by J. L. Beck
There’s a bedside table, a minimalist piece, with a stainless-steel lamp on it.
Beside it, an alarm clock blinks red numbers back at me. Four a.m.
The memory of the night before breaks up the headache. Images flicker through my mind. Me sitting on Nicolo’s lap. The stupid red dress, which as I look down at myself, I realize I’m still wearing. Him threatening me after he fucking sold me.
He fucking sold me. Disgust churns low in my gut. The bastard actually did it. That’s the only thing sticking out in my mind right now. His angry face looming over mine, his cruel words, his eyes saying goodbye.
I sit up, dragging air into my lungs, panic creeping in. I can’t believe he fucking sold me. I look around the room, wondering where the hell I am. Is this my buyer’s home? I listen, focusing the best I can around the raging heartbeat pounding in my ears. Nothing. Silence surrounds me. There isn’t a single sound to break up the noise.
Gingerly, I push off the bed. My bare feet sink into a shaggy rug. When I can stand upright, I wobble toward the doorway.
Stepping out of the room, I find there is a lamp on a side table near a long black leather couch. There’s art on the wall above it, a big flat screen opposite, and a balcony beyond. I’m so high up, I can see the tips of skyscrapers lighting up the dark in the distance. Knowing how high up I am, there is no escaping from a window. My only option is the door.
I head toward it, past a large kitchen and another doorway. My fingers shake as I grasp the knob in my hand. One twist is all it takes to discover it’s locked. Someone locked me inside this house.
But who? When I try to remember, it just spurs the headache on, the damn thing raking its claws through my brain.
I turn back to the room and scan the décor again. If I can’t find a way out, maybe I can find a weapon. My eyes touch on the block of knives sitting on the countertop. I rush into the kitchen and whip out the biggest one I can get my hands on. Whoever’s holding me captive is an idiotic man. With the knife heavy in my hand, I walk back into the living room. Having a weapon makes me feel better, but I need to know more about who purchased me.
From the living room, I head back into the bedroom, flicking on the light as I go. Looking around the room, I locate a closet tucked in the far side of the room. I cross the space and throw the doors open. The inside is stuffed with men’s clothing, all in shades of black and gray. There is everything from jeans to suits, giving me no distinct variation of who this man might really be. I feel like a hamster on a wheel, going nowhere.
I drop my gaze to the floor with defeat, and that’s when I see it—a scrap of champagne silk. I grab the end that’s showing and pull it out from underneath a pair of dirty boots. With the fabric in my hands, I stare at it. The memories swarm me. The night Nicolo took me, sitting on a mattress in the basement, wearing this, and Lucas, Nic’s brother, walking out with it clutched in his huge fist.
Lucas. Again, the memories rush back in, and I recall him coming into the room at the auction. Him knocking me out after saying he’s my… what? His words are a haze.
My knees give out from pure exhaustion, and I sink to the plush carpet of the walk-in closet. A spicy scent permeates the space—like a deodorant or a cologne, not laundry soap. I don’t remember smelling it before, but then again, I didn’t consider Lucas like I did Nicolo. Whenever Nicolo walked into a room, all my focus shifted to him. Prey waiting to be torn apart by the stronger predator.
I don’t know how long I sit staring down at the silk fabric, but it’s long enough that my legs ache from the awkward angle. I notice the knife sitting beside me on the carpet, and I don’t even remember dropping it.
A heavy metallic thud, followed by a sharp clicking noise, drags me back to the present. I grab the blade and scramble underneath the pile of clothes, using them to hide behind. The sound had definitely been the lock, right? Or maybe I’m going crazy.
My heartbeat thunders in my ears, and the pain biting around the back of my skull intensifies as I struggle to quiet my breathing.
Footsteps crunch on the carpet as they come into the room. There is a pause, and I hold my breath as he opens what I assume is the bathroom door before moving oto the closet door.
The light flicks on, illuminating the small space, and I can’t hold my breath anymore, so I release it slowly, carefully, modulated. It doesn’t matter, though.
“I know you’re in here, Celia. Now get your ass out here, because I don’t feel like chasing you down. I have food, water, and clothing for you.”
It’s the last one that drives me to step out of my hiding spot. I peek out from between his suits. Lucas stands before me, dressed in black from head to toe. My memory wasn’t warped. He really kidnapped me, but the question remains… why?
“Give me the clothes and let me change, and I’ll come out.”
He rolls his eyes and tosses something on the floor. I snatch up the pile, watching him like a snake that could strike at any given time. When he shuts the door to the bedroom, I crawl out from my hiding spot and look at what he brought.
A pair of black leggings, underwear, and an oversized T-shirt sit inside a plastic bag. If I wasn’t so mad and confused, I would probably rejoice about this new wardrobe. It’s my first official set of clothing since being kidnapped.
I quickly put the clothes on, tossing the dress in the back of the closet, and exit, knife in hand along my thigh.
Lucas is in the kitchen, pulling white Chinese food containers from a paper bag. A spicy scent reaches my nostrils, and my stomach lets out a loud rumble.
“Hungry?” Lucas asks like he didn’t just hear my stomach and points to a stool on the other side of the counter.
I take the seat, but he doesn’t do anything but stare at me. His expression deadpan, his eyes narrowing on me.
“What?”
He extends his hand out to me. “Knife. Then you can have this chicken and rice.”
To give up my weapon is a trap, and I clutch the knife tighter, but my stomach betrays me further, rumbling in protest. With a sigh, I slam the knife down on the countertop and hold out my empty hand for the food box.
Lucas shakes his head and returns the knife to the block on the opposite counter. I watch him warily as he places a box in front of me, a pair of wooden chopsticks on top. Before he can change his mind, I snap the box up, rip open the top, and dig into the food—spicy chicken on a bed of white rice. The heat of the chicken pairs perfectly with the rice, and I have to keep my groan of appreciation locked down tight.
He leans against the opposite counter and digs into his own food. We eat in silence, which I’m thankful for. Once I polish off my food, he crosses the counter and slides an enormous bottle of water toward me. Again, I pounce on it and guzzle a huge amount of the liquid down just in case he tries to take it away.
No longer concerned with food, and a little sleepy, I study him. He looks like Nic in the eyes, but the rest of his features are different. His hair is much lighter, a sort of dirty blond. I think if it wasn’t for his tattoo-covered skin and permanent frown, he would actually look a lot younger.
“Well, I’m here. Should I thank you for saving me from whatever fresh hell my buyer had in store? Or did you bring me here for your own perverse needs?”
His brows pull together, and his nose wrinkles in disgust. “I saved you for myself.”
Ew. Not that he isn’t a handsome man, but no way. He and I had never really hit it off back at the house. I can’t imagine sex would help matters. Not that the Diavolo bastards ever consider giving me a choice in something.
“If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather die than sleep with you.”
I slide off the chair and back away from him, determined to fight this time. When I let Nicolo touch me and didn’t fight, it felt different. Right here and now, all I feel is anger and pain. Nothing like the searing heat Nicolo somehow elicits from my body.
When his eyes narrow at me, his chopsticks halfway to his lips, I scramble
to explain. “I know I might have thrown myself at you the other day, offered myself, but it was more about saving my skin from being sold than wanting to sleep with you.” I backtrack a little, trying to maintain the peace.
If I’ve learned anything about Lucas, it’s that he’s a ticking time bomb waiting to detonate. “Not that you don’t have your charms or anything. I just think we wouldn’t be compatible. I’m sure there are plenty of women out there who would love to join your bed, but I’m just not in a great place after your fucking brother’s handling. I can’t even imagine sex with anyone, let alone you.”
His disgust turns palpable as he drops his food into the sink, container, chopsticks, and all. “Did I do some damage when I knocked you on your little head?” He pauses. “I didn’t bring you here to fuck you, Celia. I brought you here to talk to you. To get some answers without my brother breathing down my fucking neck.”
Jesus Christ. My relief is a physical thing lying across my skin in a soothing veil. “Oh. Okay, well, I can answer questions, sure.”
Lucas gives me a questioning look. “You don’t remember what I told you when I retrieved you from the warehouse?”
So, we’re using the word ‘retrieved’ not kidnapped? Is that how Nicolo justifies his actions, too? These fucking men and their need to knock me out and transport me places against my will.
I narrow my eyes at him. “Some of it, maybe?” Thinking back now, I remember him speaking, but not exactly what he said.
He braces his big hands on the counter, tattoos etched on his knuckles. One hand says ‘love,’ the other says ‘hate.’ Charming. “I told you I was your fucking brother.”
The world stops spinning, the floor falls beneath my feet, and it comes back to me now. Bit by bit, the pieces of my memory float down and back into place. The pulsing migraine I woke up with finally makes sense.
“You hit me.”
“Is that any way to talk to your brother?” His words echo through my head.
No… the weight of his confession knocks the wind from my lungs.
“I didn’t think you’d stay still while we escaped. I couldn’t risk you drawing anyone’s attention and getting us caught,” he continues talking, but it’s like his voice is far away now.
Brother. I blink, letting my mind digest what he’s saying.
“You can’t be my brother. You’re lying. This is about control. You want to hurt me, just like your brother did. There is no way we are related.” I take another step away from him.
“Trust me, I didn’t want to believe it either, but we are. I have proof. We are one-hundred percent blood-related.”
My knees give out, and I sink to the floor in a heap. Brother.
Oh. My. Fucking. God. I cover my face with my hands to slow my sudden need to drag in more air. Holy fuck. No.
I glance up at Lucas. His brows are drawn down as he studies me. It looks like he… Well, he cares, which is strange since I’ve never seen him show a shred of compassion toward anyone.
“Are you all right?”
“If you’re my…” I bring my fingers to my mouth again, trying to re-order my thoughts into a sequence that makes sense. “If you’re my brother, then… Nicolo?” I whisper his name. Even saying it now feels wrong, forbidden.
Catching on, he shakes his head heavily, a smile playing on his lips. “While I enjoy seeing your panic and fear, I won’t get answers out of you if I drive you down a road like that. So, I’ll just be honest. No, you’re not related to Nic.”
Something eases inside me, letting me go, until I slump forward against the countertop of his kitchen, my forehead pressed to the surface.
“Don’t tell me I hit you too hard?” He speaks more to himself than me as he walks around the counter to loom over me. “I need you to answer some questions before you decide to check out.”
I sit back up and then lumber to my feet just because I don’t like him there staring down at me like that. “No, I’m fine. Just relieved is all. Your brother didn’t care about using me for whatever he wanted.” I don’t bother keeping the bite from my tone.
He steps forward, crowding me. “Let’s be clear. While I don’t want to have sex with you, I have no problem carving you up to get the information I need. Blood might relate us, but we are not family. I’ll kill you the same way I would kill any of my enemies.”
I snort and retreat to the couch, sitting down at the very end. Lucas simply stares at me like he is waiting for a retort from me.
“What? Do you want me to refute that? My sister was my only family as far as I’m concerned.”
Thankfully, he doesn’t join me, only studies me, his arms crossed over his chest, making him appear even bigger in the already small space. “And your father?”
“What about him? He never really cared much about us since we were both girls and pretty much useless to him… other than marrying us off.”
It’s not the answer he wants. His brow furrows further, and he stares off over my shoulder.
“Just ask your questions, so I can get out of here.”
He turns his gaze back to mine.
“Please?” I add, hoping it will buy me points.
When his eyes narrow again, I know it hasn’t. But he doesn’t speak. Instead, he goes back around the counter and digs into his food. Awesome. As talkative as his brother. These Diavolo men have brooding silences on lock.
While he eats, I consider his words. My brother. But how? He couldn’t be more than a few years away from me in age. My parents tried for more children after me but never succeeded as far as I knew.
“How do you know? That you’re my brother? In what way are we related? I mean, do we have the same father or mother?” I rattle off all my questions, daring to interrupt his meal for the sake of answers.
He finishes chewing and eyes me over his food container. “I took your slip the day Nic brought you to the house. I got your DNA tested with mine and with Nic’s. You are only related to me, and since we were born the same year, it has to be on our father’s side.”
“So, who’s our father, though?” The possibility of my father not being my actual father has actual hope blooming in my chest. It would explain so much, and it would be a lie to say I wouldn’t be relieved.
“The man you grew up with is our biological father.”
“How do you know?”
“I just do,” he growls, making it clear he doesn’t want to elaborate more on the subject.
“So, my father had an affair with your mother?”
His snort tells me what he thinks of that theory. “Sorry to disappoint you, but our father isn’t just an asshole. He’s also a rapist. He raped my mother, and she got pregnant with me.”
The horror must be plain on my face because he laughs darkly and shovels more rice into his mouth.
“No, what… How?” My father is many things, and not all of them good I’m learning the longer I’m away from him, but a rapist? “How do you know?”
He narrows his eyes at me now. “Because my mother loved my father, and she wouldn’t have cheated on him, especially not with a man like Ricci.”
His using my family name jolts me. I close my eyes and try to compose myself.
“I think that’s why he killed her. She wanted to reveal the truth. I didn’t understand it at the time, but now everything makes sense. He called me a bastard son once in anger. My mother wanted everyone to know what he did, and that’s what got my family slaughtered.”
His words slowly sink into my brain. It takes me a few moments to make sense of it all, to wrap my head around it. Lucas is my half-brother. Why would he lie to me? He’s kidnapped me and has me under his control. He doesn’t need to lie to me to compound his ownership.
I have a brother, and my father is a rapist. Great, another fact I need to deal with. Another fact I can focus on once I’ve gained my freedom. “What do you want from me? Are you still dead set on revenge? You don’t think your brother has handled that enough?”
He looks me right in the eyes. The darkness in his is terrifying, but I don’t dare look away. The words roll off his tongue smoothly.
“I don’t want revenge from you anymore, Celia. Now, I only want answers.”
3
Nic
While Soo is very good at his job, he can’t seem to find a record of Lucas’s movements leading up to the auction. Which seems impossible since my fucking brother has never made any effort to shield his life from me before.
Why would he do this? The only answer that comes to mind is revenge. Me getting revenge against Ricci isn’t enough for him; he wants his own taste. And maybe he thinks Celia can give him that or offer him a way to hit Ricci even harder.
I spin away from Soo’s bank of computers and grab a liquor bottle from his bar. Not even bothering with a glass, I tip the bottle against my lips and take a long draft of the amber liquid.
“That’s unsanitary,” Soo says, still typing away at his computers.
For half a second, I savor what it would look like to throw the bottle against the screens, watch all that glass shatter and break on the floor. I’m not a man who loses control like this. I pride myself on control, but it seems Celia brings the worst out in me.
Even now, I want her body under my hands to both hold and destroy. To show her this rage eating me up from the inside out.
Soo works some magic on the screen and pulls up some maps. I replace the bottle and cross the room to stand behind his chair. “What am I looking at?”
On the screen is a smattering of red dots all over the city, in almost every corner. Soo points to the warehouse on the map and then the mansion. “Usually, Lucas’s movements center around our main hubs. Even when we are busy and have to go out for shipments, he always ends up back at one of these two places. But this time, it’s like he knows I’m tracking his phone, and he’s purposefully made a pretty little map that shows us fuck all.”
