Of volume lineage

When I returned to our bedroom, Giova

I copied his example, snuggling into the sheets. They were cold and uncomfortable, and I rubbed my feet together to summon some warmth.

“Turn off your lamp, Isabella.”

I paused. “Aren’t...aren’t we going to...”

Suddenly, I didn’t need to try and warm myself up anymore. Heat flushed over me from head to toe.

Giova

“I think they’ll be expecting me to not be a virgin in–”

He was on top of me so fast air left my lungs. His hands pi

Giova

He knew. He knew. He knew.

I swallowed loudly. I was not the first woman in the world to go to her marriage bed under the guise of a lie, I doubt I would be the last. “Yes.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

I wriggled beneath him. It was all too much. The feel of him, the pressure of his body, the electricity that was thundering through my veins. “Let me go.”

“No.”

“I’m serious, Giova

“You’ll what, Isabella? Scream for help? Run to your uncles?” he inquired. “For all the love Angelo has for you, he would deliver you right back to my doorstep. This alliance is too important to care about your feelings.”

He was right. Uncle Angelo loved me, but sacrifices had to be made for the good of the Famiglia. “Trust me, I know.”

Giova

His hand drew back, slowly dragging over my flesh. The fabric of my nightgown bunched up as he moved lower. There was nothing comforting or sexy about the touch, it was methodical and scientific. I, however, was breathing rapidly, shaking at my core.

How was he so cold? How was he so unaffected? I felt like I was splintering apart, only tied together by the hands and knees that pi

His fingers stopped on the inside of my thigh, dangerously high. I flinched as lust ricocheted through me.

Giova

“Was he soft with you?” he asked. “Was he gentle?”

Harry Gruenfield had actually cried afterwards but I suddenly felt very protective over him. Comparing the stature of a seventeen-year-old boy to the man before me now felt wrong. I remained quiet.

Giova

“What does it matter?” I gritted out.

I wished I had turned the lamp off. In the darkness, I wouldn’t be able to see his expression. I wouldn’t be able to see the cold anger that gripped his features like an invisible hand.

“It matters, Isabella,” he said, “because the things I would do to you would not be gentle or soft.”

Something inside me turned to fire. I didn’t know if it was out of fear or…or desire.

Giova

He rolled to his side of the bed before I could respond.

I laid in the dark, trying to regain control over my breathing. Every inch of my skin felt taught and loose. Once I had settled, Giova

…would not be gentle or soft…

…inexperienced twenty-three-year-old could never please me…

Did he think I was a child playing dress up? The thought sent arrows of rage down my spine. It was quickly followed by the feeling of rejection. Giova

I reached out in the dark, clasping the vase. Then with a light push, I tipped it over. The sound of glass shattering filled the room.

“Oopsie,” I said.

Giova