Savanna

"Come home right now. That's an order, soldato!"

It was almost midnight, and my husband hadn't shown up. I'd sent message after message — all unanswered. Today was our wedding anniversary, and I'd hoped that just once, he'd remember on his own without me having to remind him.

But he didn't. And worse, when the clock struck twelve, I'd have spent our entire anniversary alone.

I'd cooked dinner myself, even though we had staff who could've done it for me. I genuinely thought he'd notice the effort. Clearly, I was fooling myself.

The food went cold. The clock hit midnight. There was no point waiting anymore.

I threw everything in the trash and called Ferdinando, my father's Consigliere.

"Ferdinando, where's Gio?"

He paused. I think he pitied me. Honestly, everyone in my father's organization pitied me. The princess — the Don's daughter — hopelessly in love, bending over backward for a soldato who couldn't care less.

Ferdinando said he'd check and called back shortly.

"Gio's at the hospital."

"The hospital! What happened?" I shot to my feet, heart already hammering.

"Mrs. De Luca, he's fine. The one who's hospitalized is Mia. He's with her."

My legs buckled and I dropped back onto the couch.

He was with Mia. The apple of his eye. The woman I'd ordered him never to see again. I thought he'd obey, that with time he'd forget her — but there he was, risking everything to be at her side.

I hung up without another word and grabbed the wine I'd set aside for our celebration dinner.

I didn't even like drinking. But I needed something to numb the ache in my chest.

The warm, harsh liquid burned down my throat, glass after glass. None of it touched the pain.

Betrayed. Jealous. Frustrated.

So goddamn frustrated.

I could've accepted a marriage of convenience — married some heir from another family. A loveless life, but a stable one. My husband could've loved someone else and I'd have accepted it, because I'd have loved someone else too.

That would've been better than this. You can tolerate your husband having another woman when you don't love him. But when the man who belongs to someone else is the one you're desperately in love with — that's a knife buried in your chest.

It was two in the morning when the door opened.

He walked in, and I stared at him through eyes swollen from crying and burning with rage.

"I'm here. What did you want."

Flat. Clipped. That habitual coldness I could never get used to.

I staggered to my feet and hurled the bottle at him. Glass shattered against the wall inches from his head, and he didn't flinch. With me, he was always like this — a soulless mannequin. But I'd seen him with Mia. With her, his eyes held tenderness.

"You want to know what I wanted? I wanted you to actually give a damn about me! I wanted that woman to not exist in this world. I told you — if I ever found out you were seeing your lover, I'd kill her!"

"You're overthinking this."

"Are you seriously going to deny you were with her?"

"She needed me. Take it out on me, not her."

I started laughing — a pathetic, tear-streaked, miserable laugh.

"You know what, Gio? I regret this. I regret this stupid decision to tie myself to you. Maybe I should just give up. No more orders."

I walked past him, feeling every last ounce of strength draining from my body.

He grabbed my arm and yanked me around to face him. For the first time, I caught something in his expression — his brows drawn tight, a fracture in the ice.

"What did you just say?"

"I said I'm done. I don't want this anymore. I'm tired. No more orders. Do whatever you want. If you want to go see your lover — go. I'm done begging, pleading, commanding. I'm a De Luca. I shouldn't have to humiliate myself like this."

He gave me a scornful smile.

"Humiliation? I humiliate you? All I do is follow your orders like a trained dog. And now you're the one who feels humiliated."

"Let go of me, Gio! It's over, do you hear me? My father would never allow a divorce, but that doesn't mean we have to keep up this charade."

I tried to pull free, but he wouldn't release my wrist. His grip tightened — crushing, bruising, holding on with everything he had.

"You know marriage is forever. What we have isn't a charade."

"It is a charade!" I screamed. "In a real marriage, a wife doesn't have to order her husband to stay away from his mistress!"

"She's not my mistress. Don't insult my honor."

"Not your mistress? Then why do you choose to be with her instead of your wife on our wedding anniversary? I spent the entire day cooking for you, Gio. I went to the market and handpicked the best ingredients. I stood in that kitchen for hours until everything was perfect."

"You don't have to do all that."

"I know! You think I don't know that? My father raised me with the best of everything — I never had to lift a finger for anything! But I do these things because I thought you'd see how hard I try just to make you look at me. So you'd realize that I love you, damn it! But now I see it's pointless. I'm done loving you."

I tried to wrench free again and we struggled — him refusing to release my wrist, me thrashing to break loose.

Then he yanked me forward and crushed me against his chest, pinning my arms to my sides, locking me completely in place.

"What did you say?" he shouted.

"Are you deaf?!" I shouted back.

We glared at each other through a haze of raw tension — and then he kissed me.

Rough. Fierce. He bit my lip hard enough to draw blood.

When he pulled back, I was dazed. This was the first time he'd ever kissed me without being ordered to.

He seemed stunned too. His expression flickered between disbelief and something unsteady, unsure.

A deep silence fell between us, broken only by our racing hearts pounding like muffled drums.

Then he kissed me again, and I grabbed onto his neck.

My body betrayed me. The alcohol only made it worse.

He shoved me backward until my spine hit the wall. His hands slid down to my thighs, gripping, forcing my legs apart.

In one motion he lifted me, settling my legs around his hips.

I couldn't breathe. His mouth consumed mine, his face pressed so hard against me it almost hurt, his arousal grinding against the most sensitive point between my legs.

Breathless. Defenseless. Wet and completely at his mercy.

Gio pushed my underwear aside and thrust in without warning. Each powerful stroke made my body writhe and beg for more.

He abandoned my mouth and moved to my neck — sucking, biting — with a savagery I'd never experienced from him. Something raw, desperate, and animal.

When I sensed we were both nearing the edge, he carried me to the bedroom and threw me onto the bed without an ounce of care.

His weight crushed me a second later. His hands stripped me with rough efficiency.

He pinned my wrists above my head and drove into me again, his thrusts growing more relentless.

I twisted beneath him, trapped under his body as he used me exactly the way he wanted.

Gripping. Sucking. Biting. Pulling my hair. Claiming my lips.

I woke the next morning with a splitting headache. My body ached everywhere, covered in marks.

He was beside me, sleeping peacefully on his stomach.

His defined back was covered in scratches, and his olive skin looked maddeningly attractive.

His thick black hair fell across his forehead in a mess that left me almost hypnotized.

When I first opened my eyes, I had no idea how we'd ended up here. But the memories surfaced piece by piece.

I didn't remember everything. I remembered he'd been with Mia at the hospital, disobeying my order.

I remembered drinking too much — or maybe just enough to lose control.

I remembered the fight. Or at least, I'd fought — he'd stayed cold right up until the moment I said I wanted to kill Mia.

I remembered him kissing me without being asked, and the two of us tearing into each other without restraint, driven by nothing but raw, uncontrolled instinct.

Something flickered deep in my chest — a hope that he was finally seeing me, that he finally recognized the woman who loved him.

But then reality hit.

"He only did that to protect Mia."

Savanna

I got up tasting the bitterness of betrayal and went to shower. I scrubbed my body until my skin was raw.

I didn't want to have given in so easily. Didn't want to love him so much that I'd forgotten my pride, my dignity.

I didn't want his marks all over my body, reminding me of the night he'd used me just to protect the woman he actually loved.

At twenty-seven, after nine years of loving Gio, I'd finally hit my breaking point.

Nine years of trying to make him love me. Nine years of pulling out every weapon in my arsenal just to get him to notice me.

I could've had any man I wanted. I was Savanna De Luca — daughter of the Don, the man who ruled this city.

Gio was nothing but a thief when I met him. He snatched my purse, but when he called out "Sorry, gorgeous!" — he stole my heart too.

Bold move, robbing the Don's beloved daughter. Everyone in this city knew how my father spoiled me.

Naturally, that stunt put a target on Gio's back. Within twenty-four hours, my father's soldati had him. My father's fury would've left him in pieces — if not dead, then at the very least missing both hands.

But I said:

"Dad, I like him. Recruit him into the organization. Just don't tell him I asked, okay?"

I wanted Gio to see the real me back then — not some savior he owed a debt to.

Everyone knew my father gave me whatever I wanted, so even reluctantly, he brought Gio in as a soldato.

I was eighteen then. He was twenty-three.

Training under my father's command transformed him from a scrawny kid into a man. When I first fell for him, he was thin, tall, and wore a haunted expression.

Over time, his body filled out with muscle. His cold features took on a dark sensuality. He began radiating a quiet, dangerous masculinity that drew me in like gravity.

Needless to say, I only fell harder.

I practically lived at the training facility just to catch a glimpse of him, but he never spared me a glance.

I'd bring meals for all the recruits — a flimsy excuse to mask my obvious fixation — but I always tucked something special into Gio's container, hoping he'd notice.

He always traded his meal with someone else.

When he finished training and became a full soldato, I had my father assign him to my personal security detail. Just so we'd spend more time together.

Before Gio, I'd been a simple girl despite my status — all I cared about was finishing my fine arts degree. I had no interest in the games of seduction girls my age were playing.

But for Gio, I changed. Bolder clothes. Heavier makeup. Each day I grew more desperate for his attention.

I asked him to help me clasp my bra. To help me try on new outfits. To help me pin up my hair. I ordered him into every situation I could think of that might bring us closer, spark some desire.

He was always there — cold, eyes elsewhere.

I started to think that was simply who he was. That his personality made him incapable of showing emotion.

Then I saw him with Mia.

With her, he smiled. With her, his eyes were warm. With her, he could talk for hours.

I didn't understand. I was beautiful, the Don's daughter, smart, willing to do anything for him — but he only had eyes for that girl with the sad face.

What had started as a thrilling chase turned agonizing.

By twenty-four, after six years of trying, I'd gotten nowhere.

I had no idea what else to do. I was obsessed.

That's when my father called me in.

"Sweetheart, you've graduated and you're twenty-four now. It's time to find you a suitable match."

He showed me photos of the most eligible bachelors in high society — sons of powerful Dons from other families, sons of senators and billionaires.

Men he'd handpicked. Men who had power, money, and looks to spare.

My father always demanded the best of everything for me.

I rejected every single one.

"Dad, I want to marry Gio."

He refused outright.

"Gio isn't in your league."

"But Dad, I love him."

"He'll make you suffer."

"You're wrong! One day he'll love me back."

"I'm not wrong, sweetheart. My past has a lot in common with Gio's. I was a miserable pickpocket once too. Raised by the streets — a very different education from yours. I know that boy like the back of my hand. You and Gio have been incompatible since birth."

"If it's not him, then I don't want anyone. I'll die single."

I was proud and spoiled. I wasn't used to hearing no from my father.

I went on a hunger strike — wouldn't eat, wouldn't speak — until he caved.

My first order to Gio:

"Sign these documents. We're getting married. That's an order from your superior."

In the family's hierarchy, as the Don's daughter, he was expected to obey me without question.

But he hesitated. He could've refused — I never would've let anyone hurt him, even if he broke my heart.

Seeing him waver, I played my final card.

"If you sign, I'll get your mother the best treatment in the world. I promise — she'll never be in pain again."

He stared at me, visibly torn, the conflict written across his face.

Of course I knew everything about him. About his mother's failing kidneys. About Mia — the girl he called his sister but who wasn't related to him at all.

So he signed.

I was overcome in that moment. A happiness I'd never felt before.

But now, at twenty-seven, after three years of marriage, that happiness had curdled into frustration and heartbreak.

I'd never won his heart.

Gio

Savanna had always been a problem in my life. Her meddling had backed me into a corner I couldn't escape.

If I'd known that mugging some girl walking alone on a deserted street would bring this much trouble, I'd have walked right past her.

How was I supposed to know she was Don De Luca's daughter?

I'll admit — it was a desperate move. I needed money for my mother's medication and to cover her hospital bills.

I was ready to rob whoever crossed my path, and fate threw the daughter of the most powerful man in the city right into my hands.

Cruel luck, maybe. But at least it brought me to Don De Luca. He wasn't the man I'd expected. I thought he'd kill me, but instead he was reasonable — gave me an opportunity.

In the organization, I didn't have to risk my neck snatching purses anymore. I got training, stability, protection, comrades, and a decent salary to pay for my mother's treatment and look after Mia.

It was a good gig, even if I knew I was at the bottom of the hierarchy — a tool for the dirty work. First in line when war broke out.

But Don De Luca cared about the little guys too. Like my brothers-in-arms, I swore my absolute loyalty to him.

The problem was his daughter. Savanna didn't know the meaning of boundaries. Her advances were painfully obvious.

If I'd known that calling her "gorgeous" during the robbery would make her obsessed with me, I'd have thought twice about that too.

She was beautiful — still is, actually. Stunning, I'd say. But she wasn't a woman in my league.

Her pursuit was so transparent that my colleagues threw jabs at me constantly.

"The boss's daughter seems to really like you — she won't stop staring. Why don't you go chat her up, throw a little flirt her way? Maybe you'll even get a raise."

They'd laugh, mocking me. I didn't find it funny. I wanted to climb the ranks, but I wanted to earn it on merit.

When Don De Luca gave me my shot, he told me:

"You'll be one of my soldati, and training starts today. Don't think it'll be easy — it'll be brutal. But I always keep an eye out for new talent. Prove your worth, and I see no problem letting you rise."

He was the first person besides my mother who'd ever seen any value in me. My whole life, I'd been beaten down and told I was worthless.

Even my biological father didn't believe in me. Before he abandoned us for another woman, he told me I was a waste of energy.

I wanted to prove Don De Luca right — that I wasn't a waste. That his gamble on me would pay off.

But Savanna wouldn't let me. Her relentless pursuit reduced me to just "the guy the boss's daughter is obsessed with."

I thought ignoring her would make her give up. But the years kept passing and she kept pushing boundaries.

Summoning me to be alone with her. Making me watch while she tried on clothes.

Showing up in front of me in lingerie.

I had to admit — her body was incredible. But she was still the goddamn boss's daughter.

I even tried using Mia to keep her at bay. I didn't usually bring my sister around the job, but sometimes I did and pretended to enjoy her rambling — anything to make Savanna back off.

That only made everything worse.

She showed up in front of me with a marriage contract.

I was floored. Word among the soldati was that Don De Luca had been shopping for a groom for Savanna, and the frontrunner was the Martinelli heir — one of the De Luca family's biggest allies.

I read the contract and understood immediately. She was trying to use me to dodge an arranged marriage.

This would destroy everything I'd worked toward. She wanted to turn me into her plaything.

I felt cornered. If I refused, I might offend Don De Luca — everyone said Savanna was his whole world.

But I had a shot. Don De Luca seemed like a reasonable man. Maybe if I explained my reasons, he'd understand.

That's when she brought up my mother.

The stakes got higher. If I said no, my mother's care might suffer too. I could still try talking to the Don directly.

But I knew — Savanna had marked me. She held more power than I did. I didn't know her well, but people said she was spoiled rotten.

What would she be capable of if I crossed her?

The day my father abandoned us — left me alone with my sick mother — my life became a living hell. I'd learned young to do whatever it took to survive.

All that suffering had taught me one thing: love wasn't a goal in my life, and I never intended to marry. Marriage was just a prison. A sentence.

But there was Savanna, practically holding a gun to my head. The consequences of refusing were stacking up, tipping the scales.

So I accepted.

I told myself to treat it as a job and gave up on my pursuit of proving my worth.

After becoming Savanna's husband, I wasn't Giordano Ricci anymore. I was the boss's daughter's husband. Her toy.

I tried to be obedient, but I drew a hard line between us. I never wanted her to confuse our arrangement for something it wasn't.

She gave orders. I followed them. That was our life.

Her orders were silly — just indulging her whims.

"Gio, bring me flowers! I like red roses. That's an order."

"Gio, spend the weekend with me. That's an order."

"Carry me. That's an order."

"Make love to me all night. That's an order."

I had to admit — she smelled good. Her skin was incredibly soft.

Her green eyes were wild. Her curly hair gave her an aristocratic look, like she'd stepped out of some book about royalty.

She genuinely looked like a princess. Meanwhile, I had nothing special to offer.

In bed, even following her orders, it was the one place where I felt in control.

The way she melted in my arms, the way her face flushed beneath me — it was almost hypnotic.

But to me, we had nothing special. Our marriage was a job.

Years passed and I'd settled into the routine.

Then Mia called me, saying she'd been raped.