Hugo knelt in front of me again, his fingers tracing a path along my jaw. “You’re a beautiful little thing,” he said, his tone mockingly soft. “Maybe I’ll keep you as a pet and prisoner after I dump Dario’s body in the street.”

I glared at him, my voice steady and defiant. “I’m already Dario’s prisoner, Hugo. And I only serve one master, and that’s Dario. I’d rather die than serve an old man with a rusty pipe between his legs.”

The words barely left my mouth before his hand struck my face, the force of the blow knocking me onto my side. Pain exploded in my cheek, blood dripping from my nose and lips.

Hugo loomed over me, his face twisted with rage. “Careful, girl,” he hissed. “That rusty pipe will fuck you right in front of your lover before I kill him. That’ll be the last thing he sees before he rots in hell.”

I stared up at him, hatred burning in my eyes. I would rather die than let this man in between my legs. Dario would come. He had to.

90 days with my billionaire ex

The morning sunlight peeked through the curtains of my hotel room in Venice, its warmth doing little to ease the unease settling in my chest. I’d barely slept, tossing and turning all night. The events at the club played on a loop in my mind—Hugo’s hands, his whispers, the way his eyes seemed to strip me bare. My fingers tightened around the sheets as I tried to push away the memory. 


Bruno had insisted I stay in the room while he went out to scout the area, but the tension between us lingered. He hadn’t apologized for pulling me away from Hugo, and part of me hated him for it. The other part, the one that felt oddly safe around him, was harder to ignore. 


I glanced at the mirror. My reflection stared back, looking braver than I felt. I’d come so far in just a few days—learning to defend myself, to act the part Dario needed me to play. And yet, every step of this mission felt like I was walking deeper into a lion’s den. 


Damsel In Distress