Crowned In Blood

Chapter 18

18

Catalina

T he drive-by had been a wake-up call. Felipe's brazen attack meant I needed to take precautions with my familia.

I canceled any unnecessary events, worked from home, promoted Joseph as my right-hand man, and took my guards with me wherever I went.

It irritated the fuck out of me to play it safe, but I had to. I needed Felipe to believe I was scared, that he'd gotten to me. It was the only way he'd let his guard down while I put my plans in place—one of which was scheduled to come in any second now.

My email pinged just as my phone buzzed and I smirked. The group of hackers I'd hired off the dark web had finally come through with the data I needed.

Marco could find out a lot of information on his own, but this was something I needed to do. Felipe wasn't the only one I was hunting.

I'd left my father alone because of all the legalities that came with attacking him when he was a senator. I'd had bigger issues to resolve, and handling him needed tact. But now? He seemed to be at the center of everything, which meant he was involved in far more than I knew.

I was tired of operating blindly, and I knew Simon best. I knew his weaknesses, how and where he liked to hide, and if I could follow his money, I'd find all the answers I was looking for.

The encrypted file was a treasure trove. Everything from Simon and Felipe's schedules, travel plans, bank account information, the works.

I opened their banking information to see if there were any transactions between them. As far as I was aware, Felipe wasn't a known member of a mafia family outside of The Underground. He wasn't on any watchlists, so any transactions between the two wouldn't have been flagged.

My eyes widened, and I drew back into my chair. Simon had sent more than $200,000 to Felipe. Some was sent the day before Felipe had shown up at my office. But what was the rest for?

As I reviewed the information, several of the transactions began to look familiar. I'd seen similar, odd amounts withdrawn from Fernando's accounts.

I pulled up Fernando's accounts. The withdraws were for the same amounts, on the same days.

But I thought these were the transactions that coincided with human trafficking.

No.

Please no.

I opened the files I'd put together for my investigation into the trafficking and checked. Six of the transactions coincided with accounts of Fernando's kidnappings and were far too large to just be a shipping fee.

That was it.

That was the proof I needed.

My father, the man who had built his entire career off of protecting children and their families, had willingly taken part in human trafficking, and I held the evidence of his cut in my hands.

It hit me like a ton of bricks, and I collapsed into my chair. Beads of sweat covered my forehead, making my palms clammy, and I trembled.

This isn't enough.

Proof wouldn't do anything to my father. He could laugh it off, pay someone to doctor the transactions from his banking institutions. This wouldn't get him investigated by the FBI. And it wasn't even enough to blackmail him.

He could easily say he didn't know what or who was in the shipping containers, and I had nothing to prove the contrary.

While there were some checks deposited and large withdrawals, those were also around his campaign dates. Sorting through them would take forever.

Without evidence of a bribe, or some sort of inventory record, at most my father would lose the support of a couple of his followers and with a few months of apologetic behavior, it would all get swept under the rug. Like it always does.

I searched through the emails I'd gotten access to, his texts, everything, but there was nothing that jumped out at me. And even if I combed through each of them for days or weeks , I likely wouldn't find any damning evidence.

Simon Herrera had always been a monster, and a monster knew how to not get caught.

My head pounded. Spots danced behind my eyes, refusing to clear no matter how many times I blinked or shifted my gaze. But I couldn't stop. I needed more.

Maybe, just maybe, Felipe would have something I could use against my father.

I opened Felipe's text messages and my throat went dry.

The name was different, the number untraceable, but I knew from the text pattern it was my father. He had funded the drive-by.

Simon and Felipe planned to take my familia hostage at the event and force me to marry Felipe, giving him total control of my empire.

But when I read the rest of their messages, my body went cold. My bones froze and my blood turned to ice. Simon paid Felipe to kill Marco.

I began gasping for air. The shootout played through my mind, the man crawling toward the window.

I thought he'd simply been there to kill whoever he could. If he shot Marco, then me, it would cause complete pandemonium, giving Felipe's men the advantage.

But it never occurred to me his sole purpose was killing Marco.

If I hadn't seen him, if I'd missed, Marco would be dead right now. My Marco would be completely gone .

My heartbeat thundered in my ears as I stood slowly, my legs shaking. I didn't know where I was going, but I needed to leave. Needed to do something, get everything out, release it all. I needed to kill. I needed to kill Simon, Felipe, anyone. Everyone involved.

The doorbell rang, and I rushed toward it.

What if it was Marco?

I had to tell him. Had to warn him he had to go, run, hide , so he could live .

I pulled the door open to a courier.

"Catalina Salazar?"

I gripped the door frame, trying to stop the way my body trembled. "Y-yes?"

"This is for you. Sign here."

I squeezed the frame harder. "What is it?"

"We're not allowed to open packages, ma'am." He tried to hand it to me, but I backed away.

It could be anything. Hadn't I sent packages like this to bosses before with the leftover remains of their men?

It had been three hours since I'd heard from Marco. He was going into a meeting and promised to call me right after.

What if that's him? What if they've gotten to him already?

I locked my knees to keep from falling to the ground.

"Open it."

"I'm not allowed to do that, ma'am?—"

"Open it!"

He jumped at my shout, rolled his eyes, then sighed and opened the box.

In it were two red boxes, each wrapped with their own sparkling white bow.

"See—"

"Those too."

"Ma'am—"

"Those. Too," I bit out.

He sighed again and mumbled, "Crazy broad," under his breath. Then he opened the boxes.

In one was a long gown, while the other held a diamond necklace. They may have been beautiful, but that beauty was empty.

My father used to dress me, give me jewelry, just to parade me around. He enjoyed showing off his hold on me, allowing people a taste at what it would feel like to lead me around on a tight leash while they stomped the life out of me.

He made a mockery of me. He couldn't leave me alone, let me have a single piece of the freedom I craved, or let me live what was supposed to be my life.

No. He wanted control of every minute of every day, and the moment he found it slipping, he decided to take the one thing, the one person who mattered to me.

"I don't care what you do with the packages, but I'm not accepting them," I said in a low voice.

"But ma'am?—"

I slammed the door in his face and made it two steps before my legs gave out, then I slid down the nearest wall.

My heart pounded so hard my chest rattled with each beat. The world seemed both too close and too far, like a thousand eyes were staring at me, while I could do nothing but cower under their scrutiny.

Then my phone rang.

The sound seemed almost out of reach, but it kept ringing and ringing, until it finally pierced through the noise in my mind.

I accepted the call without looking at the ID.

"What's wrong, Lina? Did you really hate my gifts that much?"

Marco?

My heart skipped a beat. He was alive, safe, for now .

But then my panic came back in full force.

Every bit of fear I felt and care I had for him melded together. I choked in a breath, trying to keep quiet so he couldn't hear how afraid I was.

"Lina? What's wrong?"

"What's wrong? What's wrong?" I shouted. Words poured out of me, a mixture of fury and rage that wasn't even meant for him, but I gave it to him, regardless. "What's wrong is that you think I'm some sort of whore you can run around and dress up however you want."

Stop . Stop, it isn't his fault.

But another voice, something deeper, stronger, sharper, was louder. Push him away to keep him safe or else his death will be on your hands.

"Lina, I didn't mean?—"

I choked back a sob and forced myself to bite out. "No. Don't call me again. Don't come near me. I don't want to see you. I don't want to be with you."

Lies , all of it was lies .

Tears rolled down my face, and I covered my mouth, bit my tongue to stop myself from taking it all back. From apologizing, explaining, begging for his forgiveness.

It's better this way. It's better. He'll be okay.

But it hurts. It hurts so much to hurt him.

It hurts. It hurts. It hurts.

But I'm doing this for him.

I'm doing this for him!

"You know I'm not going to let that happen," Marco growled.

"If I find you on my doorstep, Marco Torrino, I'll shoot you myself."

I hung up and threw the phone away, and then I screamed. I screamed out my pain, my fury, my ache . I squeezed my ears and screamed over and over again.

My legs jerked from under me and I fell to the side, kicking at nothing, wishing I could hit someone, hurt them in the same way I'd just hurt him. And the same way I just destroyed myself.

But it was too much, and no matter what I did, I couldn't release it. Dots appeared in my vision again. Pain like I'd never experienced exploded in my skull, and the whole world went black.

When I opened my eyes again, it took me a second to remember where I was. This wasn't the first time I'd blacked out when the pressure got to be too much, but it was the first time I'd felt so numb, like the life had been sucked out of me.

I slowly stood, leaning on the wall to make it to my bathroom. Once I washed my face and felt more balanced, I set forth with making a plan.

I needed to pack a bag and leave because Marco would come after me.

The thought of him showing up at my door thrilled me, filled my heart with joy, but I shut the emotion down quickly.

That couldn't happen.

If he caught me, he wouldn't let me go, and he had to.

My phone kept ringing—it was Marco. I hovered over the accept button, just for a second, but then shook my head and put it on airplane mode.

I was only unconscious for ten minutes, and it would take Marco an hour to get here if he left his office immediately after our call. That meant I had fifty minutes, likely closer to thirty if he was speeding.

I dashed to my room, grabbed my go bag hidden in a secret compartment in the back of my closet, and checked the contents. Cash, two guns, knives, clothes, a toothbrush, an emergency medical kit, snack bars, some bottles of water, and a duplicate copy of all of my identification.

I changed my clothes, popped the trunk and tossed everything inside.

It was ironic to me I first ran from a mafia man to save my life, and now I was running from one to save Marco's.

Hopefully one day, I can stop.

I wiped the few tears that clouded my vision, then opened the garage door and backed out.

A black SUV pulled in behind me, blocking me, and the man that got out set my blood on fire and chills up my spine—Marco.

He shouldn't be here.

He couldn't be here.

But he was, and he was pissed .

Every cell in my body wanted to open the door and throw myself at him—but I fought against it.

My hands shook as I put the car in park and forced myself to pull my bag over my shoulder.

I couldn't face him, couldn't let him touch me. Because if I did, I'd crumble.

I got out of the car and ran to the garage door, but as I crossed in front of my car, he blocked my way.

His eyes were ablaze, the tendons in his neck so strained that with every beat of his heart, they pulsed.

I gulped.

He wouldn't listen to me now, wouldn't see reason, and I couldn't bear to fight him. So I did the only other thing I could do—run.

I dashed out of the garage. He almost caught me as I crossed the entrance, but I ducked out of his arms and took a hard right.

I was off, speeding through my side yard, into the back where the woods were. His steps were as thunderous as my heartbeat pounding in my ears, but I picked up the pace.

If I could just disappear into the woods, I'd get away. I had enough food to last me for a week and knew this area better than anyone.

The trees became denser a mile from my house, and from my estimate, I'd be there in five minutes. Marco was larger than I was, and as the trees and brush morphed together, he'd lose me.

But it was almost like he knew it too, and he ran faster .

Suddenly, I was in the air. He picked me up, grabbing me by my neck and waist.

I tried to pull myself back down, to flip him, but he didn't let me.

I tried to pry his arm from me, but he choked me, and even though it shouldn't have, it sent heat straight to my core.

My adrenaline quickly shifted, my body recognizing him instantly.

He ripped my go bag away from me, then tore my shirt in half.

I tried to knock his arm off of me, but he pulled me back hard against his body. His hand tightened around my neck, his other grabbing my breast, squeezing it hard. His aggression fed my pleasure, and I moaned.

"Interesting reaction for someone who told me not to come near her," he growled into my ear, his hand working on my breast, pulling my nipple.

I wiggled against him, his erection pressing between my ass cheeks.

"Marco—"

"I warned you what would happen if you tried to get away from me again," he hissed.

He unbuckled his belt and ripped it from the loops.

Is he going to fuck me here as punishment? Will he take me roughly to get back at me? Make it hurt, the same way I hurt him?

I'd let him. I wouldn't even try to fight him off.

With an odd array of skill, he looped his belt around one arm, spun me around to face him, then wrapped my other wrist in the belt, tying them together.

"What—"

The world turned upside down as he lifted me over his shoulder like a damn potato sack and carried me back to my house.

"Marco, put me down!"

He laughed, but it was dark, admonishing.

"Put me down!" I shouted again.

He spanked my ass. Hard.

I gasped. He'd smacked my ass before, but not like this. He didn't soothe me immediately, or check to see if it hurt, because he wanted it to. And it made me so fucking wet.

"Do you know how many of my calls you ignored?"

"I—"

His hand collided with my ass again. "Thirty. And I'm going to spank you for every single one of those missed calls. For every second you made me worry. For every second you actually thought you could get away from me."

"Marco—"

Spank. I clenched my thighs tight as another surge of heat went straight to my core.

"How many times do I need to tell you I would follow you to hell and back? How many times do I need to make you understand that you're not leaving me?"

"Marco, Felipe is trying to kill you!"

"And?"

My blood chilled. "What do you mean 'and?'"

"Do you think this is the first person who's tried to kill me, Catalina? There's been so many I've lost count!"

My eyes widened and my body grew slack. I never thought, never could have even imagined that was the life he'd lived.

I'd been so stupid.

My life had value because everyone thought I was weak. They thought they could easily take from me because I was a woman. They didn't view me as a threat. Believed they could simply force me to do whatever they wanted.

But Marco? He was respected. He was strong . No one could take anything from him, which meant his life had no value.

A beast that couldn't be controlled was put down. And that's how everyone saw Marco.

"But that doesn't mean you should continue to risk it. Marco, I don't want you hurt and if you stay with me?—"

"I'd rather die than live a second without you. If you run away from me, that's the life you're sentencing me to." His voice dipped, growing darker, more dangerous. "Is that it? Do you hate me so much that you want me to die? Because I'll do it. Say the word and I'll take myself out right now for you with a smile on my face."

"No!" I roared. "No. No. No. No!" I slammed my fists into his back. "How could you say that? How could you ever ask me that?"

"Because that's what you did, Catalina! When you told me to leave you alone, when you tried to run away from me, that's what you almost made me do. You constantly say that you have a duty to your familia, but you keep forgetting that you have one to me too!"

"I-I do?"

"Yes." He put me down, and the blood rushed back to my head, making me dizzy. He steadied me, and when the room stopped spinning, I realized we were in my house.

Gently, with so much tenderness that my breath stopped for a moment, he took my chin and whispered, "You own my heart, my soul. My life . My future is in your hands. I will have no one else. There will never be anyone else for me but you. So take care of me, as my teammate, my partner. As the woman I plan to share the rest of my life with."

His eyes searched mine as if begging, pleading for me to understand.

"I don't care if you agree with it. I don't care if you want me or not. You have me. So accept me."

I couldn't speak, couldn't move. His declaration was too much, his gaze too steady, too sure. He really would take his life if it pleased me. He'd kill for me, die for me, live for me. He'd given everything that he was to me .

His hand slid into my hair, pulling at my scalp, forcing my head back. "Accept me." His lips brushed over mine.

I wanted to. I already have.

I didn't know when it happened, but I knew that was the answer deep in my heart. It rose to the surface, but my fear shoved it down.

Did he truly understand what he was getting here, what awaited him if he shared his life with me? He wasn't the one who needed acceptance. He was perfect in every way. But, me? I'm no one, nothing. A flaw, a failure, entirely imperfect for him.

"I'm broken," I whispered.

"No, you're not." He cupped my face. "You have the strongest spirit I've ever seen someone possess. The things you've done, the obstacles you've conquered, would be impossible for anyone else to do. They would have given up by now, but not you."

He chuckled, and each soft puff of air against my lips felt like the only breath I needed. "You're not broken; you don't need to be fixed. But even if you were, a single shard of you is worth more than all the money in this world. You are like the sun, Catalina. Beautiful, blinding, the reason I wake up every day. You are priceless . I will always want you. Always choose you, my vicious little queen."

The monsters in me quieted, my every negative thought and fear crumbling away. I could no longer say no. I wanted him too much, even if it was wrong, even if I was selfish.

He told me once he was a greedy bastard when it came to me, and I supposed I was the same.

I wouldn't, couldn't risk him, and if the greatest danger to his life was me leaving him, then I would stay by his side for as long as he'd have me.

I was his, just as much as he was mine. And while I didn't know how many days we'd have together, I was too tired to keep running from him.

I wanted it all, every smile, every laugh, every fight. I wanted a life with him.

I balled my hands in his shirt and kissed him. And if I believed in heaven, this would be it. The taste of his lips on mine, the way his body pressed into me. He was my sanctuary, the one and only person I'd ever give everything I was to.

When he broke the kiss, he was smiling, but there was something devious in his eyes. A plan there I wouldn't be able to escape from.

He ran his thumb across my lips, and I parted them immediately.

His eyes darkened. "Get on your knees, Catalina."

Without a second thought, my knees buckled. I gazed up at him and basked in the joy my obedience gave him.

He took hold of my chin. "I'm still going to punish you for what you did, Catalina. You were a very bad girl."

"I'm sorry," I whispered, sincerity flowing through every fiber of my being.

"I know." He leaned down, towering over me. "While you receive your punishment, you will only answer to me with 'yes sir' or 'no sir.' Do you understand?"

His tone was firm, and a part of me wanted to rebel against it. I wanted to know what would happen if I broke his rule. But not this time. Today he deserved my compliance, and I'd give it to him willingly. I'd give him whatever he wanted, always.

"Yes… sir."

"Good girl, now wait here."

He left, leaving me kneeling on the floor, with my breasts exposed, my shirt in tatters, and my pussy sopping wet for him.

When he came back, he had a black duffle bag. Curiosity burned within me, but one look from him warned me that if I uttered a word, I'd be in more trouble than I already was.

I gulped, wetting my parched throat as anticipation built within me.

He pulled out a long black rope and I raised my eyebrows, but he revealed nothing.

Kneeling in front of me, he retrieved a knife from his back pocket.

I stayed completely still, barely breathing.

Then, he slashed away my pants and underwear until I was entirely naked.

Standing once more, his gaze swept over me like a physical caress.

He circled me, stopping behind me, and draped the rope over my skin.

Slowly, he looped it around my neck, my chest, replacing the belt around my wrists with the rope. He continued until he reached my ankles and removed my shoes and socks. The rope was soft and thick, and combined with his hot, rough hands, it sent shivers across my body.

The rope's patterns made no sense to me. They crisscrossed all over, yet were slack around my wrists and ankles.

Marco circled me once more, surveying his work. Somehow, I felt more exposed to him like this, as if he unlocked something in my soul I wasn't aware of.

The hunger in his eyes made me feel like his prey, and I welcomed it. I was desperate for him.

He could do whatever he wished, take me however he wanted.

He unbuttoned his shirt slowly, as though we had all the time in the world.

I watched him, taking him in. With each button he released, he revealed more of his beautiful golden skin.

His tattoos swirled over his chest, circling each nipple, extending down his abs past his waist, stopping low at his hips. The full sleeves of tattoos he had ending at his wrists turned his glorious body into a full work of art.

Even though I'd seen them countless times, spent the past week with him breaking into my house, sleeping in my bed, fucking me in the morning, preparing and eating breakfast with me before he went off to whatever meeting he had for the day, I couldn't stop staring. I'd never grow tired of seeing him this way.

"Catalina," he called, and my eyes snapped to his. "I will take your anger, your sadness, every emotion you have. They're a part of you, and I want them all. However," his voice hardened, "the fact that you ever questioned what I think about you, that you said I'm treating you like a whore is not something I can accept."

"I—"

His eyes narrowed. "Thirty-one."

I bit my lip to keep from speaking.

"Since you clearly don't know the difference between me treating you like a whore or a queen, I'll show you." He sank to his knees and claimed my mouth forcefully.

His kiss was demanding, like a brand on my lips, and I craved it. I loved the harshness, his anger, his possessiveness. Loved how he bit my lip, invaded my mouth, took control of me.

When he pulled back, I was panting and ready for him.

He ran his thumb over my lip. "I wouldn't kiss a whore." He moved behind me. "Spread your legs."

I obeyed him immediately, finally understanding why he used the rope. The slack at my wrists and ankles allowed me to balance on all fours, but that was it. I couldn't crawl, stand, or move away from him.

He made a noise, an appreciative hum. "You look so beautiful like this. Tied up, naked, and dripping for me," he murmured. "I definitely wouldn't do this for a whore."

Pleasure fluttered through my body.

In a way, I didn't know the difference. I knew he wanted me, and I believed in his words, yet I also thought I was worthless.

At least a whore sold her body for a reason: to survive. There was honor in that. But me? My worth had always been determined by someone else and what they could gain.

I'd survived out of spite, but in the end, I believed I was insignificant, just like everyone else did—except Marco.

Suddenly, he spanked me.

I gasped, and he spanked me again.

"I will not let you escape your punishment physically or mentally, Catalina. Your every thought belongs to me, and I'm going to ensure you stay right here, focused." Spank. "Present." Spank. "Do you understand?"

He smacked my ass once more, and my body responded. "Y-yes, sir."

"Good. Now count them."

"Wha—"

Smack.

"O-one!"

Smack.

"T-two!"

Smack.

"Three."

"You're soaking wet, Catalina. Maybe I need to be rougher with you since you're enjoying your punishment so much," he purred, then spanked me again, harder this time.

I gasped. "Four."

Smack.

"Five," I moaned.

He continued to spank me until I was delirious. He alternated between each cheek, squeezed my ass, caressed the stinging skin, and then spanked me again.

It was always different. Sometimes he caressed me longer, other times, he spanked me twice before soothing the pain away.

I was lost to the pain and pleasure, my mind a jumble of wants and needs. His touch set me on fire, and I was desperate for it, craving more.

He smacked my ass again.

"Fifteen," I moaned, panting, my body trembling.

"I wonder if you could come, just like this, with me barely touching you."

"Yes sir, please," I begged without a moment of hesitation.

He smacked my ass, one cheek after the other, then leaned over me. "Do you think I'd do this for a whore? Hmm?" he purred, slipping his hand to my clit, rubbing it in circles.

His touch was light, a tease, and I tried to move my hips, to grind against his hand, but he tightened the rope, and I whimpered.

"I asked you a question," he growled.

"N-no, sir." I tried again to push back, but couldn't. "Please," I begged again.

"You're so beautiful, especially when you beg." He rubbed my clit, applying the pressure I needed, and my eyes drifted closed.

I was so close, almost there. He pulled my hair, forcing me to arch my back. The rope tightened, and I wanted more. I wanted the bite, the pain. I needed it.

"I wouldn't do this for a whore, Catalina. If I wasn't so addicted to the way you look when you come, I'd leave you like this." He circled my clit, and I whimpered. "Wet, aching, begging for my touch. But you know what? I think I've discovered something about you, something you don't want anyone to see."

He pinched my clit, grabbed my breast, squeezing it hard, then whispered in my ear, "You like being my bad girl, just as much as you like the praise. I think you want me to treat you like a whore. My whore."

I came immediately. I felt like I was floating above the clouds, detached from my mind and heart—a being existing solely in my skin and the sensations he created. My arms gave out, and I collapsed chest first onto the floor.

Marco rammed inside me, his cock stretching me, filling me completely. He was so deep, too deep, and I tried to move my hips away, but the rope tightened around my thighs and breasts.

He spanked my ass and fucked me hard. My knees and breasts rubbed against the carpet, the fibers teasing my nipples.

He thrust into me like a madman, and maybe he was. Maybe we both were insane, because I loved it. I gripped the rug, the only thing I could hang onto while he took me.

That's what this was. He took me, claimed me, controlled me, and it was pure perfection.

He fisted my long hair, yanking my head back. "You like this, don't you?"

"Y-yes! Yes, sir!"

His other hand reached around, grabbing my breast, pinching the nipple. The pain combined with his thrusts made me cry out, pleasure flooding every cell of my body.

"You love me using you, don't you, my little whore?"

"Yes! Yes, sir." He pushed down on my spine, forcing me to angle my hips, and when he thrust in again, I nearly lost my mind. "Fuck!"

"Say it. Say you're my whore, Catalina," he growled, spanking my ass once, twice.

"I'm your whore! Yours! Yours!" He fucked me harder after every word. Then he slipped his hand down to my pussy and pinched my clit. I bucked beneath him, and when he rubbed it again, I came, screaming.

But he didn't stop. He kept going, working through my orgasm, building me to another one so fast it felt like my heart was going to explode.

"You're such a good little whore for your king." He circled my clit, then bit my shoulder hard, marking me, branding me, and I relished in the thought.

I could do nothing else but groan, moving my hips back, crying out every time he entered me, touched me, the ropes binding and restricting me. The room filled with our moans, my cries, the sound of his hips slapping against mine as he fucked my dripping wet pussy.

He slid his hand up to my chest, and with his other hand on my hip, pulled me back until I was sitting on his lap, the position allowing him to ram harder into me.

My breasts bounced with each thrust, rubbing against the rope. I moved, ground, pushed my hips back against his, desperate for him.

I didn't want him to stop, couldn't bear the thought of it, and even when he made me see stars, I couldn't stop moving, and neither did he.

He fucked me harder, faster, rougher, and I wanted it all. I needed to touch him, feel him come inside me.

"Pl-Please, sir."

"Tell me what you want, my little whore."

"I want to touch you."

"I don't know. Do you think you've done enough to deserve that?"

"I'll do whatever you want. Just please, come inside me."

He stopped immediately.

The rope was suddenly gone, and I didn't even register it before I was on my back, Marco between my legs.

"You need it, my little cum slut? Need me to fill you up? Breed you?"

"Yes, sir," I hissed.

He thrust inside me, filling me to the brim. My body sang as I wrapped my arms and legs around him.

"You take me so perfectly, Catalina," he growled into my ear.

I clung to him as he pounded inside me, the scent of our sweat and sex fusing in the air.

He bit my nipples, sucked them, and I arched my back, giving him everything. I'd give him every piece of me, whatever he desired, anytime he asked.

The world faded away, leaving only us. He kissed me, and I gripped his hair as he fucked me harder and harder. His tongue twined around mine, and I moaned into his mouth.

Pulling back, his hand wrapped around my throat, and I cried out in pleasure.

"You're my whore, my slut, my vicious little queen. You're everything to me." He leaned down, biting my lip. "Understand?"

The warning in his tone nearly brought me to the edge. "Yes, sir."

"Good girl." He pulled my hips close, fucking me deeper.

Each stroke hit a spot near my cervix. I lost all track of time, crying out for him, moaning his name as I got closer and closer to another explosive orgasm.

I clawed his back, dragging my nails down to his ass, and it was like he loved the pain just as much as I did, because he thrust into me faster.

I couldn't take it. The ground fell away, and I came, screaming his name.

He jerked, then roared, his hot come shooting into my pussy. Each stream was like the greatest reward, and when he was finally done, I couldn't wipe the smile off my face.

We stayed like that, our arms wrapped around each other, his cock half-hard inside me, while I was so full of his come it leaked out of me.

He kissed my forehead, but there was a note in his breath, a type of hesitation that made me meet his eyes.

"We need to talk about what happened earlier." He brushed strands of hair away from my damp forehead. "Did me buying that dress and jewelry for you really make you feel like a whore?"

I gulped hard. He deserved the truth, no matter how hard it might be to say. I was wrong for what I did and how I treated him, but it was his tenderness that drove the final nail into the coffin that held the last of my ego.

I held him tighter, using his warmth as a reminder that I was safe here. He wouldn't judge me or let me go. He was asking because he cared, just as I was answering because he was everything to me.

"I'd just found out about my father calling a hit out on you, and it caused me to have one of my… attacks."

He squeezed me in his arms, but said nothing. I was grateful for his silence, his patience, his willingness to listen.

"I don't know what they are, but they always seem to happen when I get overwhelmed. They make me feel like I can't breathe." I shuddered. "The walls start to close in, and it feels like my heart is about to explode. I was trying to fight through one when the courier came."

He kissed my forehead. "I'm sorry, mi peque?a reina viciosa."

That he still saw me that way, that I was still vicious to him, someone with so much power that he thought I should be respected as a queen, allowed me to keep going.

"When I was younger, my father used to dress me up in whatever fancy clothes and expensive jewelry he wanted. He'd parade me around as entertainment for his benefactors.” I swallowed against the ball in my throat. “He used to tell me to make myself 'look pretty' because I had a job to do." I took a deep breath. "It always made me feel cheap. I knew I was worthless?—"

Marco snarled, and I quickly added, "To him. And it made me feel like a whore. So when I saw the items?—"

"It triggered you."

"Yes." I hugged him tighter. "I didn't know if he sent it or you did. I didn't really see the items themselves, but my mind was already stuck in the past and anticipating the worst."

"And then I called you."

I nodded. "I knew it was you, but it was like everything came together, and all I could think about was using my pain to push you away." I met his eyes, and his gaze was so tender it brought me to tears. "I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry, you didn't deserve that, and?—"

He shushed me, pulled me so close there wasn't a speck of air between us, and I cried into his chest. I didn't even understand why I was crying or where it was coming from. But I couldn't stop.

Marco didn't ask me to explain further. He didn't ask for more or beg me to give him answers. He just let me cry, and it was the greatest comfort anyone had ever given me.

When my tears finally slowed, he gently wiped my eyes. "I'm so sorry, Lina. I'm so sorry that you went through something like that and that I triggered you like this. But I'm worried about you, Lina. I don't like that you have these attacks, or that you had one while I wasn't here. That's dangerous."

"It is. I..." I paused, scared to tell him how bad this one was, but I needed him to know. "I didn't just ignore all of your calls. After I got off the phone with you, I blacked out."

"What?" he shouted.

"It's… it's okay. It doesn't happen often?—"

"That's not okay, Lina. What if that happens while you're driving or when something else is going on?"

I wanted to argue with him, to tell him I was in control. But I wasn't. In fact, the attacks seemed to happen most often when I felt like I wasn't in control, and it could very well hurt me or those around me one day.

"I want to ask you something." He tugged my chin, staring into my eyes. "But I need you to know I'm asking for you, not me. I want you just as you are. You're more than enough for me, okay?"

I nodded, realizing how much I trusted him in that moment, because the voice that normally told me I wasn't enough for anyone had never been so quiet.

"Have you ever thought about going to get therapy?"

"I… No. I've never thought about it. There's too much that's gone on in my life to share with someone like that. And it's not like I could explain to someone that part of my stress is because I'm a mafia boss."

He kissed my temple. "Maybe you could. Therapists have certain legal responsibilities, but I'm certain we could find someone for you if you wanted."

"I don't have the time." The words spilled out of my mouth before I could stop them.

"You do, Lina. We can't do anything to Felipe or Simon right now without bringing down half the police department and governmental agencies upon our heads. If we could have, then we would have already. Now is actually the perfect time."

He had a point, and I hated that he did. Opening up to him was hard enough, but to a complete stranger who I'd pay to tell me what was wrong with me? Someone who would judge me, take notes on my past? See me as weak and pitiful?

I didn't want that. I couldn't even stand the thought of it.

Marco rubbed my cheek, and I looked at him once more. That was what made my decision for me, what quieted the scared little girl inside of me—him.

I never wanted to use my past against him like I did today. If we were going to argue or fight, fine, but I wanted to keep him in my life, and that meant I needed to be fair to him.

"If we can find someone, I'll… I'll go."

He rained kisses over my head, then kissed me so sweetly I thought I was going to melt.

We held each other until my arms went numb, and even then, I didn't want to let him go.

He'd done so much for me, become so much to me. Marco was my entire world. Life had been dull, colorless without him, but with him, everything was shockingly vivid. There was joy, laughter, happiness. And a feeling that I didn't know—one that filled my heart so entirely it removed every doubt I had when he was in my arms.

I kissed him. It was all I could do because there was no other way for me to convey my emotions.

I couldn't fathom how someone so wonderful had become a part of my life. But the one thing I did know was Marco Torrino belonged to me. And I would not let him go.

Ever .