by Sonya Jesus
Slightly soothed by the idea, I remove my shorts and shirt and step inside the tub, easing my way under the cascade. Small steps so I don’t hyperventilate. In order to take my mind off of the water, I think of how much my and Tony’s relationship has changed since we started dating.
At some point, the girl I was appealed to him. When he escorted me home and told me Luca had been the one to set the fire, he wasn’t Beppe’s successor, and I wasn’t the doll.
We were both nothing.
I was the target. The second-time survivor. The naïve girl who believed lies.
And he was a nobody, making his way up.
I didn’t know it then, but he was assigned to watch me and help me forget my NY life while Beppe reformed the rebel with invisible shackles and threats. I truly believe, somewhere along our path, Tony fell for me—or for the foolish rebellious girl who didn’t see what was right in front of her.
Until Beppe took the fight out of me, Tony and I had a physical connection. Sexual chemistry that turned infatuation into flares, setting off a start without ever thinking of an end. We raced through our emotions, obliterating the confines simply because of the spark between us. We burned through lust until our bodies disconnected, and then, all that was left was an empty realization. We weren’t enough for each other. There were vacancies inside us.
I had a Luca-sized hole within me.
Tony had a lot of holes. Mostly in the head.
He’s not all there all the time. He’s always focused on power and money, and another part of his brain is always honed in on pleasure. Multiple partners, voyeurism—whatever it is… Tony loves to try it.
More specifically, he gets a thrill out of having sex in public and being watched, but he can’t do that with me anymore. It would go against Beppe’s perfect daughter ruse, so when I wasn’t enough, or rather, when I conformed to my father’s wishes because of the Tree House, Charlotte, and my sanity, I was no longer exciting.
But I was Tony’s ticket to power. He needed me.
I don’t know if he always saw me that way, or if Beppe convinced him of it, but we used each other, and somewhere along the line, we learned to care for one another. In a weird, messed-up kind of way. Before I found out my father killed my family, I thought Tony would take me away from my deranged father, so I played the part, while Tony claimed me because he could, because he needed to, and I don’t think he’d willingly give me up. Even if he doesn’t love me.
That’s why I have to force him to.
I shut the water off and rest my head against the wet tiles. Out of all the steps I have planned, this one is the hardest and one of the riskiest. I don’t know how he’ll take me confessing about cheating on him. Probably not well, but given he cheats on me all the time, I have a feeling he’ll let it slide, especially if I play my cards right.
By the time Tony comes back inside, I’m rinsed off and sitting on my chair in the nook, staring out the window. I don’t bother to cover myself because I don’t really care who sees me. My life here is almost coming to an end.
“You’re not dressed?”
I sigh and twist my hair, wringing the water from my thick strands onto the towel while I look at him. Here we go. “Why did you come back yesterday? Weren’t you busy?”
I want to hate Tony for lying to me, for using me to gain power, but he is the closest thing I’ve had to a friend for a long time. A present one, at least. Charlotte doesn’t come here. I don’t want her anywhere near the Don.
I could never tell Tony how bad things got or cry in his arms, but his presence helps.
I tell myself it’s because he wanted to be, but I know it’s because he had to be. He was just an escape from my life. It was always me being someone I wasn’t. Turning off a little piece of me at a time so I could be someone else.
Shame flickers through his gaze, and he tears his eyes away from me before closing the door behind him. “Vinnie gave me a heads-up.”
“Aww… did the little show yesterday suddenly spur a soft side to him?”
Tony sits beside me on the bed. “I care about you, Isabella.”
“Sometimes, I wonder if you do.”
His nostrils flare at my insinuation. He rolls his tongue over his perfect white teeth before he tilts my chin up to him. “You need me to show you?” His finger brushes my cheek and drags along my bottom lip. “You still owe me for yesterday.”
“Oh?” I smile and wrap my hand around his. “You didn’t work out the tension at Unita with one of your whores?” I yank his hand away from my face and drop it in disgust. “If you were here, maybe none of that would’ve happened.”
“Careful, doll face. Blaming me for the shit your dad does to you sounds like misplaced anger.”
“I’m never angry,” I say it with a level voice. Just like most of the conversation. “Dolls don’t get angry.”
“You used to.”
“I used to do a lot of things.” I swallow as I drop my towel, activating the part of him that’s always tuned into sex. “A lot of those things I did naked.”
He smirks and runs his hand through his dark hair. “A lot of those things you did dressed, if I remember right… but it’s been a long time since.”
The thing about public sex, is you have to be creative with clothing. “Do you miss it, Tony?”
“Miss you being you?” He sucks in air through his teeth and leans back, as if the weight of it is too much to compress in one shot. “I miss the old you a lot.”
“I miss me a lot too.” This part is true. “I’ve been something for so many people that I don’t know who I am anymore.”
“You’re mine, babe.”
“That’s not an identity.”
“It is for you.” He stands up and walks toward me, guiding me under the cameras so the guards can see me naked. He likes to show off what he has and they can’t have.
“I think Vinnie’s seen enough, don’t you?” I step back out of his reach and head for my dresser. Covering up will make it even more enticing.
“I don’t care…” he answers truthfully.
That’s why he won’t care when I tell him about the wedding.
“Why did he call you last night?”
“Vinnie’s my best friend, he knows seeing you upset isn’t what I want. We’re getting married next week, and he’s going to be in charge of your detail. You have to learn to trust he won’t let anything happen to you. You know things aren’t safe for you.”
From the imaginary threats. “Are you going to tell me I’m still in danger?”
His lie is effortless, like it’s been for five years. “Probably more so now than ever. The Cabralis…”
“Want nothing to do with me.”
He squints his eyes and remains calm, waiting for me to elaborate.
I swipe the towel from the floor and toss it on the bed before pulling out a T-shirt. “I think I’ve played along for enough time. You can stop pretending like I’m in danger. It’s been a long time since the massacre and look…” I point to myself and pinch my thigh. “Still here.”
“Are you asking if I’m lying to you?”
“No.” I glance over at him; he seems relieved by my answer. “I know you set the fire at St. Theresa’s.”
No denial, but his eyes are very aware of the bare skin beneath the thin fabric. “Why would you think that?” he placates me.
“Because someone saw you,” I lie. “And Charlotte told me. I’ve known for a year and I’m still here, wearing this.” I hold my finger up. “Does that not show you loyalty?”
Someone knocks on the door, and he opens it to find one of the guards with a small tray. Tony blocks their view of me, as if they hadn’t been watching me from the cameras.
“What? Now you want to cover me up?”
He shuts the door and places the tray on the bed before addressing me. “Isabella, I don’t know where this is coming from.”
“After last night, I’m tired of behaving.” For this to work, I need to r
emind Tony of the girl he liked all those years ago. The Rebel.
He shakes his head and leans against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest and eyeing me hungrily. “What does this have to do with the fire?”
“I don’t care if you set it. I care that my father paid you to set it.”
“You’ve been listening to too many stories, Bells. I wouldn’t go around blaming your father for a fire your ex-boyfriend set. It’s probably a trap. Someone trying to get under your skin to make you vulnerable. Like a Cabrali.”
I let that roll off my shoulder. “You don’t have to lie to me anymore, Tony.” I flip around, using my body as a distraction. The physical chemistry between us has always been there. I once was Tony Astori’s dream girl, and it’s been a while since he’s touched his dream.
No matter what I say, he will never give up Beppe unless I push him. I step forward, taking a seat on the edge of the bed near the tray. My next step can backfire on me in so many ways, but I’m willing to risk his wrath if it gets me what I need: either the truth or evidence for blackmail.
I need to tease his kinky side to the surface, or trigger his anger. And there’s only one way I know how to do that.
“I don’t want to lie to you anymore, Tony.”
Chapter Seven
Defiance
Isabella Santini
Tony throws his shoulders back, stretching the muscles of his chiseled chest. With a bended knee, he flattens one foot against the wall, readying himself for an attack, and cocks his head to the side. In less than fifteen seconds, the tension in the room intensifies; the massive room becomes cramped. Stifling.
My hand flutters to my neck, fingers tracing the inverted omega shape between my clavicle. It relieves the tension straining my voice, similar to a pressure point.
Tony flattens his lips, undoubtedly debating whether or not to speak or wait for me to elaborate. Tucking his hand into his pocket, he jokes, “Don’t drop signals, and not unleash the truth bombs, Isabella. I’m waiting for my shit to explode.”
I fold my hands neatly in my lap. This is it. If I reveal this truth, I can’t take it back. I’m taking a guess on how he’s going to react, but the Tony I met five years ago, is a lot different than the guy standing in my bedroom today. He always has something to prove. I’m hoping that still holds true.
“Isabella, what could you possibly be lying to me about?” The humor in his tone gives me pause.
No contemplation. “I cheated on you.”
He bolts for me, forcefully yanking me up my elbow and shaking me in the process. “Isabella, you better be fucking with me.” His eyes search mine for an inkling, but I had been cheating on him, so all he finds is truth. “Which fucker?”
I could say Vinnie, or any one of the guards, but that will send him into a murder spree. I need him to stake his claim. Me cheating on him with no one would fling him off his axis. “No one you know.”
Tony’s never once hit me, but he throws me on the bed with such force the coffee and orange juice spill everywhere. With one hand, he arcs his fingers around my neck, pinning me down by the throat. He straddles me between his thighs, one knee on either side of me as he stares down at me. “When, Isabella?” he spits out.
There’s a roughness and a sharpness in his actions, but yet, he takes care not to hurt me.
“At Charlotte’s wedding. I went to the bathroom. He followed me.”
He swipes the tray off the bed, pancakes and syrup tossed on the white rug, shutting me up. “You’ve had a year! Why the fuck are you telling me this one week before we are getting married?”
“No secrets.”
He shakes his head and eases up on his grip. We had once promised not to keep secrets from each other, but then Beppe promised him the world, and secrets came with the territory. “This…” he growls as he rests on his calves, “you should have kept a secret.”
“Why? After the car with Vinnie… I can’t stop thinking about how it was with us… before. Remember Unita?”
“No, Isabella. Don’t distract me.” No matter what he says, I can see the swelling between his legs. Fury should have him choking me, but he’s turned on. I’m challenging him to be better than the guy I cheated on him with—to erase him from inside me. “I want to know who.”
“It doesn’t matter who.”
He smirks and releases my neck to run his hand through his hair. “Really? So, you slut around and expect me not to want to know who the guy is?” He cocks his head and clicks his tongue. “You know me better than that.”
“I do…” And I know the exact details he would like to know. Tony’s creative imagination, especially when it comes to sex, comes in handy. “Would you rather know who it was, or take me to Unita and explore with me?”
He confidently peers down at me, a throaty chuckle filling the space between us. “Unita? No… I want all of it, Isabella.”
What? “All of what?”
“Every fucking detail.”
Well, that took a turn. I expected him to tell me to get ready, not dish out the details right this very second. “I want you to take me to—”
“No, not until you tell me.”
Fuck. “Tell you what?”
“Do you think about him? About that night?”
I sigh softly and put my hands on his chest. A solid block of muscle resists my efforts. “Get off of me, Tony.”
He lifts a single brow and scratches the scruff at his jaw. “I don’t think you understand.” His calmness evaporates, and the tone of his voice deepens, hinting at his seriousness. “It’s not an option. I want to fucking know.”
“Sometimes,” I mumble.
His eyes nearly pop out of his skull. “Were you wet?
The words “I’m not doing this” sit on my tongue, but like every other time, my choices are limited. In reply, I nod, my body recalling Luca’s urgency. Like our first time and last time all in one—the heat. The pull, the energy between us, it sucked all the patience out of us. We had barely spent more than fifteen minutes before our bodies howled for each other.
“Where?”
“Bathroom.”
“How?”
“He pushed me against the wall and lifted my dress up.”
Gravity spreads his legs apart, the sweat pants doing little to restrain his erection. “Who started it?”
“Tony, are you serious?”
“You want me to forgive you?”
I want him to take me to Unita. “He did.”
“Do to me what you did to him.”
If dolls blushed, I’d be fucking red. But long ago, I learned to control it with careful breaths. It’s all triggered into flight and fight response, and it can be trained out of you. “Tony, I was up against the wall.”
“Pretend the bed is the wall.”
Unable to take his constant gaze, I lower my eyes to the band of his pants. “He was wearing a belt buckle.”
He yanks my hand and shoves it down the elastic of his pants. My fingers fumble over his boxers.
He sucks the air in between his teeth. “Did he touch you?”
“Yes.” Tony slides a finger between my folds, checking my arousal, which he doesn’t find.
“Did he touch you first?”
“Yes.”
“What did he do to you?”
“He unzipped my dress and played with my breasts.”
“You liked that?” His fingers slide under my shirt. Cupping my breasts in his palm and massaging in circular motions.
“Yes.”
He pinched my nipples in short bursts until they were hard. “Did he do that?”
“Yes…” Because I loved the sensation.
My hands travel up to his chest, to hold him back, just in case.
He lowers his gaze to my hand. “Is that how you held on?
“No…”
He wedges himself between my legs, lifting my legs and helping them around his torso. “Like this.”
“Tony…”
; He brings himself down, cradling his stiff member between my thighs, his lips hovering above me. “What did he do next?”
“I went weak when he slid my panties to the side.”
“You don’t have panties on. Next.”
My cheeks flush as I remember Luca’s actions and recount them. “He ran the tip of his penis over my clit.”
He slams his hands down on the bed beside me, popping the rest of the scattered breakfast up and clanking the cups together. He doesn’t care. The liquid from the orange juice hits my shoulder, just as he repositions himself, so he’s hoisted up on his forearms and hovering over me. His nose inches away from mine.
His lips go down to my ear. “I want inside you so bad right now, but I’m so fucking pissed at the same time.”
“Then stop.” It’s a plea, but I have to evacuate the emotion from my voice. It’s hard to dull down the hurt—the shame that comes with humiliation. Sometimes, I have to remind myself, Dolls don’t feel.
“Did you tell him to stop before he screwed you?”
But dolls can shut their eyes. “No.”
“Did you watch in the mirror?”
“Yes.”
He hisses, “Fuck, Bella.” He throbs against my thigh, pressing his hips into me so I can gently spread my legs for him.
But I don’t. “Not like this, Tony.” Because I need him wound up for tonight, and denying him access excites him. Despite him not wanting resistance, the defiant Isabella has always appealed to him.
“You cheated on me. You don’t get to set the rules here.”
I shove him back with all the strength I have, but he doesn’t go far. He’s too strong to fight, so I have to outwit him. “I can if you want me to walk down that aisle.”
He eases up and leans back on his calves. “Are you threatening me?” A tight, strained laugh escapes him before he says, “I can’t fucking tell with you sometimes. You’re so… unvaried.”
“Unvaried?”
“Angry, sad, happy, excited… even last night… it’s all the fucking same sometimes. This shit has to stop when we get married. Because we are getting married.”
“Now who’s threatening who?”
“I don’t want a fucking doll, Isabella!”
