"And then." He picks up the riding crop, the leather making a softwhisperas he runs it through his fingers. "The only implement you chose that will deliver actual pain."
He taps it lightly against my collarbone.
"I'm going to mark you, little one. And in the morning, Jino will be pleased."
I'm ready for it.
God help me, I'm ready for all of it.
Giovanni's thumb traces the line of my jaw. "Stand up."
I push myself up on shaky legs, implements still clutched against my chest like I'm some kind of BDSM sommelier presenting tonight's selection.
"Drop them."
The toys clatter to the floor, scattering around my feet.
Giovanni's eyes track the movement, then return to my face with that unreadable intensity that makes me feel simultaneously invisible and hyper-visible.
"Straddle me."
My brain short-circuits.
I move forward, awkward and hyperaware of every inch of skin, every angle of approach. My knees hit the edge of the throne on either side of his thighs, and I have to brace my hands on his shoulders to keep from toppling sideways like some kind of drunk flamingo attempting yoga.
His hands come to my hips, steadying me.
Guiding me down.
And then I feel it.
Oh.
The hard length of him pressing against me through the thin fabric of his boxer briefs. Right there. Rightexactlythere, where my body is already responding like I've been conditioned to crave this particular brand of torment.
I'm trying very hard not to grind down against him like some kind of feral cat in heat.
Giovanni's breath ghosts across my collarbone as he leans in, his lips finding the shell of my ear. "There's something you need to understand about the new arrangement."
His voice is barely a whisper. Intimate. Almost gentle.
Which immediately sets off every alarm bell I have left.
"You will never leave this house again."
I go rigid in his lap, my fingers digging into his shoulders. "What?—"
"You are a witness." His hands tighten on my hips, holding me in place when I instinctively try to pull back. "I made a mistake. Letting Jino know the truth about Rico. About what you saw. What you represent."
My heart is hammering so hard I can feel it in my throat, my wrists, behind my eyes.
"I'm telling you this because it must be your choice," Giovanni continues, still in that maddeningly calm whisper. "I won't force you into a cage you don't understand."
There's somethingmorehere.
Something underneath the words, in the spaces between them. The way his breath catches slightly. The tension in his shoulders beneath my palms.
This isn't just about witness protection, or mob protocol, or whatever fucked-up family politics govern his world.