Chapter One

Giada

I always feel free when I’m bound by him.

It’s the only place I do not feel anger simmering within me.

When Romeo ties me up, the pain from the physical effort of being suspended crowds my mind, and I feel better, as if I can finally breathe. My arms tied tightly together, so I can’t move them an inch. My legs folded to his specifications, leaving me open and vulnerable to him, nothing between him and myself but my flimsy silk panties. My body, suspended like an offering, awaiting my master, to do with me whatever he would.

I twitch in my bindings and moan, “Oh God,” closing my eyes as I revel in the complete freedom from responsibility, even if just for a limited time.

The first clap of the paddle as it makes contact with my ass has me jerking in surprise.

“I said no talking, Juliet,” my dom growls and I incline my head in submission.

My frustrated moan is guttural, the bass and synths of the music playing in the distance drowning it out. Some of the scenes played out at the club can get a little… loud, even with the sound-proofed rooms. The music helps that, and it sets the mood.

My dark hair hangs like a curtain, just barely sweeping the carpeted floor as I lightly swing back and forth.

“Ten strokes for that digression, my sweet.”

I nod my consent.

“Tell me your safe word.”

“Montague.”

“Good girl. Remember to use it.”

I try to let myself relax as much as I can, ready for the sharp sting of the paddle on my flesh. It’s not the strength of the hit that makes me hiss through my teeth. The momentum of the stroke makes me swing and the rope bites mercilessly into my skin and already-strained muscles. The discomfort is so intense that my mind finally detaches itself from the physical stress of our scene, and allows me to unconsciously dive into subspace. Still, I am sentient enough to manage to count the paddle strokes. My dom punishes me slowly, every blow on a different spot of my ass, as I swing helplessly.

The rope presses against the flesh of my breasts, my hands securely tied in front of me. The continuous sting of the paddle on my back is just one more impression in a cacophony of sensation that assaults my senses.

“I’m gonna turn you around now,” he says.

The blindfold enhances my other senses, making me feel everything more intensely. Romeo’s scent envelops me – fresh sweat, leather, cinnamon, and sandalwood. The stress of the situation is something I have now gotten used to with my anonymous dom. I’ve never known his real name, and he’s never known mine.

It’s better this way. His knowing who I am would just complicate his life for no reason.

He is meticulous as always with the ropes around my thighs, making sure to press a knot against my spread legs so that every time I move, it presses on my clit. The anticipation of that alone has me whimpering. I know he likes that. My head brushes against his groin and I can feel the hardness.

The ropes are tied underneath my breasts, circling my arms and then finishing at my hands. I cannot move an inch, my body is completely at his mercy. He unties and ties on one end of the ropes so that my joined hands are now around my head. I can feel my boobs standing to extreme attention, the strain on my shoulders intense. I lean into it with a sigh. This is exactly what I need.

“Safe word?” Romeo asks again, he knows that if a scene gets too intense, a sub might need to be reminded that there is a way out.

“Montague,” I reassure him, repeating our safe word.

“Very well.”

I’m not ready to tap out, even as my body is stressed, my muscles stretched to breaking point, especially around my shoulders and neck. Because this is exactly what I need. His hand on me is soothing, reassuring, running with precision over my body as he makes sure of the ropes’ position. Romeo changes the length of one rope, which makes my body tilt forward, the knot forced against my clit, rubbing roughly, adding to the kaleidoscope of sensation that suffuses me. Every nerve in my body is on fire.

“Squeeze my hand.” He orders.

I reach out blindly, and find his finger, squeezing it for all I’m worth. He’s satisfied that I’m good to go, and the scene can continue.

The knots beneath my breasts press upwards, hurting me so good, but also not enough. My mouth is open in a long-drawn-out groan, drool dripping a little to the floor, my eyes leaking tears, wetting the blindfold.

That’s when I smell the burning wicker.

I hold my breath in anticipation, and I jerk only a little when the first drop of wax hits the skin of my inner thigh, tantalizingly close to my most vulnerable spot. I can’t keep the moan in, and I know Romeo is grinning smugly at my reaction to his ministrations.

I hold my breath as he drips more wax around my thighs. The heat on my burning muscles is transcendent.

My thoughts are running wild and I cannot help but ponder that this is definitely the best way to celebrate my birthday once midnight rolls around. But this is also my goodbye to Romeo. My heart is breaking at the thought of never seeing him again. He has been my scene partner for two years now… ever since I got engaged at twenty-three fucking years of age to fifty-year-old Patrizio Freccia. His family has been in business with Cosa Nostra for generations. It’s a business arrangement between our families. He has valuable connections and is useful to us.

Nobody ever asked me if I consented. I’m lucky I got a two-year reprieve before the wedding thanks to my madrina, my aunt Ludovica. My father told me I’m a very lucky girl because Patrizio is rich and wants me. I’m supposed to feel happy that some old guy is perving on me.

My parents really don’t know me at all.

Romeo spanks me between my open thighs, directly on my pussy. The lightning pain it sends through my nerves is like an electricity shock that brings me out of my musings and back to the present. My thighs are burning from the wax he’s poured on them, my ass is smarting from the spanking. My muscles are screaming from being so tightly bound. This should be helping, making me feel better but reality insists on intruding.

At midnight, I turn twenty-five, which means the wedding planning begins. It’ll get too dangerous to see Romeo; my aunt won’t be able to cover for me anymore.

I suddenly feel teeth on my nipples as Romeo bites down. I bite my lip to keep the moan in. He bites the right one first, then the left. I know there’ll be teeth marks there tomorrow.

Good. I’ll have something to remember him by.

A sob escapes me at the thought and Romeo is there right away, his hand running soothingly along my back. “Are you alright?” he asks.

I hesitate a moment, not wanting to vomit my bullshit all over him, but before I know it, I’m shaking my head.

I want to keep going, I do. But I’m not in the right head space. With a sigh I open my mouth. “Montague.”

Immediately Romeo begins to untie my knots. In less than two minutes he’s leading me to the soft velvet sofa and ringing for a bowl of water to wipe me down before massaging me with hot oil to soothe my aching muscles. He takes the blindfold off of me, but we keep our masks on, for anonymity’s sake, which is a relief to me because he can’t see the steady tears running down my cheeks.

He lays me down on the sofa and lies beside me, caressing me softly. I try to stop myself, but I’m crying in earnest now. I’m grateful for the private room provided by the club because at least the only witness to my tears is Romeo.

“What’s wrong?” he asks softly.

I draw in a shuddering breath. “Nothing. Just coming down from subspace. It was intense.”

“Tell me more. It wasn’t anything to do with the scene, was it?”

I shake my head sadly, “No. The scene was perfect but just… shit carried over from my life,” I laugh soundlessly, “don’t ask.” I put my head in my hands.

I can feel him wanting to ask for more details but we agreed when we started this game that we would not ask any personal questions.

“What’s the time?” I ask him after some time.

I hear him shuffle about, “It’s ten past midnight.”

“Oh. Happy birthday to me.”

“You’re kidding me.” He says with a snort.

I cock an eyebrow he can’t see. “Why?”

“Your birthday is August 1st? Same as Juliet’s?”

I can feel him move and then his warm lips are on my cheek. “Happy birthday, Juliet.”

Now I really want to break down. No time for that though. I have to go home and make myself pretty for the birthday party my parents are throwing me later today. I have to go get ready to be claimed by Patrizio. My birthday party doubles as our engagement party.

“Hold me please…” I am practically begging him, and I don’t even care. This will be all I have of him after tonight and I want to cherish it. Romeo puts his arms around me, squeezing me tight against his hard muscular body – a body my hands and my mouth know so well.

It’s a bit crazy, the life we live.

He makes me feel so safe and loved that I find myself surrendering to the need to sink into him. Throwing all caution to the winds, I close my eyes and fall asleep.

***

I startle awake when light starts peeking through the blackout curtains. I’m still curled up on the sofa, but I can’t sense the presence of any other humans close by. With a sigh, I sit up and take my mask off. I stand up, stretching luxuriantly.

I get dressed, ready to morph back into my every day persona – Giada Cardinali, mob boss’ daughter. I know Aunt Ludovica will find a way to cover for my absence but that doesn’t mean I need to make it harder for her.

I feel real sadness at not having been able to say goodbye to Romeo. Even if he doesn’t know that this was our last session, it would have been nice to kiss him, breathe him in one more time. I truly think that without him, I’d have lost my mind these past two years.

Dressed now in my midnight blue corduroys and a white satin shirt, I walk out the door and find Sergio waiting for me. He’s the only person at this club who’s seen my face uncovered. He holds out a note to me.

“Romeo asked me to give this to you.” He smiles as I take the note. It’s not unusual for Romeo to do that. All our communication is done through Sergio. Beautiful handwritten notes that I would cherish if I didn’t have to burn each one after reading it.

I open the note and read it, a frown on my face.

Dearest Juliet,

I hope this note finds you well (or feeling better at least). I had to leave but Sergio should have a coffee and a birthday cupcake for you, to jump start your day, beautiful. Until next time, tis I, your most devoted servant.

Romeo

I chortle at his words. Looking up, I see Sergio approach, a to-go cup in hand as well as a tissue wrapped confection. My face hurts from how much I’m smiling.

Maybe my birthday isn’t going to be all horrible.

Chapter Two

Romano

Once I step out of the BDSM club, Romeo is banished to the back of my mind and Romano Monti, heir of the Monti Cosa Nostra family is back. Juliet is tucked away into the corner of my heart where she resides when we’re not in the same room.

I walk quickly to my black Lexus SUV with the custom bullet-proof tinted windows and get in, just sitting for a minute to reorient myself. I need to check my messages since I’ve been on airplane mode for too long. I don’t carry any security with me to the club where Juliet and I meet.

I place my bag of toys in the back seat. As soon as I get home, I’ll soak them and clean them myself before placing them carefully back in the bag, ready for next time. Nobody touches them but me. Nobody even knows about my activities.

Essentially nobody knows where I am when I am with Juliet at the club.

It’s not an easy thing, this one thing that’s only mine. The only way to manage without being caught is to be unpredictable. Juliet and I don’t meet on a schedule, we never communicate directly with each other, and we certainly never, ever see each other outside of the club. The only thing that’s always the same is the place we meet.

Sergio has been running The Tease Room for almost ten years now. He and I met when I was in college, looking for something to take the edge off, some relief from the craziness that is my life. He has an idea who I am, but discretion is his signature and I have no reason to doubt that he keeps quiet about what he knows.

I begin to frown as I notice how many missed calls and messages I have. I begin to read, and my frown deepens even more.

DO NOT do anything crazy.

That’s from my cousin, Benedetto, who sounds worried.

I click on the second message, which is from Father Lorenzo. He and I are friends, and he is definitely someone I would count as an advisor, but his message still makes no sense to me.

Everything happens for a reason. Come and see me soon.

“Fuck. What is going on?” I murmur to myself.

I sit staring through the windscreen, providing a very stationary target for anyone who would care to take a shot at the Monti family’s one and only heir. Starting the car, I ease into New York traffic, before using the car’s display screen to call my best friend, my second in command. If anyone knows what’s happening, it’ll be Mark.

“Yo. Where you been? I’ve been trying to reach you.” He sounds uncharacteristically somber.

“What the fuck is going on, Mark?”

He huffs so loudly I can hear him clearly, even on speaker. “You’re not gonna like it.”

“Clearly.”

“Okay so it’s like this right–”

“Just spit it out, Mark.” I snarl.

Mark sighs, “Are you driving? Find somewhere to park and then go to TMZ. There’s an article there you might want to see.”

I snort. “Really? All this over some gossip in a tabloid?”

“Just do it.”

I expel a breath. “No, I already spent too much time away from the mansion. Someone’s gonna be asking questions. I’ll come on over there and we can talk about whatever this is.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea. Your father is in a bad mood because of all the press the Cardinalis are getting over this wedding.”

“Oh yeah?” I grinned. “What’s up? He jealous? Did he want to marry the girl himself instead of her getting hitched with that old guy?”

“That ‘old guy’ as you put it is richer than both your families combined. This could be bad for us.”

I roll my eyes, “Whatever man. Since when do you care about family politics?”

“I don’t. I’m just kinda… stressed about the other thing.”

“What other thing?”

“The one you’re not reading about.”

I huff, shaking my head. “Fine. I’ll see you in a few and then we’ll see how serious this other thing is.”

“Yeah okay. I’ll open some good whisky.”

“Any excuse…”

“You know it.”

I hang up, increasing my speed. As far as I’m concerned there’s nothing life threatening that the tabloids could be writing about me. I don’t see what they could possibly have that would elicit a reaction from both Benedetto and Father Lorenzo.

Probably lies, whatever they are, so why sweat it?

Chapter Three

Giada

My stylist and make-up artist were waiting to get me ready for the evening when I arrived. In other circumstances, I’d be super excited. Now, I can barely muster a smile.

My dark hair is piled high on my head, random curls falling over my face. It’s held together by a diamond brooch that shines brightly from within the inky tresses of my hair. Matching diamond studs sit pretty in my ears, and I am wearing a dark velvet choker with a diamond brooch in the middle.

I run my hand along the soft material. It’s such a perfect representation of how much my family owns me.

If I had my way, the only person I’d wear this collar for is Romeo.

I push that thought away as ruthlessly as I can. He’s in my past now. My present awaits.

My dress is made of midnight blue satin and velvet. It’s a gown really, strapless with a neckline that folds over like the turning of a page. At the fold and the slit on my right side, a lavender satin material is revealed. My shoulders are free of adornment, and I must admit the aesthetic is stunning.

My artist has kept the make-up minimal, just splattering my face, neck and shoulders with foundation before adding some luminizing body lava. A light blush on my cheeks and natural lips with a deep smoky eye in shades of purple to make my dark eyes even darker and deeper, complete the look.

The six-inch silver sandals on my feet are a little uncomfortable to stand in, but nothing I haven’t done before.

I can’t help but feel like a princess. I walk slowly out of my rented hotel room and take a lift down to the ballroom. This party is big enough that the tabloids have been writing about it all week as preparations were ongoing.

It’s more of an engagement party than a birthday party. It’s a display of wealth, power, and the privilege to do crimes without having to pay for them. It’s elicited lots of excitement in my crowd. The guests are an intersection of people from pop stars to actors, influencers to tech bros, and of course, allied Cosa Nostra families of New York.

I step into the room and immediately there’s a spotlight on me. My heart is thrumming way too hard, and I feel like bursting into tears. There are very few people in this room I even want to see.

A shadow pierces the bright spotlight and before I know it, my father is sweeping me into the room, making introductions left and right. I know most of these people already. My father is a huge believer in bringing up your child by nurturing and admonishing them of who you expect them to become.

For me, that was likely being a bride to the next head of the Cardinali family. Which means that, like my mother before me, I have to know every facet of the business, so that I might one day make a good advisor.

“Miss Giada, you look stunning,” Mrs. Santino says.

Her husband works in accounting, and she aspires to be a lady who lunches. I smile, nodding my head at her. “Thank you.”

“Happy birthday!” She continues with a small clap.

I nod, smiling some more, and move on to the next person and the next until they blur together in a long line of obligation, fear and pandering. None of these people care about me as a person. I’m merely an object to be admired that might help them get ahead in some way.

When the smile begins to feel a bit stiff on my face, I glide over to the bar and ask for a whisky on the rocks. The bartender gives me a sympathetic glance and proceeds to mix my drink.

“Only the best thousand-year-old Scotch whisky for the birthday girl,” he says.

I summon a smile from somewhere before grabbing my glass and downing it. “Another.” I say, slamming my glass back on the table.

His smile widens. “A girl after my own heart.”

I know he’s just doing what everyone else is, kissing my ass to impress my dad, but it’s particularly annoying coming from him. I want to lean in to whisper in his ear, ‘You know it won’t work, right?’ but he probably won’t even know what I’m talking about.

I retrieve my new drink and saunter away, keeping an eye on the crowds.

Suddenly there’s a hand on my body, where no hand should be. Someone behind me squeezes my ass hard enough that their finger is between my ass cheeks. I freeze, outraged, and turn, ready to give them a piece of my mind, maybe a face-full of whisky too. I come to a stop, blinking rapidly as I look up into the face of my fiancé-to-be. “Patrizio…” I say shakily, “W-what are you doing?”

He grins wolfishly, leaning in, a lock of his luxuriant salt and pepper hair falling across his forehead. “Just having a little taste of what’s mine.” He says sotto voce.

Not fucking yet.

I’m feeling a little defiant tonight, not very accommodating. When he circles my waist with his hand, and tries to pull me flush against him, I do not move an inch, planting in my heels to help me resist.

His brow furrows, and he looks annoyed. “What’s wrong with you?” he asks.

I toss my head, lifting my chin defiantly. “Nothing’s wrong. Why?”

His fingers dig painfully into my side. “Do not play with me, little girl, I’ve crushed women far more experienced than you.” He says coldly.

I quirk an eyebrow. “What a thing to say to your fiancée. Are you aware that you’re hurting me?”

He growls, actually growls, against my ear and pulls me closer by force. I stumble, almost falling, and am forced to put a hand on his chest to steady myself. He’s looking down my cleavage, which has almost been flattened against him.

I want to slap his face. “Let. Me. Go.” I bite out.

His wandering hands have reached my ass and he’s kneading and shaping it in his hands. “I don’t think so.”

I can feel his erection crushed between us as he grinds against me. Surely, he should be too old for random boners.

Did he take Viagra before coming to my party? I wouldn’t put it past him.

“There you are, Gigi. Been searching all over for you.” I look up, feeling both mortified and relieved to see my cousin Tiziano weaving drunkenly towards us. “Got a present for you.”

Patrizio lets me go and disappears into the crowd as Tiziano reaches me. He digs into his pocket and comes out with a small box. “It’s a charm, for good luck. I’m sure you can use it.” His eyes flick over to the right and I follow his gaze to see Patrizio in conversation with someone I haven’t met.

Maybe Tiziano isn’t as clueless as we all assume he is.

“Thank you.” I try to infuse the words with all the relief and gratitude I’m feeling for the reprieve he’s managed to give me.

“Aww, you’re welcome. Enjoy.” He pats me affectionately on the arm before staggering away.

I pick up my skirts before anyone else can accost me and hot foot out of the ballroom. Towards the front door is a whole gallery of paparazzi. If I go up to my room, someone’s just going to come looking.

“I have to get out of here.” I think as I make my way to the kitchens. There’s always a back way out. I run as fast as I can in my heels, digging out my phone to call my aunt as I do it.

If anyone can get me out of here, she can.

Chapter Four

Romano

Arriving home, a half hour later, I find several cars parked in the driveway. Mark’s Suzuki jeep is instantly recognizable, as is Benedetto’s Chevy Impala in addition to many others. “Hmm, are we having a party too?”

Alighting my vehicle, I walk slowly towards the front door. The Monti House, as we affectionately call it, is a 10-bedroom, 12-bathroom mansion in New Jersey. It sits on five acres of land and has two guest houses on the property. We also own the mansion next door, from where operations are handled.

The Monti House is located at the end of a cul-de-sac. The entire street is populated with members of the family. It’s the safest place in the world for a Monti to be, but I sometimes find it very suffocating.

I step in the door and pause, listening for any disturbance. My mother is a shouter. If there’s a problem, she’s likely shouting about it. Since the house is almost funereal in its silence, I have to conclude that whatever is in the TMZ article isn’t worth her energy.

How bad can it be then?

I make my way downstairs to the basement, where no doubt, Mark and Benedetto are waiting for me in the Man Cave. It runs through half the length of the house with a gym, a shooting range, a soundproof movie minitheater, a gaming room where we gamble on the roulette table or at cards, a lounge where we are wont to chill when we have downtime and of course a bathroom complete with shower, jacuzzi and Japanese toilet.

When we were younger, we could literally spend entire weekends in the Man Cave, not emerging until duty called.

Today I find Mark and Benedetto in the lounge, sitting quietly, scrolling through their phones. I pause at the door, looking from one to the other. “Okay then, where’s the fire?” I ask.

Benedetto is first to look up. He quickly gets to his feet and walks towards me, grabbing my arm to lead me gently to the couch. “Sit down.”

I do as he says though I’m frowning, beginning to get very tired of their stalling. Ben picks up the iPad and drops it in my lap. “See for yourself.”

I pick it up, swipe to open it, the site immediately visible. The page is filled with pictures of my girlfriend Rose, lip locking with some guy in 3D. I stare, and for a moment my mind refuses to compute what my eyes are seeing.

“What…?”

Then it hits me. My girlfriend of two months, Rose Antonelli, is cheating on me with some long-haired scumbag. I wait for the betrayal to hit me but all I feel is anger that she’s disrespected me in this manner. It is one thing for her to cheat – it is not like we are a love match. But to do it where someone could take pictures is just reckless and stupid, not to mention plain rude. I grind my teeth, my jaw clenching. “Where’s Rose now?” I ask.

Mark huffs with frustration. “I tried to find her but couldn’t. As for Tiziano, he should be at that party tonight.”

I looked sharply in his direction. “Tiziano?”

He points at the picture. “That’s Tiziano Cardinali.”

“Fuck, you say?” Now I am mad. It was one thing to carelessly kiss some guy. But to kiss a guy who is a member of a rival family, in public? No, that was deliberate, that was malice.

Both of them will pay.

“Find her. I don’t care what you have to do.”

“What about him?” Benedetto asked, pointing at the pic.

“Oh, don’t you worry. I’ll take care of his ass. I know where to find him tonight!”

“You can’t do anything to Rose, y’know? Not without your father’s permission. He sanctioned this marriage.” Mark reminds me, as if I need it.

I snort. “You think I don’t know that?”

“He might still want the union to go ahead.”

“I don’t think he’s big on disrespect either.”

Benedetto puts a quelling hand on my shoulder as I seek to stand up and get my guns. “Hey how about we think about this a bit longer? We can’t just barge into a Cardinali party guns blazing. That would be a declaration of war. Unsanctioned.”

I smirk at him. “You saying I can’t be subtle?”

He shrugs.

“Ouch. Et tu Benedetto?” I give him a look of betrayal.

He lifts his hands in surrender. “I am trying to protect you, doofus.”

I get to my feet. “Don’t worry. I don’t intend to hurt anyone at this party. We’ll just get Tiziano and go.”

“What are you gonna do with him, when you have him?” Mark asks cautiously.

“I’m going to teach him a lesson about messing with other people’s women.”

Benedetto stares at him, shaking his head. “I mean, I guess they started this, but you gotta be careful, man.”

I walk over to the gun case, unlock it with the key on a chain around my neck and start choosing weapons. “Y’all coming tonight or not?” I ask as I check the guns over.

“Of course, we’re coming.” Mark huffs irritably. “How else are we gonna stop you from fuckery?”

I laugh, shaking my head. “Stop me… that’s funny Mark.”

“Look just promise me you won’t shoot Giuseppe Cardinali by accident.” Mark says.

I shrug. “Who knows. It might mark the end of our feud if I did.” I chuckle evilly, just to rile Mark up. I don’t blame him for his fear. I have been known to take things a bit further than necessary in the past.

Rose is a sweetheart and I like her, but she doesn’t do anything for me sexually. Seeing her kiss another man though, that’s a breach of honor. Sure, I have my own thing going with Juliet, but you don’t see me flaunting that shit in public. They both need to be taught a lesson – and I am going to make sure they both never forget it.

How likely are you to recommend this preview to a friend?

0	1	2	3	4	5	6	7	8	9	10

Submit