Chapter 14: Defiance arouses him

Lorenzo Calabria

She’s pushing my buttons. Why? Why would she do that? She talks back to me and then instantly, I see regret in her eyes. But where does she find the courage to do it in the first place?

It’s like she doesn’t even mean to do it.

I step into my bathroom as Belle showers. I listen to her humming a beautiful tune.

“~Gattina~,” I call out and she immediately stops, coughing a little. There’s only a shower curtain that hides her naked body from me.

“Sir?” I can’t help but smirk a little at the title she uses for me.

“I need you to come to a meeting with my father today,” I tell her. “Belle, come here.”

“I’m... not dressed,” she mumbles and I hold back my laughter.

“I know, ~piccola~. That’s the point,” I tease. But in a random act of mercy, I hold out a towel for her to take once she’s finished.

She looks so damn good, her chocolate hair soaked but flowing, her upper breasts spilling over the top of the purposefully small towel I gave her and her long legs as smooth as silk.

I can see my fingermarks imprinted on her neck, and although I love seeing my marks on her, it’s not those marks I want. I don’t want to hurt her, but I can’t control my anger sometimes.

No wonder she’s so reluctant to give in to me, she’s scared of the attraction she feels for me.

“You’ll wear the dress I laid out on the bed,” I tell her, admiring her body.

“I don’t want to go,” she mutters, lowering her eyes for some reason. I scoff at her defiance. There is no other explanation for this than her trying to provoke me. Why doesn’t she want to go?

“Why?” I question in a louder, more dominating tone.

“I-I... I’m scared,” she whispers, shivering. Maybe it’s because she’s cold as well, but she’s scared? She sounds convincing. Why would she be scared? Maybe she’s heard of my father, heard stories of the things he had done. I wouldn’t blame her for being scared. I lift her chin so her baby blue eyes meet mine. She’s not even afraid of me, not truly. Yet she’s telling me she’s scared of a man she’s never met.

“You’re coming,” I state firmly, taking the towel in my hand and looking at her daringly. “Or I drop the towel.”

She whimpers a little, hearing my threat and backs down.

I caress her cheek, stroking my finger down her soft cheek. I then grip the back of her neck, pulling her closer to me as I look down at her. I love that I’m so much taller than her, that I can dominate her just by height, that now I’m looking down, her in a towel, I can see more of those breasts I love so much. “Why are you scared, neonata?”

“I’m always scared,” she replies in a melancholy tone, pouting slightly in sadness. She’s not always scared. She can’t be. She doesn’t show it, not really. I see her anxiety, but not fear, never fear. Unless she’s hidden it so well, even I, the master of fear and intimidation, cannot see it, which I highly doubt.

“Don’t be scared,” I say but then I realize it sounds more like an order in the tone I use. I wanted it to be comforting, I don’t know why, but I couldn’t do comforting anyway. My list for her is the closest thing, acting like keeping her close is for her comfort when it’s to satisfy my hunger slightly.

“You can’t order people to feel or not feel emotions,” she mumbles, looking straight ahead, at my chest. She knows I can hear her. Yet she talks back to me anyway. Even though she claims to be scared. “I’m not your puppet,” she dares to state. I feel my rage rising at her statement, how she dares to challenge me. Perhaps I’ve been too kind to her.

“You’re not my puppet, no,” I hiss with danger in my voice. I grab her jaw as I do when I want to make a point and tug her closer to me so our bodies are touching. “But you are mine. You’ll do well to remember that before you talk to me in that tone.”

“Why are you so controlling?” she yells, slapping my chest lightly with her hand in frustration. I slam her body so hard up against the wall that it makes a thud as she hits it. My hand wraps around her neck and jaw, and I breathe onto her. I am beyond furious; she has pushed me beyond all bounds of composure.

“I'm controlling because you're mine to control. You're mine... to see.” I tug her towel and it drops from her gorgeous body, leaving me to stare at her with lust.

But I notice the faint scars covering her back and torso. Still, she is beautiful.

“You're mine to touch.”

My hands snake up and down her body, along the curves of her outline, and inwards to her inner thighs.

“You're mine to taste.” I smash my lips against hers, gripping onto her ass as her back arches from the wall. I shove my tongue in and down her throat, attacking her mouth with rage and passion.

I break away, her chest rising and falling heavily in front of me.

“You. Are. Mine,” I exclaim, pushing her back against the wall with my body and slamming my hands on either side of her, flat on the wall. “You're not going to that meeting. You've been a bad girl. When I get back, I'm going to fucking punish you. I've been too kind to you. But I'll do whatever I want with what's mine.”

I smirk smugly and viciously at her. She looks as if she's about to cry, but I notice a glimmer flash in her eyes, a different type of emotion across her face.

I step away from her, leaving her bare and exposed. The sight of her defiance stirs something in me, a mix of anger and desire. But I have a meeting with my father to attend, as much as I’d like to stay and teach her a lesson. It gives me time to think of all the ways I can make her regret her actions. She won’t dare to cross me again.

I leave the room and head downstairs, joining my brothers as we wait for our father.

“Where’s Belle?” Luca asks, an eyebrow raised in curiosity.

“She’s not coming,” I reply, my voice sharp. I try to keep my face neutral, but I can’t help the scowl that forms. She knew she was pushing me. She knew exactly what she was doing. She didn’t even flinch when I dropped the towel. Maybe she wanted to test me. Maybe she enjoys the punishment.

“Why?” Leo asks, a smirk playing on his lips.

“That’s none of your damn business,” I snap back.

“You didn’t kill her, did you? I don’t want a dead body in our house. I kind of like Belle,” Rafael jokes, but I can tell he’s half-serious.

He wouldn’t put it past me to kill her if she pushed me too far. And I can’t deny the thought crossed my mind. But there’s something about her that pulls me in, makes me want her, to possess her, to claim her, to dominate her.

She’s intelligent, which is something I find intriguing. I’ve never met anyone who thinks the way she does. But today, she’s acting out of character. She’s smarter than this. I know she is.

And she knew she was provoking me and she kept going. Why?

I just grunt in response and at that moment, my father, Antonio Calabria, strides in. My brothers rise to greet him, but I remain seated, giving him a nod of acknowledgment.

After all, I’m the one in charge now, ever since my father decided to retire a few years back.

In a short span of time, I’ve managed to establish my authority after he stepped down. It was a challenge, even though I was working under my father when he was the boss.

Everyone takes a seat and my father sighs, turning his gaze to me.

“Moretti is a problem,” he states, as if I wasn’t already aware of that. We have a traitor, Moretti is gaining power, and they already had a strong following with Christian at the helm. With Alfonso, he’s just as ruthless. I wouldn’t want to be tied to the devil’s offspring, Christian’s daughter. The children of the mafia, they’re either ruthless or entitled, as they’ve been handed everything on a silver platter. That’s just how it goes.

“I’m aware of that. We’re trying to find the traitor. It’s either Dante or Giovanni. We’re questioning them to find out. In the meantime, we’re playing his game. We have someone on the inside, feeding us information. We’ve raided two of their drops so far.”

“Good. Very good. It seems like you’re handling it. But you know I wanted you to marry that Moretti girl. She’s still missing.”

“She’s probably dead. And I wouldn’t marry the enemy. I never even met her.”

“But I did,” he says, a smirk on his face. But when he sees my scowl, he stops teasing me. I don’t need a queen by my side, some entitled woman thinking I won’t hurt her because of her father or uncle. She’s probably dead.

Once the meeting wraps up, I head back to my room, ready to give my ~gattina~ her punishment.