Debt Of Desire

Chapter5

Bella's pov

It was another day to try again. I promised myself and Enzo that I wouldn't stop trying until I make it and I intend to fulfill that promise.

I waited until the penthouse was quiet.

The clock on the nightstand read 10:17pm.

Luca had disappeared for his usual kitchen raid. The quiet one— still nameless– was on the lower floors tonight. I’d heard Enzo on the phone earlier, saying something about a meeting that would keep him out until dawn. This was the perfect opportunity to make my move.

I’d spent the last twenty-four hours replaying every detail of my sad attempts last night. The service elevator code hadn't changed. That was good. The alley door still clicked open without an alarm. This time I wouldn't sprint straight for a cab. I’d cut through the side street, lose any tail in the crowd near the subway entrance, then disappear into Brooklyn. I had a plan. I had to leave here.

The black hoodie was still in the closet, I pulled it on over the thin tank top and leggings I had worn during the day, I tucked my hair underneath the hood, and slipped the spare key card I had lifted off Luca yesterday from his jacket pocket into my sleeve. My heart was already racing but I forced my breathing to slow. I had to make it one step at a time.

The hallway was empty, that's good.

I moved like a ghost— quiet on the marble, then carpet, then the cold tile of the laundry room. The service elevator waited. 7-4-1-9. Green light. Doors slid open. I stepped inside and jabbed the lobby button.

The descent felt longer this time, I kept pacing the elevator. Every ding of the passing floor made my stomach flip. When the doors finally parted, I hurriedly stepped out, the service corridor was dark and silent. I pushed through the alley exit.

Cold night air hit my face. No rain, no wind, just the low hum of the city and the distant wail of the siren. I ran.

I made it in three blocks.

I turned a corner near a twenty-four-hour bodega, thinking I was clear, when headlights flared behind me. A black SUV rolled to a smooth stop, blocking the sidewalk. Doors opened before I could pivot.

Marco. The quiet one. And Enzo.

He stepped out last, coat open, shirt collar undone, scar catching the street lamp glow. His face was calm. Too calm. s**t.

I backed up until my shoulders hit brick.

“Stay away from me.” I said the fear evident in my voice.

He didn't answer, just walked forward slowly and deliberately, like he had all night. He was supposed to be out for a meeting. What was he doing here? Marco and the quiet one flanked me without touching. They didn't need to. The message was clear, I couldn't escape even if I tried to.

Enzo stopped inches away. “You're so predictable, cara.” he said

“I told you that I will keep trying.” I said trying to hide the fear from my voice.

“And I told you that there will only be punishment for each time you try to run.” he said, his voice low, almost gentle. It made the hair on my arm stand up. “ You chose.”

He nodded at the guards once. Marco's hand closed around my upper arm— not rough, just final. They marched me back to the SUV, I didn't scream. Screaming will only waste air.

The ride up the private elevator was silent except for my breathing. Enzo stood beside me, hands in his pockets, watching the floor numbers climb. He looked at me occasionally, I could feel his eyes on the side of my face, but I refused to look at him. His calmness made me more scared of him. I was silently fidgeting where I stood.

The doors opened into the penthouse foyer. He gestured towards the hallway that led to his private wing— the part of the penthouse I have never been allowed to access.

I dug my heels in. “No.” I said.

I didn't know what kind of punishment he had in store for me and I didn't want to find out.

His hand wrapped around my wrist— not hard but immovable.

“You don't get to say no tonight Cara.” He said.”

He pulled me forward. I stumbled once, caught myself from falling. I kept walking because the alternative was being carried. The hallway ended at a heavy black door. I wondered what was behind the door. He opened it with a key card.

The room beyond was dimly lit– dark wood, leather, a padded bench at the center, cuffs hanging from the bean overhead. Was this where he brought his prisoners to, I wondered. Is he going to cuff me up and leave me to starve. Was that he's punishment for me.

I stood there staring at the room while he closed the door and locked it.

“I told you that I was going to punish you, now be a good girl and obey every of my instructions.” He said in a low voice. “Strip.”

“Am not your dog.” I said refusing to obey him. I won't strip in front of him but something in me wanted to obey.

“ I won't repeat myself, Cara, it's either you strip or I do it myself.” He said coming dangerously close to me.

What was he going to do to me if I stripped, I didn't know but I don't want to add to whatever punishment he was planning on dishing out to me and I couldn't also strip in front of him.

I looked up at me pleading with my eyes, he could give me any punishment he wants but not stripping.

He ignored the look of please in my eyes and went to sit down on the edge of the bed looking at me, waiting patiently.

After a while of standing there I knew that he wasn't going to listen to my plea, I inhaled— sharply, before closing my eyes and stripping myself of my leggings.

I opened my eyes when I heard him stand up from the bed, I watched his face closely for any signs of reaction. He wouldn't ask me to strip unless he wanted to examine me. Maybe he was into the sales of women. I didn't find any reaction on him except for the ticking of his jaw.

He held my hand and led me to the bed, he resumed sitting on it while I stood before him naked with only my underwear covering me up.

“Hands up.” He said. Even he's voice was controlled.

My pulse roared in my ears. “ You're not touching me.”

“I already am, Cara.” He stepped behind me, took both my wrists, and lifted them above my head, cool leather cuffs closed around each one, clicking shut. A chain tightened, pulling my arms taut until I was stretched on my toes.

He circled back in front of me. He's eyes were darker than I had ever seen them— storm- gray turned almost black.

“Ten,” he said. “ You'll count each one out loud, if you miss one, we start over.”

I glared at him. “ Go to hell.”

He didn't answer just stepped behind me again.

The first strike landed sharp across my ass— he's palm, open, deliberate. Heat exploded across my skin.

I sucked in a breath.

“Count.” He said quietly.

I clenched my jaw, refusing.

His hands came down again– harder. Fire bloomed across my ass.

“One.” I spat.

“Good girl.” He replied me.

I hated how the words made my stomach flip.

By five my thighs were trembling, I could no longer stand straight. By seven I was biting my lips so hard I tasted blood. The pain was sharp, clean, but underneath it— God help me— something else was building. Heat pooled low in my belly. My core clenched every time his hand connected. I hated it. I hated him. I hated myself more.

“Eight.” I gasped.

“Nine.”

The tenth strike was the hardest. I cried out— half pain, half something I refused to name.

He stepped close behind me, chest brushing my back. His hands slid between my legs without warning, I jerked. His fingers glided through the slickness I couldn't hide.

He brought them up, glistening, and held them in front of my face.

“Your so wet for me cara.” He murmured in a low voice against my ear. “Did you run away so I could punish you.”

I shook my head violently. “No.”

He smiled— slow, satisfied. His fingers returned to my wetness, rubbing slow circles over my c**t. I moaned. He dipped two fingers inside, curling, stroking exactly where I ached. My back burked towards him. My hips jerked despite myself.

My toe curled inwards. I was close— dangerously close— then he pulled away.

I whimpered. Actually whimpered from the lack of his fingers inside me.

He reached up and unclipped my cuffs. My arms dropped, numb. He caught me before my knees buckled, then set me on my feet.

“Go back to your room,” he said. “ We are done for tonight.”

I stared at him, chest heaving, my body screaming in frustration.

“You bastard.” I cursed.

He didn't flinch. “Goodnight Isabella.” He said.

I picked up my leggings and stumbled out, the door closing behind me.

I made it to my room, slammed the door and locked it. I slid down the wall, my knees to my chest and pressed my forehead hard against them.

I was shaking. Furious. Humiliated.

I’d run to escape him.

And all I'd done was prove how badly I wanted him to catch me.