by Reilly, Cora
“Yes,” I got out, even though my brain was screaming no at me. The voice was Anna as usual. This wasn’t the plan. This was madness. But I could still confront him when we were alone. That was better anyway. This was between us and not for a crowd to witness.
After what felt like eternity, Danilo took my hand and pulled me along. I had trouble staying on my high heels, trouble setting one step after the other as my heart throbbed painfully. The stone pathway was uneven beneath my shoes as I stumbled after him, feeling less like the confident, sexy vamp with every passing second.
He dragged me around the corner of the house, down an even narrower path into the surrounding woods. The pathway was lit dimly by small lanterns dangling from wooden poles. I tightened my grip on him both to keep my balance and because I needed something to hold on to. He left the path and slowed to give me a chance to find my footing on the rough forest floor. “Still yes?” he asked as he turned.
I nodded, looking around. We were in the middle of the woods. The lights from the lanterns was even dimmer here but it was enough for me to make out Danilo’s attractive face. Were we supposed to have sex here? Suddenly, he turned me around and pressed my back against a tree, grinding himself against me. My eyes flew open when I felt his erection digging into my belly. The most I’d ever done was dance with Danilo and hold his hand for a moment. I’d dreamed about more, had fantasized about his touch, but this was nothing like my fantasy.
His mouth returned to my ear. “I’m going to fuck you hard right against this tree. I’m not in the mood for fucking foreplay, so you better tell me now if your pussy is ready to take my cock,” he growled.
Fear swirled in my chest, stealing my breath, and with it any sane thought. This was what he did with all the blonde girls?
“Tell me,” he ordered.
This was my chance for the big reveal. Anna and I had gone over the moment often. How I’d remove my mask and my wig and whisper “I’m Sofia” in his ear. We’d imagined his shock, perhaps his guilt. Anna had told me I needed to lay down new ground rules.
But the words wouldn’t leave my mouth.
I gave a sharp nod, so confused and broken up and shaken.
“Say it.”
“Yes.” I didn’t even recognize my voice.
He turned me around, so I had to support myself against the tree. The bark of the fir was dry and rough against my palms as I braced myself against the tree trunk. I stared at it, breathing shakily, tears stinging my eyes. He pulled down the zipper at the back of my leather pants and shoved them down. My panties followed. The cold hit my skin and I shivered. “I like your ass,” he rasped. He pushed my legs further apart with his foot and squeezed my ass cheek once.
I couldn’t connect these actions with the Danilo I desired and loved.
It would hurt. He’d tear me apart. I knew the stories of other girls, and they hadn’t been taken like this. I could stop this before real damage was done. I should have stopped it to save my honor. But I did not.
Maybe this was the true solution.
I waited silently, brokenly, hoping that this would finally set me free, free from crushing on a man who’d never wanted me. A man who spent every night chasing women who looked like my sister. A man who had never seen my worth.
I was crying, hot tears dripping from my eyes, scorching my cold cheeks under my mask, but I didn’t make a sound. I didn’t want him to stop. I needed him to continue and set me free. And then I felt him against me, his grip painful on my waist. I stared at the bark, listening to his harsh breathing. The cold seeped into my body, but I didn’t mind.
“I’m going to fuck you hard,” he growled.
No, he was going to kill me slowly, splinter me into millions of pieces of despair and hurt.
His grip tightened and he pushed forward, then jerked to a stop as my body refused to let him in. Stars blazed before my eyes as a sharp pain cut through me. I choked, bit down on the inside of my cheek. Hard, harder, tasting blood as it swirled on my tongue. I was cut in half with a sharp blade, torn apart by burning tongs. I was pain and humiliation and a crushed stupid heart.
“What the fuck?” Danilo snarled. I let out a small sob, then bit down hard on my lower lip to shut up. He tensed. My fingers shook against the rough tree trunk, its ridges scratching my palm, my eyes fixed on my engagement ring. I hadn’t taken it off. It mocked me with its shining beauty, with everything it should stand for and didn’t. A beautiful sign of love and devotion. The diamond flickered in the lantern light. So very beautiful. So meaningless.
Danilo froze and let out a sharp breath. His fingers moved to mine, touching the ring. His ring. His touch was suddenly feather-soft, as if the anger had slid right out of him. He exhaled with a shudder. “Sofia?” he rasped, voice shaking.
Sofia. For a moment I wasn’t sure if I was still her—if I even still knew who she was.
I couldn’t say anything, couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, could hardly breathe. I’d stopped living, merely existed now. I was gone, gone, gone.
His palm stroked over my hip, so very gently, and he pulled out slowly. I whimpered, arched. The sound surprised me. I was numb. Numb and burning up with pain. Physically and deep in my chest.
Danilo tensed. “Oh God,” he breathed. Something trickled out of me.
He turned me around, lifted my mask, but his fingers hovered against my temples so softly. Tears blurred my vision as he appeared before me, tall and dark, his sharp features lacking the previous brutality, the aggression gone from his face.
“Sofia.” It was half plea, half groan. I didn’t understand. His thumbs smoothed away my tears, gliding so softly over my cheeks that I cried harder. I wanted to stop but couldn’t.
“I–I . . .” My words were like shrapnel in my throat. “I think I’m bleeding.”
“Fuck,” he breathed. Anguish. Was it his? Or mine?
Clothes rustled and a belt clinked. He bent and carefully pulled up my panties and pants, edging them over my hips. I didn’t move, only stared at him. He didn’t bother closing the zipper of my pants. I didn’t care.
He wrapped an arm around me and lifted me. His heartbeat raced against my temple as I leaned against his chest. He didn’t say anything as he carried me through the woods. He stayed away from the lit pathways, choosing the dark. It felt good to be cloaked in nothingness.
Eventually, the lodge appeared like a beacon of light, and with it the sound of music, laughter, and conversation. “Bury your face against my chest in case we run across someone,” he said gently, and I did, breathing in his familiar perfume, something crisp and woodsy. He walked to the back entrance, and then we were heading upstairs. The music and the voices started to dim.
A door creaked, and I peered up when the lights came on. We were in a bedroom. Danilo lay me down on a soft mattress and hovered over me, his face close to mine. His eyes swirled with emotions, but his face was perfectly still, beautifully controlled. He removed my wig with careful fingers and put it down on the nightstand with my cat mask. He pulled back, and for a moment, he only looked at me. I’d never regarded his face as unabashedly as I did now. There was nothing in me to be embarrassed or shy, or anything. I was empty. Nothing.
His gaze moved lower to my legs. They were stiff. I ached too much to move them. I felt sticky between my thighs. “I’m ruining my pants,” I whispered. It was such a ridiculous thing to worry about, but I couldn’t help it. His expression was like a thunderstorm.
I tried to push down my pants, but the leather seemed glued to my sweaty skin. I wasn’t even sure why I was sweating when I was feeling so cold.
“Do you need help?” Danilo murmured.
I nodded and let my arms drop to my side. Danilo hooked his hands in my pants and dragged them down my legs, so much gentler than before. He fought to free my feet of the pant legs and finally dropped my pants on the floor, leaving me in my panties. They were mint-colored, one of my favorite colors, but I could tell they were ruined. I reached out, hands sha
king, touched my inner thigh and lifted my palm. My fingertips were coated in light pink. It wasn’t as much as I’d thought, and not pure red like I’d feared.
I shuddered out a breath.
Danilo closed his eyes, shoulders heaving, face contorting. Then he turned and moved into the adjoining bathroom. I heard water running, and when he returned, he had a washcloth. He sank down beside my hip, not meeting my eyes as he took the hand I was still staring at. He wiped it with the warm cloth, removing the blood from my fingertips.
“Do you want to clean yourself?” he asked, holding up the cloth. I stared at his face in silence. His brown eyes searched mine. “Sofia, say something, anything. Do you want me to call a doctor?”
“No,” I croaked. My family had suffered enough—they didn’t need this added to their pain.
His gaze darted to my panties then back up. “Emma’s got clothes in her room. Do you want me to get you fresh underwear?”
I nodded.
He stood and held out the wet washcloth, but I didn’t take it. He dropped it on the nightstand before he left the room. He returned quickly with a pair of black panties.
I hadn’t moved an inch.
He lowered himself on the bed and put the panties down beside me. Everything about this felt strange. Surreal.
His eyes came to rest on my still-sticky thighs. “You need to clean yourself and take a look to make sure I . . . that I didn’t seriously hurt you . . .” His deep voice trailed off before he looked into my eyes again.
I stared back at him, at the soft hazel-tone of his eyes, at the worry edged into every inch of his handsome face. I waited for the fuzzy feeling in my belly, but again I felt nothing.
“Sofia,” he rasped.
I reached for my panties, my fumbling fingers too shaky to shove them down.
He reached out, his hands stilling mine and touching my waistband. His eyes sought mine questioningly.
He waited.
For what?
My permission? He had been inside of me, what did it matter if he pulled down my panties again? He seemed to see the answer on my face, and finally slid my ruined panties down my legs, throwing them into a bin beside the bed. He grabbed the washcloth, held it out to me once more, but I refused to take it.
I was tired and drained. Broken. I didn’t want to make this easy on him. I wanted him to suffer as much as I did.
He angled his upper body toward me, his warm hand touching my knee. He gently parted my legs just enough so he could reach between them. Deep down, I knew I should have felt shy and ashamed of being this vulnerable, but I didn’t feel anything.
He ran the warm cloth over my inner thigh as if I were a butterfly wing, as if the barest touch could make me crumple. Where had the brutal dominance gone?
A muscle in his cheek twitched, but apart from that, his face was stone. He cleaned my other thigh before he pushed my legs a bit farther apart. A shiver raced down my body when he exposed me. I hadn’t been waxed yet. I always trimmed myself, but I wasn’t smooth as it was expected for a wedding night. “I’m sorry I’m not groomed yet,” I said tonelessly. Why was I apologizing?
Danilo’s eyes burned into mine. I didn’t understand the look in them. The fiery smolder might have ignited the glimmer of childish hope in my chest if my heart hadn’t been turned to eternal ice. “Sofia . . .” My name rang like a lament from his mouth, and then he fell silent again.
He turned his head, and I watched those sharp regal features I couldn’t stop dreaming about. Maybe now I would. His shoulders tightened as he touched my inner thigh, applying the lightest pressure until my legs opened further for him. He ghosted the cloth over my sore flesh, and I shrank away with a whimper. A shadow passed his face, a remnant of his previous fury, and a flicker of fear sparked in my ribcage.
I forced myself to still as he cleaned me with light brushes, then his fingers touched my thigh lightly and I became even stiller, my breath locking in my throat. Danilo pulled back and swallowed. “You should see a doctor.”
I shook my head.
“Sofia, I want to make sure you’ll be okay.”
I shook my head again. My body would heal, and the part of me that really needed mending couldn’t be healed by a doctor. I wasn’t sure if it could be healed at all. “I’m okay,” I pressed out.
His eyes were more expressive than they’d ever been when he’d looked at me. But the emotions I saw in them weren’t the ones I wanted. There was guilt, concern, and pity. I wanted more.
I looked away, my throat closing up again. I’d never felt more stupid in my life. But deep down, beneath the shame and hurt, a fiery ball of anger had started to glow.
He bent down and kissed my half-raised knee, looking like someone was twisting a knife in his chest. The touch of his lips, so gentle and careful, kindled a flame that I squashed at once. No more.
“My first kiss.”
Danilo’s eyes snapped up to me, brimming with a myriad of emotions. “What?” he murmured.
“That was my first kiss.” It was a stupid thing to say, a ridiculous, childish thing, but I didn’t blush, didn’t feel embarrassed. Emotions were a distant memory.
He swallowed, looked down to the bloody washcloth in his hand, then squeezed his eyes shut. He leaned his cheek against my knee, his stubble scratchy against my skin. “I deserve to go to hell for this.”
I was mute. What could I possibly say? Danilo held out the panties and picked up the leather pants. “Can you get dressed?”
I reached out, and noticed a small cut in my palm, probably from holding onto the tree so hard. A trickle of blood followed the ridges in my skin. Danilo took the washcloth and cleaned the blood off my hand.
“It’s not deep,” he said.
Before he dropped my hand, he lifted it to his mouth and kissed my fingertips and my palm. He released me and I let my arm sink down to the bed. My skin still tingled from the affectionate gesture. I tried to make sense of the situation, of everything that had happened in these last few minutes and before, but my brain couldn’t process the enormity of it all.
Guilt was a feeling I was intimately familiar with, a constant presence shadowing my life ever since Emma’s accident that had been affirmed after Serafina’s kidnapping.
Yet, the strength of my guilt after what I’d just done hit me by surprise.
Occasionally, I’d felt a flicker of guilt toward Sofia, but now the flicker was a roaring flame burning my insides.
Sofia lay on the bed before me, her eyes distant. I didn’t even want to imagine what images were flitting through her mind.
How I’d talked to her like she was a whore?
How I’d pushed her against the tree and tried to shove myself into her?
What was she doing here? At my lodge? At a party she had absolutely no business being? And how had she gotten in? The need to interrogate her rose in me, and with it anger, but now wasn’t the time. She was still naked and most likely in shock. I needed to get her away from here before someone found out about this.
“Sofia, you need to get dressed,” I urged her again.
She grabbed the panties and inched them up her legs, her movements slow and distracted. She had trouble getting her tight leather pants in place, so I helped her. Sitting up, she closed the zipper over her butt before she leaned back against the headboard as if the movement had already drained her of all energy.
Laughter carried through the hallway. I’d made it clear that the upstairs rooms were off limits, but obviously a few drunkards had other things on their mind. Most of the rooms were locked, except the one we were in.
I shoved to my feet and stalked to the door, ripping it open. Scowling down the hallway, I discovered Samuel with an arm around a chick. Of course, he’d be the one ignoring my order. He was dressed as a goddamn cowboy and it fit his blond sunny boy look perfectly. The girls were going crazy about him. I was enraged over his obvious disrespect for my sister before the stark realization of what I had done set in. I wasn’t an
y better. I was also fucking girls, and I hadn’t even realized that my latest conquest was my fiancée. I was a fucking asshole.
Samuel looked my way, but his gaze was unfocused, and he was leaning heavily on the girl at his side. I doubted he’d be able to fuck her, much less remember a single thing of tonight in the morning. “Keys?” he slurred.
Gritting my teeth, I closed the door behind me and unlocked the door to the guest bedroom. Samuel gave me a drunken grin before he stumbled inside with the girl. He’d either be busy for a while or pass out.
I returned to my bedroom where Sofia was still exactly how I’d left her. I was really starting to worry about her, but calling a doctor, even if it was my most trusted man, didn’t sit well with me—and it was against Sofia’s explicit wish.
I had to find out what had happened. “Are you alone?” I asked in a low voice.
For a moment, she looked at me blankly.
“At the party,” I added. It was highly unlikely that she was alone. Carlo had mentioned that Sofia would be spending the weekend at the Mione lake lodge nearby, but I had been busy with work and party planning and hadn’t paid much attention.
She bit her lip, obviously weighing her words, her fingers fumbling with the covers.
Someone had gotten her here. She avoided my eyes. Sinking down beside her, I nudged her chin up but quickly pulled back when she tensed. Fuck. I was such a goddamn asshole.
“Where are your bodyguards? And how did you get here?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Then I’ll have to call your father.” It was the last thing I wanted to do, but honor dictated it. Sofia was his daughter and had run away from her bodyguards and found me at this party. I didn’t ask her why she’d sought me out, why she’d worn that blonde wig and used her sister’s perfume. I knew, and it made my guilt burn all the fiercer. Sofia wasn’t stupid. She wasn’t as naïve as I’d thought—had wished she was—but I’d have preferred it didn’t take this to make me realize it. My anger had overshadowed everything else, had made me act without considering what my actions might do to my young fiancée. I’d been lost in my need to get revenge, to fuck the anger out of my system.
