Lorenzo POV
The penthouse elevator doors slid shut behind us with a soft chime that felt too civilized for the night we’d had. Isabella stood in the middle of my living room, arms wrapped around her torn red dress like it could still protect her. Her lips were swollen from my mouth, her neck already bruising with my marks.
My c**k was rock hard by just looking at her.
“Strip,” I ordered, shrugging off my blood-splattered shirt and tossing it aside.
She lifted her chin, fire flashing in those dark eyes. “Go f**k yourself.”
I smiled. Slowly. Then pulled the gun from my holster and pointed it at her chest.
“Strip, principessa. Or I’ll cut the rest of that dress off with a knife while my men watch on the security feed. Your choice.”
Her hands trembled, but she obeyed. The ruined silk sl
