“Second.” He brushed his thumb over my lips. “The moment the ink touched that fucking paper, you were mine. Mine to fuck. Mine to fucking command, and mine to put in your fucking place.”

“Third.” He kissed me brutally before pulling away. “All this is over. You sit at my side and you stay beautiful, like a lady.”

I stared at him wide-eyed. “Is that all, master?”

He grinned, but before he could speak again, I pulled my head back and smashed it against his fucking nose. His head went back and his grip on me loosened. I brought my knees back just far enough to kick in him in the crotch, causing him to release me completely.

“You fucking—” he started, but I didn’t let him finish speaking before sideswiping his legs out from under him. With my now-ruined white Gucci heels on his neck, I glared down at him.

“First,” I said, pressing into his neck, “get used to this position, because you’re my bitch, not the other way around.”

“Second, do not ever put your fucking lips on me without my permission!”

He twisted my foot and brought me down to the ground, pinning me there with the weight of his body, before I could get to my third point

Fury burned in his eyes as he breathed roughly through his nose. “My mother told me never to hit a woman, but you are pushing my limits.”

“Funny, my father told me the same thing. Would you like me to apologize?” I pushed my thumbs to his eyes, forcing his hands to let go of my throat.

We fought and struggled on the ground like savage animals before he picked me up and threw me into the nearest wall. I grabbed a chair and smashed it against his side. It went on and on, each of us trying our best to kill the other without actually killing each other.

When I landed a kick to his side, he fucking grabbed me like a ragdoll and flung me across the room. It was nothing. Instead of letting myself feel the pain, I jumped back up. My heels were now long gone, and the dress I had changed into just to meet him was torn up the sides. His suit jacket had been lost in the heat of the battle, his shirt was ripped, and his tie was barely hanging around his neck. His hair was even more disheveled, and eyes were wilder than the fucking jungle.

When my fist collided with his cheek, he drew his gun and aimed it directly at my face. He stalled when he got a good look at me. Panting like the beast he was, the lust in his eyes returned in full force.

Without a second thought, he pushed me up against the wall before attacking me with kisses. His mouth was everywhere, from my neck down to the front of my chest, back to the sides of my face, before it met mine again. He gripped my ass with one hand and my breast with the other, the one that still held his gun. I felt his hard-on pushing against my waist, trying its best to find its way inside me. His actions were barbaric, almost animalistic, like a man dying of thirst, and the only source of water was my skin.

I loved every moment of it.

But I would not let him win. I would not bow down to him. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not ever.

He was so busy trying to figure out how to get the zipper of my dress down that taking the gun from him was like taking candy from a baby. Frantically rubbing himself against me even harder, closer, he almost just let me have the firearm.

With one great push, I forced his body to separate from mine, which surprisingly missed his warmth already. He stared at me with desperation. I pointed the gun and pulled the trigger, causing his leg to buckle. He started in shock as the bullet went through his thigh, then roared in pain as he fell down on one knee.

That’s right, hail to the Boss.

“Third, if you ever interrupt me again, Liam Alec Callahan, may God have mercy on your soul when I send you meet to him.” I kissed him on the cheek and removing the clip from the gun, along with the bullet in the chamber, before walking toward the door.

When I opened it, my men were there with guns drawn on Declan and Neal, who mirrored their poses. It explained why neither of them had come in. They couldn’t check the door without putting their backs to the enemy.

My men all looked me up and down with proud grins on their faces.

“What would you like us to do with them, ma’am?” one of them, Antonio Franco, asked, grinning wider than the rest of them. Antonio hated the Callahans as much as Fedel did. He wasn’t as close to me as Monte or Fedel, but he was as loyal as they come. He and his father had worked for Orlando long before I took over. Getting him to fall in line had meant getting the older ones—the ones who were still bitter that I, a female, and a young one at that, was now Boss—to fall in line.

I turned to my family-in-law and smiled before reaching out to shake their hands. “I apologize for not being properly introduced. As you know, I’m Melody Nicci Giovanni, but you may call me Mel.”

They didn’t shake back. Instead they glared, their guns still raised.

“Oh, right, your brother.” I pretended to forget. “He is a little beat up and will need a doctor. But don’t worry—the shot was clean through and through. He’ll be walking in a few hours. You may check on him, and I will have Adriana show you to your rooms.”

I nodded to my men, directing them to drop their weapons—they frowned but complied—before following me toward the elevator. It opened to reveal not only my father, but also the eldest Mr. Callahan. Making me realize, once again, the Callahans were blessed with almost a little too much pretty for my liking.

My father looked me up and down before shaking his head and sighing while Sedric just stared with no expression on his face.

“Did my son do this to you?” he asked, looking at my slightly bruised arms and legs, cut lips, and messed up hair.

“It was a small disagreement.” I smiled. “And I shot him for it. If he weren’t my future husband, it would have been worse. I do hope we can be introduced properly later, Mr. Callahan, as I find your past work fascinating.”

And with that I stepped into the elevator as it reopened. It was only when the doors were closing that I saw Liam’s brother and cousin rush back into the room to collect him. I withheld my laughter.

“I’m shocked you didn’t shoot him in the kneecap for that shit, ma’am,” Antonio said as we made our way up.

I smiled. “How would I look with a handicapped husband, Antonio?”

The moment we reached the top floor, I headed straight into my room. I had it conjoined with my father’s once he became worse. I almost sighed at the feeling of the soft carpet on my bare feet. This room, my room, was my sanctuary. The day I took over, I had it remodeled to a more eighteenth-century Roman décor—paintings included.

Changing into a white and gold bathing suit, I headed toward the swimming pool. I felt dirty and downright tired, but the last thing I wanted was for the bruises on my skin to linger more than a few hours. The way to avoid that was to take a swim in ice water. It would sting at first, but a few hours later my skin, and my mind, would be good as new—clear. God knew it was fucked up now.

I could still feel his hands all over me, demanding and possessive. His lips as they bit into my neck, my ear, and at last my lips. He wasn’t just a good kisser, he was a sensual kisser. He wanted to make sure, with just one kiss, that I was wet for him and willing to give in. Had I been anyone else, it would have worked.

There was no doubt in my mind that he knew what to do and how to do it. He was a force, and I wouldn’t have minded, if he hadn’t come into my house and tried to make me into his little Stepford wife.

In the pool, I shivered, but I needed to try to escape him. I couldn’t, though. He was there pushing his way to the front of my mind. I hated him. I loathed him. I lusted after him, and it made me angry with myself. Even in the cold water, as I swam I felt him pressing against me. I felt the electricity of his hands, his sensual tongue. I couldn’t deny that I wanted him.