“Why?” she asked. “I’m not … I’m nothing like the Victorias of this world.”
“Valentina, for three days, you were taken and tortured, and not once did you give up any secrets. Don’t give me the bullshit that you don’t know what I’m talking about. That you don’t know anything. I know you. I know you are very much aware of the kind of secrets those men wanted. Even down to locations of certain capos. For three days, you showed a strength none of those other women have. No one else saw it, but I did, and when I rescued you and held you in my arms, I knew I wasn’t going to allow anyone else to harm you. You were mine to protect.” She wasn’t ready to know the true extent of his feelings for her, but when the time came, he wouldn’t hold back. “And that is exactly why I knew I had to have you as my own.”
****
“Again!”
Valentina got to her feet. Her body was covered in sweat, and she might have some bruises, which was all her own doing, but she was getting tired of how damn fast this man was. She was starting to see why they called him The Butcher. There was no winning with this guy.
“Attack.”
They’d been training for several hours already, and this had been happening for the past five days. After making love in the morning, enjoying breakfast, and a long walk, they ended up back at his gym, training until dinner. Then come night, she was passed out. The first day, he had gotten her used to some stances to take. How to hold her fists. Getting out of certain positions if she was met with an attacker. Then he swiftly moved on to where he wanted her to attack him.
The goal he’d given her was to get him down to his knees or on the floor by any means possible. So far, for two days, she’d failed. No matter what she did, he was able to avoid her bringing him down, and what was worst, he’d even whispered in her ear he wasn’t even trying.
She charged toward him, attempting to swing for him, but he captured her, drawing her back to him. Then he used her weight and speed against her, thrusting her away until she was a heap on the floor.
Growling, she slammed her hand on the mat. “Why are you doing this? Clearly I need more training.”
“I’m teaching you not to give up.”
“Come on, Giovanni. We both know that if this was the kind of attack we’d face, they would have guns and knives. I’d be dead long before I would have the ability to keep on attacking.”
She didn’t want to keep fighting him.
She wanted to explore him, to feel more than making love. When it came to her husband, she wanted to … fuck, it was impossible to know what exactly she wanted. Back home, she hadn’t been exposed to too much explicit material, and the few things she did know was from listening to some of the maids and stumbling on a couple of the men’s mistresses. That was all. Vague conversations.
Some women liked sex, and from what she’d experienced with Giovanni, she was one of them.
“Attack your assailant in any way to bring him down. The way to do it is with surprise.”
Giovanni wasn’t just any assailant. He was her husband, and even though what she was about to do wouldn’t work at home, it might just work here.
“Come on. Attack,” he said.
She got to her feet, but this time, she stared at him. They both wore shorts, and he didn’t have a shirt on. His heavily inked chest was on full display, along with his thighs and arms. He was a distraction.
She wore a pair of shorts, a horrible sports bra, and his oversized shirt. Valentina had never considered herself seductive. Far from it, but she reached for the shirt and removed it, tossing it aside.
She didn’t care if she had a red face, was covered in sweat, or if she might stink a little, she wanted her husband.
He wanted to train.
And neither of them was truly getting what they wanted.
“Valentina?” he asked.
She wriggled out of the tight gym shorts that were like a second skin. Then she took care of the sports bra, feeling so much better when it was gone. All she had to do was take the panties off, and then she’d be free, which she did.
Naked.
Valentina turned to face him. Her heart raced.
Even though she wanted him, she wasn’t sure this was the correct way to get what she wanted. A honeymoon. A real one that none of the women back home ever knew. One where her husband was completely devoted to her, and there was no fear.
“Giovanni,” she said, moving toward him and making sure to swing her hips. She had an odd feeling that she looked like a gawky, too-tall teenager rather than the seductress she was going for.
With her hands on his chest, she ran them up his body, circling his waist and pressing her hands flush to his. “I want you,” she said.