Owned by the Enemy

Punishment and Pleasure

Chapter 4: Punishment and Pleasure

The air between them was suffocating.

Alessio’s eyes burned into hers, sharp and unrelenting. His arm still caged her against the wall, his other hand resting on the door beside her head. He was close enough that she could feel the heat of his body, the faint brush of his breath.

“What. Did. He. Say?”

Elisa’s chin lifted. “He told me the truth.”

Alessio’s jaw flexed. “Nico doesn’t know the meaning of the word.”

“Maybe he does,” she shot back. “He said you’ve been watching me for months. That this—” she gestured between them “—isn’t just about my father.”

Silence.

Alessio didn’t deny it.

That silence was louder than any confession.

Her stomach tightened. “You’re sick,” she whispered.

“Maybe,” he said, leaning in, his mouth dangerously close to her ear. “Or maybe I just know what I want… and I don’t care how I take it.”

Her pulse spiked. She hated the way his voice slid under her skin, hated that part of her leaned into it instead of pushing him away.

“This isn’t about wanting,” she said through clenched teeth. “This is about control.”

“Wanting is control,” Alessio murmured, his fingers brushing her jaw. “And you’ve been testing me since the moment you opened your mouth.”

She forced herself to meet his gaze. “Maybe I’m not afraid of you.”

He smirked, though there was no humor in it. “Then it’s time I change that.”

Before she could react, Alessio stepped back, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her toward the center of the room. His movements were smooth, but there was a simmering edge to them — jealousy, possessiveness, something darker.

“You want to walk the halls without my permission?” he said. “Fine. But in this house, actions have consequences.”

She jerked her arm free. “I’m not one of your men to punish.”

“No,” he said, his voice low, “you’re worse. You’re the only one who thinks she can defy me and get away with it.”

Her breathing quickened, though not entirely from fear.

Alessio took a slow step toward her. “I don’t care what Nico told you. You’re mine. And I don’t share.”

Alessio’s words lingered in the air like smoke, heavy and inescapable.

Elisa’s lips parted, but no sound came out. She wanted to tell him he was insane, that she didn’t belong to anyone — but the way he looked at her made the words dissolve before they reached her tongue.

He began circling her, slow, like a predator studying its prey. His eyes never left hers, but she could feel the weight of his presence, the danger in his every step.

“You think I didn’t see you smile at him?” Alessio’s voice was a low growl. “That little flicker in your eyes when he leaned closer? You think I didn’t notice?”

Her heart stuttered. “It was nothing—”

“It was everything,” he cut in sharply.

The anger in his tone made her flinch, but his gaze… his gaze burned with something deeper. It wasn’t just rage. It was possession.

“You belong here,” he said, tapping two fingers over her heart. “You belong to me. And you will not give what’s mine to another man — not even your eyes.”

“That’s not how people work,” she snapped, trying to hide the tremor in her voice.

“That’s exactly how you work now,” he countered.

Before she could back away, Alessio caught her chin between his fingers, tilting her head up until her eyes met his. The move was both gentle and unyielding, like he was daring her to break the connection.

“You hate me,” he murmured, “but you don’t stop me.”

Her breath caught. “You don’t give me a choice.”

He smirked faintly, though his eyes stayed dark. “Exactly.”

For a moment, the only sound in the room was their breathing — hers fast and shallow, his slow and deliberate. Then Alessio released her chin and stepped back, but only far enough to reach the chair against the wall. He sat down, elbows resting on his knees, watching her like she was some puzzle he intended to take apart piece by piece.

“Come here,” he said.

She hesitated. “No.”

His jaw ticked. “Elisa.”

“I said no.”

The silence that followed was more dangerous than his anger. He leaned back in the chair, stretching out like a man perfectly comfortable in his control. “You’re making this harder for yourself.”

“Good,” she shot back.

His lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Then I’ll enjoy breaking you even more.”

He stood again, moving toward her with a kind of slow inevitability that made her pulse race. When he reached her, his hand slid down her arm — not rough, but with a firmness that warned her resistance was pointless.

“You can fight me all you want,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “But in the end, you’ll still be here. You’ll still be mine.”

Alessio’s fingers trailed down her arm until they reached her wrist. He didn’t grab her roughly — that would have been easier for Elisa to hate — but instead wrapped his hand around her like a man claiming something already his.

She jerked her arm back. He didn’t let go.

“Stop playing games with me,” she said, her voice sharper than she intended.

“I’m not playing,” he replied smoothly. “I don’t play when it comes to you.”

Her breath caught for a moment, because his tone… it wasn’t loud, it wasn’t even angry now — it was dangerous in its quiet certainty.

“You can’t just—”

“I can,” he cut her off, “and I will.”

Before she could speak again, Alessio pulled her a step closer, erasing the space between them. She could feel the warmth of his breath against her cheek, the faint scent of his cologne — dark, expensive, intoxicating.

“You want to hate me,” he murmured, his lips barely brushing her ear, “but your body doesn’t agree with you.”

She tried to step back, but his grip tightened. “Let me go.”

“Say ‘please,’” he said, almost teasing, but his eyes told her this wasn’t a joke.

She clenched her jaw. “No.”

That smirk returned, slow and maddening. “Good. I like you stubborn. It makes the moment you finally give in… unforgettable.”

Her heart was pounding so loud she could hear it in her ears. She hated that he was right about one thing — she did feel something when he was this close, something she didn’t want to admit even to herself.

Alessio’s free hand slid to her waist, fingers curling against her hip. Not pulling, not forcing — just there, a reminder that he could close the gap between them any second.

“I saw the way you looked at him,” he said again, voice lower now. “That ends tonight.”

She swallowed hard. “You can’t control what I look at.”

He leaned in, his lips at her temple. “I can control what you think about when you close your eyes.”

For a second, she froze, caught in the pull of his words, the dangerous certainty in them.

Then she found her voice. “You’re insane.”

“Maybe,” he said with a shrug, “but you’ll still be mine when you wake up tomorrow