Chapter 1

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."

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