"I agree," Father says. "I didn't anticipate Gustavo sending his daughter here with us. We need a cover plan for Marzia's presence in your life."
"We need more than that," I hiss. "I don't want to marry Nicoletta. I don't want to risk my relationship with—"
"You've got to stop thinking about the Da Costa girl."
"I don't want to."
"She's not meant for you, Adrian. Nicoletta is."
"How are you going to explain all this to her, anyway?" I glare at him. "She's not going to buy some half-thought-out cover story about Marzia. And if he finds out, her father's going to fucking kill me."
"I'll introduce her as your ward," Father mutters. "We'll say she's sixteen, underage. Nicoletta won't know the difference. We'll tell her you're taking care of her as a favor to an old family friend."
"I don't want to do that," I say right away. "Father, you have the power to break off the engagement with Nicoletta. You know I don't want to marry her. Why are you forcing me to do this?"
"You'll learn soon enough," he mutters, sputtering as he coughs. "That's the story we're going with. It also gives you an excuse to have Marzia around, and Nicoletta won't suspect a thing."
"I don't agree with this." I cross my arms on the seat opposite of Father's. "We're just making a fucking mess I'll have to clean up later."
"The only mess in this case is Marzia," Father hisses. "Get rid of her and most of your problems will go away."
"It's not about killing people just because it's easier," I grind out. "It's about doing the right thing for the people you love. Your famiglia."
For a moment, Father's eyes shine with something I could almost describe as pride. "And is Marzia your family?"
"Not yet," I admit. "But I want her to be. You know I always believed we should be together. Don't take that away from me, not now."
He ponders my words for a moment before dismissing me.
My blood boils again, but I'm not looking to get into a fight with Father. Instead, I walk out of his office and down the hallway that has doors to two futures—one with the woman I want, the other with the one my father picked for me.
I pick one of the doors and unlock it. I turn the light on.
The control room is right between Nicoletta and Marzia's rooms. I check the screens and am horrified to find someone's put cameras in my fiancée's quarters, too. I wonder if she knows I'm watching her.
Like an innocent princess, Nicoletta kneels before her bed, hands clasped together in prayer. She's the epitome of a good girl. Her father would be proud.
The other screen is dark, so I adjust the brightness setting. A moment later, I make out the writhing shape on Marzia's bed as the prisoner herself, body twisting as pure pleasure takes over.
She's touching herself. She's stealing what's mine. Her body convulses with selfish pleasure and my hands tighten into fists. She's going to pay for this.
I rush to her room before my temper has gotten the chance to calm down. The key clatters from my hands to the floor and I don't want to wait anymore. I kick in the door. I ignore her panicked shriek and walk straight into the bedroom. I grab her by the throat and cage her body beneath mine on her bed.
"You think you can touch without my permission?" I hiss against the shell of her ear. "You think you deserve orgasms when I didn't say you could have them?"
"Adrian," she chokes out, "Stop it, you're acting crazy!"
"From now on," I go on calmly, gently squeezing her throat and making her gasp out loud. "You don't touch anywhere that makes you turned on. Not your sweet little tits. Not your tight little ass. And most certainly not my pussy."
"You're crazy, I—"
"Say it back to me." My fingers tighten even more and her eyes find mine. Her heart hammers between us, reminding me she's vulnerable, breakable. The thought only serves to excite me more. "Say it's my pussy. Say you won't touch yourself without my permission."
She swallows. My fingers ease up but her eyes darken the next second. "It's yours."
"And what else?"
"I won't touch it without permission."
"Tell me everything you won't touch," I growl.
Instead, she grabs my palm off her throat and guides it over her exposed breasts. "Here..." She pulls me lower, making me cup her hot mound. "And here, I won’t touch here..."
My fingers work against her lips and I've got her arching her back in moments. She mewls my name. I know how badly Marzia wants more—it's written all over her pretty little face. And I'm more than eager to let her have it. If only she hadn't pissed me off. Now, I'll have to make it hurt so she'll remember.