Ginny's POV

The next night, the room felt smaller, my chest heavier with the promise Luciano had made yesterday to ruin every inch of me and somehow I anticipated the wreckage.

I stood in front of the tall mirror wearing nothing but the silver collar that now felt like a second skin. The delicate metal rested warm against my throat, the small ring catching the low golden light. Don Luciano stood behind me, his tall frame casting a shadow over my bare curves. His hands rested possessively on my hips, his thumbs tracing slow circles that made my skin prickle with fresh heat.

“Look at yourself, little dove,” he murmured,...