The Enslaved Duet by Giana Darling

Author:Giana Darling [Darling, Giana]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Entralled and Enamoured
Publisher: Giana Darling Publishing
Published: 2022-09-19T18:30:00+00:00

Cosima

Almost two hours later, I rushed out the door of Ashcroft’s house once again in my street clothes, his semen washed off my chest from where he’d jerked off on me after spanking me with a wicked metal ruler for being late and leaving early. My ass stung, my heart ached, and I’d never felt dirtier, not even after Ashcroft had raped my mouth at Pearl Hall when I’d thought he was Alexander. It wasn’t much, he’d really barely touched me, and I realized that I got away easy. A spanking, his cum on my skin, and an hour of acting the maid with a duster and broom was trivial compared to my previous trials, but it hurt so much more.

I knew why. I didn’t need my therapist to say words like Stockholm Syndrome and PTSD to know that it felt so wrong because it hadn’t been Alexander.

I felt weak and exhausted as I stood on the sidewalk, blinking owlishly as I tried to gather the tattered remains of my self-control around me. All I wanted to do was go home to the apartment I had painstakingly saved for and curated with beautiful things and snuggle my cat Hades from the warmth and comfort of my bed.

But it was Sunday, which meant family lunch at Mama’s restaurant in Soho. It was an unspoken rule that unless Sebastian or I were out of town working, we were all required to attend on pain of death by glare from our matriarch.

So, I stepped to the edge of the curb to hail a cab to Mama’s part of town.

“You look appalling,” a familiar European accent called out from behind me.

I sighed heavily before turning around, both relieved and anxious at seeing Dante again after a few weeks without contact. We were close but only so much as our jobs allowed.

There was hardly a month I didn’t have to travel for a shoot or walk, and even while I was home, I encouraged my agent to book as many go-sees and campaigns as possible. Idleness was not good for my mental state.

Dante was busy with the Family.

He’d been in New York City for nearly four years, and he’d already amassed considerable power. He tried to keep me out of the loop on the details, but I knew from Salvatore that he had usurped the old head of the Camorra to become capo just last year.

Things were different for the mafia in 2019. It wasn’t the eighties anymore, and the mafia was much quieter, less showy than their older counterparts. That didn’t mean they were any less powerful. Police and intelligence agencies had diverted resources once aimed at curtailing mafia activity toward the newer, greater threat of terrorism, and Dante operated happily from the vacuum created by that.

He was leaning against an iron lamppost the way he was known to do, his ankles crossed and massive arms folded over his even bigger chest. No matter how long I’d known him or how often I saw him, his sheer size and overwhelming beauty always took my breath away.

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