Katarina’s POV, Vittorio Mansion
His hands gripped my wrists, pinning them above my head.
Rope burned against my skin. My back arched off the leather seat, bare and slick with sweat. The car was dark. The windows fogged. My breath hitched as his voice rumbled against my throat.
“Be still, kitten.”
I was in the back of a black van again, but it wasn’t the same men. This time, it was him. Vittorio. The green-eyed devil from the club. Except he wasn’t shouting. He wasn’t furious.
Vittorio. His eyes were molten green, glowing in the low light. His fingers traced the welts on my thighs, red lines from the flogger he’d just used on me. My legs trembled.
His belt unbuckled with a click that sent shivers down my spine.
“You don’t get to run from me,” he whispered. “You belong to me.”
My mo
