Bound by my blood

Chapter seventeen

This book is set to mature. Intimate scenes included.
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I blow a kiss to my parents and brother before reluctantly ending the video call. My fingers linger over the screen, unwilling to sever the connection just yet. An hour had passed, but it still didn't feel like enough.

There was always more to say. More to ask. More to hold onto.

If I had my way, I would have stayed on for another hour at least—maybe even two—despite knowing Nico probably had work to do, and my parents had long since settled into their nightly routine. But their voices, their smiles, were the closest thing to home I had left. And once the call ended, reality would crash down around me again.

Unfortunately, fate wasn't giving me a choice tonight.

Angelo stood near the doorway, watching me with an unreadable expression. His phone had buzzed a few minutes ago, and now he was here, waiting.

"Time's up," he said evenly, his deep voice devoid of emotion. "Vincenzo wants you upstairs."

The pit that had been forming in my stomach since I snuck out earlier today finally settled, heavy and foreboding.

Dinner. Just the two of us.

A rare occurrence—one that only ever happened when he wanted something from me or, more likely, when I was in trouble.

I sighed softly, smoothing my silk robe over my thighs before standing. Angelo's gaze softened for just a second—so brief I might have imagined it—before he stepped aside to let me pass.

He didn't speak again, but as I brushed past him, his large hand gave my shoulder a small squeeze.

Was it reassurance? Pity? A silent warning?

I didn't know.

The dining room was eerily quiet when I entered.

A long mahogany table stretched before me, set for two. The flickering candlelight from an ornate chandelier above bathed the room in a golden glow, casting soft shadows across the polished wood. The scent of freshly cooked food curled into the air—herbs, roasted meat, something rich and decadent.

But my appetite had long since disappeared.

Angelo pulled out my chair, silent as ever, and I hesitated before sitting. My hands curled around the hem of my robe as I stared at the single plate before me, untouched and steaming.

"He'll be down in a few minutes," Angelo murmured before turning on his heel and disappearing down the hallway. "Don't do anything stupid."

I huffed softly, tracing patterns on the tablecloth.

Maybe Vincenzo would forget about me. Maybe something would come up—some urgent business, some emergency—and he wouldn't show.

Maybe I'd get lucky.

But luck had never been on my side.

A few minutes later, heavy, deliberate footsteps echoed from the hallway.

The air in the room thickened, charged with something dark and dangerous.

And then he appeared.

Vincenzo strode into the room, his presence consuming every inch of space.

He was on the phone, voice sharp, furious.

"I don't care how you do it," he snapped, his Italian accent thicker when he was angry. "Find out who stole the guns by tomorrow. If I don't have an answer, I'll be decorating my house with your fucking limbs."

I swallowed, my pulse quickening.

Fantastic. Not only was he already angry with me for sneaking out, but now someone had stolen from him.

This was not going to end well.

His phone hit the table with a dull thud as he took the seat at the head of the table. He leaned back, legs spread wide, eyes locked onto me.

The room felt suddenly colder.

"Come here," he ordered, voice low, dangerous.

I hesitated, my hands tightening in my lap.

"Now, Alexandria."

Something about the way he said my name sent a shiver down my spine.

When I didn't move quickly enough, he reached forward, gripping my wrist and yanking me forward.

A startled gasp left my lips as I stumbled into his lap, my knees bracketing his thighs.

My robe loosened slightly, the soft fabric slipping against my skin. His scent—cologne and something distinctly masculine—wrapped around me.

His fingers curled around the back of my neck, holding me still as his lips ghosted over mine, teasing, taunting.

I held my breath, my entire body tense.

What was this? A punishment? A test?

"You've been a bad girl, Alexandria," he murmured, his voice smooth as silk. "I told you not to drink. I don't like being disobeyed. Not by you. Not by anyone."

A shiver ran through me.

"So what are you going to do about it?" I challenged, forcing my voice to stay steady.

His lips tilted into a smirk, slow and deliberate. "You'll see."

His fingers trailed down my spine, a slow, torturous path, setting fire to my skin with every inch he touched.

Then—

A sharp smack landed on my ass.

I gasped, body jolting from the unexpected sting.

His other hand remained loose around my throat, his thumb tracing lazy circles against my pulse point.

"Do you like that?" he asked, voice low, teasing.

I bit my lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of an answer.

His fingers drifted lower, pressing against the thin fabric of my panties. The friction sent a jolt of electricity through me, and despite myself, I arched into his touch.

Vincenzo chuckled darkly. "So wet for me," he murmured.

I clenched my fists against his chest, nails digging into the crisp fabric of his shirt. My breath came faster, my body betraying me.

And just as I teetered on the edge—

He pulled away.

A whimper slipped from my lips before I could stop it, and his smirk widened.

"When I ask a question, I expect an answer," he said, setting me back onto my chair.

I sat there, breathless, trembling, my ruined robe slipping further off my shoulders.

Anger bubbled up inside me, mixing with frustration and something dangerously close to desire.

I lifted my chin, forcing a glare onto my face. "No, I didn't. You're disgusting."

Vincenzo only laughed.

I pushed to my feet, clutching the remains of my robe to my chest. "I'm not hungry," I snapped. "Excuse me, I'm going to my room."

I turned on my heel, marching toward the door, my bare skin still tingling where he had touched me.

"Goodnight, liar," he called after me, amusement lacing his voice.

I yanked the door open and stalked out, my head held high, my heart racing.

His men watched as I stormed past them, their gazes lingering, heavy with something unspoken.

But I didn't care.

Let them look.

Let them talk.

Vincenzo thought he could control me. Thought he could break me.

But he was wrong.

So very wrong.