Passion & Venom (Venom Trilogy Book 1)

by S Williams

  “Yes.”

  “What do you think of them?”

  “They’re…beautiful.” I cringe when I admit it.

  “I think so too. I have a whole garden of them. Maybe I’ll show you sometime soon…if you behave.” He flashes a crooked smile, bringing his head back up to search the area. “Where is my mother?”

  “She went to search for shells. She has a collection of them already.”

  “Ah.” He nods. “She does. A beautiful one too. You can find the best of anything here.”

  I pause before asking the next question, sinking my fingers into the hot sand. “Where…are we exactly?”

  His eyes bolt on me and a smirk spreads across his lips. “Now, why should I tell you?”

  “I’m just curious.”

  He looks me over thoroughly before turning his head and watching the waves crash in. The wind bristles by, pushing the loose strands of my hair away from my shoulders.

  I know he’s not going to answer that question so I take a different route. “How long are you going to punish Francesca?”

  He immediately turns to look down at me, and fear blooms in my belly when his nostrils flare. “However long I please, niñita. She knew the rules.”

  “So did I,” I state boldly.

  “So, what are you saying? That I should scratch this whole thing and treat you like I treat her?”

  “No, that’s not what I’m saying. I just…” I watch him tilt his head, ready for me to spit it out. “Never mind,” I mutter, dropping my line of sight to my lap.

  Draco lowers to a squat and then reaches forward to pick my head back up. When our eyes are glued, he drags in a breath before exhaling.

  “You test my patience, Gianna. You question my ways. What you should do is worry about yourself while you’re in my good graces. Don’t worry about Francesca. She’s a big girl. She can handle herself.”

  I nod. “Okay.”

  “Good, niñita.” He releases me and stands up straight. “Since I’ve given you this reward, I expect to see you in the galería after dinner.” I start to ask a question but he holds up a finger to stop me. My mouth clamps shut. “Don’t ask questions. Just be there. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Draco.”

  His eyes spark when his name rolls off my tongue. He holds my eyes longer than intended, his head cocking again. His mouth twitches to form words, but as expected, he says nothing.

  He simply turns around and walks towards his undeserved mansion. I watch him go before turning back around and staring ahead at the ocean. It seems to stretch so far, an endless supply of water.

  While no one is here, I could try and swim it, but I don’t think I’d make it very far. I’d end up getting tired arms and collecting lungs full of fluid before being found alive. The idea of it is scary, but at least if I’m dead in the ocean, he won’t be able to find my body.

  It would be deep in the abyss, sinking lower and lower from the weight of my heavy heart, never to be found again…I hope.

  I stand up and collect my things. As I fold my towel, my eyes venture over to the left and I see something flashing.

  I blink, zeroing in whatever it may be.

  It twinkles beneath the sun, fierce and bold. I step aside and spot a car. It’s silver, but I’m not sure what make or model it is. I look around. No one is here.

  Not his mom.

  Not even him.

  He’s most likely rinsing the sand off his toes right now.

  My heart thuds.

  The first thing that comes to mind is one word…

  FREEDOM.

  No one is watching. I am unguarded.

  Go, go, go!

  I have to make my move now.

  Run. Now!

  I scurry across the beach without a second thought. There is a wrought iron gate when I make it across. I examine my surroundings. The windows are clear. His mom is still on the hunt.

  Gripping the bars, I stick my foot on one of the bars and then climb up. When my hand wraps around the top of the gate, I swing my leg over, doing my best to avoid the sharp points.

  My heart thunders heavily as I drop both legs on the bars on the opposite side. I can’t believe I’m doing this. Why the hell am I doing this?!

  I hear men talking as I hop down to a crouch. They are speaking Spanish. I dip behind the nearest bush, watching as they go towards an all-black van parked in the driveway. They climb in and pull off immediately.

  I see them ride right through the open gates. The gates are open. That means freedom, and it also means their guard is down.

  When they’re gone, that’s when I look towards the silver car. It’s a Mercedes. I can hear the chiming, as if the keys are still in the ignition, but the car isn’t completely started.

  I move in closer, looking towards the front of the mansion. The front door is closed and no one is around. Why is the car like this? Someone must be making a quick run in and out.

  Well if that’s the case, they are most likely here to see Draco. That means he’s occupied right now. And that means this car…is mine.

  My pulse is chaotic, my body vibrating with paranoia and alacrity. I don’t know who’s watching, and I don’t give a fuck if they see me. I am getting the hell out of here. Now, while I have the chance.

  Before I can talk myself out of it, my bare feet pound into the gravel, storming for the vehicle.

  My breaths are thick and labored as I grip the door handle, yank it open, and clamber inside. The area is vacant as I scan the perimeter. All I can hear is my thundering heartbeat and my heavy breathing.

  I glance down and the keys are in the ignition, just as I assumed. I crank the Mercedes up and when the engine effortlessly comes to life, I put it in drive.

  Loud Bachata music blares out of the speakers and I gasp, extending my arm and turning it down. My nerves are on end as I turn the wheel while lowering the volume.

  “What the fuck?!” A loud voice booms those words from the doorway in Spanish and I whip my head over to the left, peering at the chubby man rushing down the steps.

  He has on a brown guayabera shirt with white stitching. The moustache shadowing his upper lip is thick and bushy, just like his eyebrows.

  He continues shouting obscenities at me as the tires squeal and I zoom for the gates. But as I get closer, the gates start to close.

  “No!” I scream. “No! No! Please!” Why are they closing? They were just open! I should have just made a run for it. I would have gotten much farther.

  I press my foot down on the pedal and the car amps up to thirty miles per hours. I hear the engine grow louder, but the gates are closing in more and more. The black iron is thicker than the gates on the land. This gate is humongous.

  But I don’t stop.

  I won’t stop.

  I press down on the gas some more, closer and closer, listening to the gates screech as the wheels of the car chase the pavement.

  But it’s too late.

  And I know it.

  I slam on the brakes at the last minute, hoping to spare myself, but it’s not enough to save me from the collision. Without the seatbelt to save me, my body launches forward and my face smashes into the windshield. I feel my nose crack and my mouth instantly gushes with hot blood.

  The horn blares on the car and I hear a man still shouting from a distance.

  My body crumples backwards, landing across the seats. My head is woozy; my face hurts. The car’s horn is so loud.

  I taste so much copper.

  I can’t move my face.

  The passenger door is yanked open and I realize that somehow I’m right beside it. I’m not sure how my body is positioned, but it doesn’t matter because in a matter of seconds, I am yanked out and a large hand closes around my throat.

  I gasp for air, but the thick hand clamps down tighter. My pulse grows louder as all of the sounds outside of me become inaudible.

  The man finally releases my throat and shoves me to the ground. “You stupid fucking bitc
h! You wrecked my fucking car! Look what the fuck you did!” he barks, “Look at it!” I just lie there, powerless.

  I have no fight within me. I hurt myself, but that’s nothing compared to what’s going to happen to me now.

  There is blood everywhere, pooling all around me.

  Footsteps stomp on the pavement and before I know it, someone is helping me up. When the person speaks and my hazy state clears up a bit, I realize it’s Draco.

  I have no idea why hearing his voice gives me so much relief. I tried to run away and he obviously knows it.

  I look up, but his eyes aren’t on me. They are on the man in front of him.

  He asks something in his native tongue and the man answers rapidly, pointing fingers at me. I hear him cursing, shouting.

  “Gianna,” Draco growls, squeezing my arm tighter. “What the fuck did you do?”

  My throat closes in on itself, demanding that I avoid the truth. I look at the chubby man, how he stands there, staring at me with squinty, angry eyes.

  He’s no good. He’s a piece of shit. They are all pieces of shit, but him? He looks like pure garbage.

  I want to lie so badly—it’s on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t. My knees buckle, and I press my fingers to my mouth, hoping it will stop the blood from pouring.

  Draco grunts and marches forward with my arm clamped in his large hand.

  “You’re paying for this fucking damage, Jefe!” the chubby man shouts after him. He follows us into the house and Draco drops me on the sofa when we enter the den.

  One of the maids gasps when she sees me, and Draco gives her a direct order.

  She complies, dashing away with a quick glance back at me.

  “Jefe!” The chubby man rounds the corner, speaking rapidly in their language. “The damage! That’s a seventy thousand dollar car, son!”

  “I am not your son,” Draco seethes, stepping forward and getting face to face with him. “I see your fucking car, Morales! I see what the fuck she did!”

  “Then you have to pay! She is your bitch!”

  Draco turns completely and pulls out a gun from the holder on the back of his belt, aiming it at Morales’ face. Morales tosses his hands in the air almost immediately, backing away.

  He stumbles sideways, hitting the table in the corner and knocking the lamp over.

  Draco doesn’t give a damn. He still has the gun positioned, ready to take fire. His jaw is tight, his finger wrapped snug around the trigger.

  “I was trying to be patient with you, but if you disrespect me under my fucking roof again, I’ll show you who my bitch is,” he says lowly. Evenly. His accent smooth. “She is my fucking guest so if anyone has the right to call her names, it will be me. Do you fucking understand that?” He says all this in Spanish.

  “Yes, Draco. Yes. Just…put the gun down, Jefe. It will not happen again.” He drops his hands, motioning for Draco to lower the gun.

  Nostrils flared, Draco holds his position—his gun still aimed high, right at the center of Morales’s forehead. When the maid walks back in with an icepack and a first aid box, he finally lowers the gun.

  I watch all of this from the sofa, sprawled out, motionless. But there’s something about this situation that delights me…but I know my delight won’t last for long.

  “I’ll send you money for your car tomorrow. Find Bain and have him drop you back off at your home.” Draco places his gun back in the holder and then turns around to look at me.

  “Okay, Jefe.” Morales walks out, on the hunt for Bain.

  I crack a smile—just enough.

  Draco notices my amusement and narrows his eyes.

  “Is this fucking funny to you?” he snarls, stepping closer and gripping my chin between his fingers. “Look at your fucking face! Your lip is fucking busted! Your nose, broken!” He brings his hand up and clamps his fingers around the bridge of my nose.

  “OW! STOP!” I cry out and fling my arms, trying to force him away, but he hardly flinches. He has my nose gripped tight between his fingers, forcing it into place. The cracking and popping sounds much worse than when it went out of place. He squeezes it tight, and I scream even louder until he finally lets up.

  He jerks away, and I cup my face, glaring up at him.

  He looks down at the maid who is taking out cotton swabs, a needle, and some thread. She rubs my nose with the swabs, ridding it of the blood. Then she picks up a wipe to clean my mouth off. Whatever she uses burns. When I get a whiff of it, I realize it’s alcohol.

  “You could have fucking died.” Draco stands up tall, brows stitched, his gaze heavy on me.

  “What is it going to be now?” I croak, peering up at him. “No dinner tonight? No more beach? Or will you make Francesca suck my nipples and play with my hair at the same time?”

  Livid, he stomps forward, pushing the maid out of the way and snatching me up. He has my upper arms tight in his hands, that tight jaw even tighter, his eyes blazing with fury.

  “You want me to fucking kill you, don’t you?”

  “I don’t care what you do to me anymore.”

  His eyes run all over my face, flashing with what I know is desire. He likes when I talk like this. He hates disobedience, but when I talk back, it triggers something inside him. Twisted, sick fuck.

  “Well that’s just too fucking bad,” he grumbles. “I’m not going to kill you. If living here is enough to make you want to die, you’re already suffering enough.”

  He shoves me back down on the sofa and I land with a heavy oomph.

  The maid picks back up where she started, as if nothing even happened.

  “This changes nothing. Be at dinner and in the galería afterwards.” He storms away without another word.

  I watch him go, and then my gaze travels down to the maid. She merely shakes her head, picking up a cotton swab and swiping my upper lip with it. She’s probably thinking I’m the dumbest bitch alive right now, and she’s probably right.

  But at least I tried to get out of this hellhole.

  I could have gotten away with it too if that fat ass slob hadn’t shown up. Why the hell was he here anyway?

  But furthermore, why hasn’t Draco punished me firsthand for this? What the hell is he waiting for? And why do I care?

  None of Draco’s men show up for dinner. It’s only his mother, Francesca, him, and me. Francesca has gotten her spot back beside him, and I couldn’t give a shit less. She’s way too happy about it.

  She eats with her head held high, smiling at Draco whenever he says something in Spanish to his mother.

  He hasn’t spoken a lick of English since we started eating. He’s doing it on purpose. He’s trying to make me feel excluded. I honestly don’t care. If he’s caught on to me by now, he knows I understand everything they’re saying. He’s just trying to make Francesca feel special tonight—make me look like a discarded toy for now.

  His mom has been glancing at me every so often. She’s worried. I guess I can understand why. After having to get my upper lip stitched without anything to numb it (and trust me, it hurt like a bitch), I went up to take a shower. Before I got into the shower, I stared at my reflection.

  The stitches are right beneath my shattered nose. Draco put it back into place perfectly. I can barely tell there’s been damage. It took nearly thirty minutes for it to stop bleeding though.

  I don’t look completely hideous—I still look like me—minus the stitches and the huge bruise on my forehead. I’ve covered that bruise with my hair, though.

  After dinner is wrapped up, Draco commands me to follow him. Francesca watches us go, sulking in her seat. I don’t understand her. Shouldn’t she know by now that I’m not enjoying any of this?

  “I don’t want to go,” I call after him, trailing behind.

  He glances over his shoulder. When he sees that I’ve stopped, he comes back with measured steps, walks behind me, and presses his fingertips into my upper back, lightly booting me forward.

  “Shut up and keep walking,�
� he demands from behind me.

  I scuffle ahead, giving him a sideways glance. It’s quiet between us again. Unease sweeps through me when we meet up to the door. I know what this galería means.

  This is his inside dungeon.

  This is where he destroys his toys.

  His pets, rather.

  He casually strolls in and steps aside, allowing me to walk ahead of him. When I’ve stepped in enough, he shuts the door and then walks around me, focused on one of the paintings on the wall.

  “I have to say, Gianna,” he sighs, unbuttoning his blue shirt. I swallow thickly as he slides out of it. “I’m very disappointed in your behavior today.” When the shirt hits the floor, his hard muscles ripple smoothly from the dim lights.

  And when he turns around to face me, I finally get the chance to see what’s beneath the layers.

  His body is toned and cut. His skin looks smooth to the touch, hard in all the right places. It seems he works out to keep in such great shape, but when the hell does he have the time?

  He comes to me, his actions fluid beneath the dim lighting. When he’s up close, he grips the front of my button-up red blouse and yanks it apart roughly. The buttons fly across the floor, and when my shirt flies open I throw my hands up to cover myself.

  He yanks my arms down just as quickly as I brought them up.

  “I gave you flowers and a day at the beach. I let you sit alone, hoping I could trust you not to do anything stupid. Because I know you are not a stupid girl, Gianna.”

  I avoid his eyes as he walks around me, studying my cleavage when he’s in front of me again. Reaching around, he unlatches the bra, and I feel his breath run down the bend of my neck.

  I can smell his cologne again. It smells expensive…and good. Ugh.

  When the nude bra falls down, something inside me also collapses. Not this again. God, what will he do now?

  “You’re wondering what’s in store…” His lips skim the shell of my ear. “How I will punish you for being so goddamn disobedient.” His hand wraps around my wrist and he hauls me into him.

  “Why don’t you just kill me?” I ask. “You said it would be easier to just get rid of me rather than take care of me. I’m a burden to you. Get it over with already. End it,” I demand through clenched teeth.