They Are The Monsters.
They Are The Princes.
. . .
Leyla Campbell, daughter of a corrupted politician, never expected her father to give her to them - two of the deadliest men in the world, for the sake of his reputation.
They don't seem safe.
T...
I'm thorns, my love. I haven't been the rose in quite a while.
- V
. . .
Leyla
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Giovanni came back first.
I was sitting in the cigar room, because it was pretty, with a book on my lap.
He marched inside the room, his eyes glazed over as if he wasn't there. He stared at me.
He snatched me up, letting the book tumble on the ground, and gathered me to his chest, making me encircle my legs around him. His muscular arms wrapped around me tightly, making my sore breasts flush against his hard chest. I wasn't wearing a bra under my sweatshirt. I could not.
He stepped out of the room. I stayed quiet - a little unsure and a lot nervous about what actually was happening. I had pulled back from then and they had allowed it.
But something was wrong with him. Something has happened. If I had figured out one thing about Giovanni till now, it was that he was emotional. He let his emotions influence his actions but not decide them.
He walked inside his room, shutting the door.
"Let's take a bath. You know your safe word." His voice was hollow.
He walked into his bathroom and sat me down on the counter. Looking me in the eye, he took his clothes off till he was down to his boxers.
"Will you freak out if I pull them down?" He asked. "I don't want you scared, Piccolina."
Well, that was a development.
I shook my head. "Will you...will you force me?"
"I gave you my word, little girl. No one is going to put their hands on you." Fire flared in his eyes. "No fucking one."
He took his boxers off and my eyes, as if having a mind of their own, flicked down to his cock.
I gulped, eyes darting away. Holy hell.
Giovanni strode towards me. There was not a smirk on his face like I had thought there would be. His expression was tense.
He took my sweatshirt off and then my shorts and panties. I stood naked and vulnerable in front of him. I pinched my eyes shut.
He touched my waist.
"Golden."
He stepped back instantly. "You ca-"
"I needed to see if you'd stop," I whispered.
"You didn't think I would." Was he hurt?
I looked up at him. "No," I admitted. "I didn't."
He eyed me quietly. "Now you know that I'll always step away when you need me to."
"Why?" I whispered. "H-How do I know you are not lying?" Men liked to play games. They'd stop when I wanted them to and then, they won't. It was a game. Meant to break me.
I had given in so easily.
"A blood vow," Giovanni said, walking to where his suit jacket was. He took his knife out of it. "-Is considered sacred in our mafia. A promise which cannot be broken." He walked closer to me. Looking me right in the eye, he ran the tip of the knife over his palm.
I gasped, eyes widening. He kept his eyes on me, not even flinching. He fisted his hand, letting the blood drop on the ground. "I vow that I'll stop everytime you want me to, Leyla Campbell," he vowed. "Fabiano will do the same." He threw the knife away.
I just looked at his hand. He had hurt himself for me. He had vowed to not touch me.
"Aren't both people supposed to bleed for this?" I asked, my voice shaky.
"You're not cutting your hand," he grumbled, taking my hand in his and kissing the palm. "You're too precious."
I looked up at him. "Fabiano will do the same?"
He nodded. "Yes."
I gulped, blinking away tears. "You won't hurt me."
He walked closer, running his knuckles over my jaw. "No, Piccolina. I won't hurt you. No one will."
I nodded jerkingly.
He hummed. "Can we get inside the bathtub now?"
I nodded. Within seconds the large tub filled up with water. It was embedded into the ground prettily, a white contrast to the black tiles.
Giovanni sat down inside and pulled me down between his legs. The water was a little warm. Just perfect. It felt nice on my bruised breasts.
He sighed, running his hand through my hair. "I've never used this tub before."
I looked up at him. "Not even with any woman?"
"I liked to keep sessions short and intense," he muttered. "Aftercare wasn't much before they were exhausted and fell asleep in half an hour."
"Aftercare?"
He hummed, twirling my hair around his finger. His eyes had cleared up now. "What we did after we punished you. That's aftercare, Amore."
They had held me close, wrapping me up in a blanket and applying something to my breasts which eased the burn. They had given me water and praised me. I had been in a haze back then. I didn't remember much...
Except feeling protected - that nothing could hurt me because they were there.
