Samuel’s hand settled on the small of my back as he guided me inside, his touch possessive but not harsh. “Smile,” he murmured near my ear. “You’re Mrs. Caputo now. Time to play the part.”

I forced a smile, though it felt like a lie. The room was filled with men and women who exuded wealth and danger, their conversations low and measured. The air was thick with unspoken alliances and simmering rivalries.

Samuel moved through the crowd with ease, shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries like he owned the place—which, technically, he did. I stayed close, my pulse quickening every time someone’s gaze lingered on me for too long. I hated how exposed I felt, how out of place.

“You’re doing well,” Samuel said quietly as we stopped near the bar. He handed me a glass of champagne, his fingers brushing against mine. “Almost like you belong here.”

I took a sip, letting the bubbles fizzle against my tongue. “I don’t belong here. And I never will.”

He leaned closer, his lips curving into that infuriating smirk. “Oh, but you do. You just don’t realize it yet.”

I didn’t respond, my gaze drifting over the room. If I was going to survive this, I needed to be smart. I needed to play my role while figuring out how to undermine him. And tonight, surrounded by his world, I saw an opportunity.

The evening wore on, the hum of conversation and clinking glasses filling the air.

I observed Samuel, noting the way he commanded attention, the way people deferred to him.

But I also noticed the cracks in his armor—the fleeting moments of tension in his jaw, the way his eyes darted toward the exits when he thought no one was looking.

When he excused himself to speak with one of his men, I dipped. I moved through the crowd, weaving between conversations until I reached the center of the room. People turned to look at me, their gazes curious, some amused. I ignored them, letting my presence speak for itself.

Samuel’s voice cut through the room as he returned, his tone sharp. “What are you doing, Nina?”

I turned to him, my smile sweet but my eyes challenging. “Playing my role, of course. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, I thought he might drag me out of the room. But he stepped closer, his hand wrapping around my arm in a grip that was firm but not painful.

“You’re testing me,” he said, his voice low enough that only I could hear.

I tilted my head, feigning innocence. “Am I?”

The tension between us crackled, electric and undeniable. I could feel the heat of his body, the barely restrained fury simmering beneath his calm exterior. But I didn’t back down. If he wanted a fight, I’d give him one.

“Careful, Nina,” he warned, his lips brushing against my ear. “You don’t want to see what happens when I’m pushed too far.”

I met his gaze, my pulse racing. “Maybe I do.”

His dark eyes narrowed, and a thrill went down my spine.

I spun on my heel and took off. My heart was racing as I ran through a door, it opened leading me straight into the bedroom I wanted to be in.

Clearly, I wanted to get caught. It was wrong and dirty, but I wanted him to push me to the ground and force me to take his cock.

Just like before.