Torn

by Natasha Knight

“You don’t like Joseph Gallo.”

  “No. He’s as slithery as a snake.”

  “Why does Sebastian trust him?”

  “He doesn’t.”

  “But why did he have me…why did we go there to sign that ridiculous book?”

  “Things have to be done a certain way with the Willow Girl. There are rules.”

  “Rules?”

  “Everything is connected. Linked to the inheritance.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  I scratch my head, try to understand. I have so many questions, but he’s not going to answer them.

  The lights of Venice proper come into view fifteen minutes later. The city is still buzzing this late at night and Gregory slows the boat as we approach one of the ancient buildings on the Grand Canal.

  He pulls up expertly to the stairs that disappear into the water. Tall gates stand open and when the two formally dressed men holding lanterns recognize Gregory, they smile and welcome him.

  He hands the keys over to one of the men and climbs off.

  “Be careful, stairs can be slippery,” he says, holding out his hand.

  I look at it. The palm is up, offered to me.

  I meet his gaze and, after a moment, I put my hand in his, and he helps me out, and I know the instant we’re inside that they only allowed us in because they know Gregory because we’re the only two dressed like we are.

  The casino is larger inside than it appears on the outside and this isn’t like anything I’ve seen before.

  Soft music plays in the background and waiters walk around dressed like the two outside carrying trays of drinks to the elegantly dressed men and women at the tables.

  I see Joseph Gallo at the same time Gregory does. He’s at a poker table where a group has gathered to watch the game. He gives Gregory a nod of greeting, meets my gaze for an instant then steps aside to let us see Sebastian.

  Sebastian’s wearing a tuxedo. It’s stretched so tight over the thick muscles of his arms that I wonder how it contains him, how the stitches don’t rip right apart.

  He’s engrossed in the game and in his hand is a tumbler of whiskey. From here I can see the half-empty bottle beside him as he signals for the dealer to give him another card.

  Gallo heads toward us, whispers in Gregory’s ear.

  Gregory asks a question in Italian, and after Gallo answers, he hands him a key card. Gregory takes my arm and we walk to Sebastian.

  I don’t play poker but from the burst of angry talk that erupts from Sebastian when another player lays down his cards, I know he just lost.

  Gregory puts a hand on Sebastian’s shoulder.

  “Brother,” he says.

  Sebastian turns around but before he sees Gregory, his eyes land on me.

  He’s surprised, then pleased, then, when his gaze falls to where Gregory is holding onto me, angry.

  “Helena.” His voice is husky, and he half stands but has to grab the edge of the table to steady himself.

  Gregory puts pressure on his shoulder and Sebastian winces, sucks in a breath.

  I remember the bandage I saw on his arm when I first woke. I never asked him about it.

  “My brother’s done here,” Gregory tells the dealer.

  “I’m not done,” Sebastian says to the dealer, but his eyes are locked on me.

  Gregory ignores him, releases me to collect the chips still on the table.

  “Let’s go,” Gregory says.

  “I said I’m not done,” Sebastian says, this time, turning to face Gregory as he rises to his full height.

  Unsteady as he is, he’s something to see. The two of them together, nose to nose, are something to see.

  I take a step back and Gregory must have the instincts of a cheetah because he reaches out to grab hold of me again.

  Sebastian’s instincts are dulled by the alcohol, but he follows the movement with his eyes, then drags them back to meet Gregory’s and for a moment, I’m sure there will be a fight. A battle between these two Goliaths.

  Gregory must know this though, because he pulls me forward.

  “Take her,” he says.

  Sebastian almost grunts, and when the pressure of Gregory’s hand is removed from my left arm, Sebastian’s replaces it on my right. His eyes, though, never leave his brother’s.

  Gregory takes the key out of his pocket and looks at both sides.

  “Which floor?” he asks, walking ahead of us to the elevator and pushing the button to call it before the attendant has a chance to.

  “Why don’t we take him back to the island?” I ask as the elevator doors open and I see our reflection in the mirror mounted on the back wall, me, small and out of place between them, these tall and broad and beautiful men with their chiseled jaws and dark hair and darker eyes.

  The aggression coming off them is so palpable, it almost crackles.

  “Because I don’t want to fish my drunk brother out of the canal, do I, brother?” he asks, leaning into Sebastian’s face.

  “Fuck you, Greg,” Sebastian says.

  Gregory shakes his head and turns to the man smiling awkwardly inside the elevator. “Get the fuck out,” he says, practically tugging the man out. “We can push our own fucking button,” he mutters this part under his breath. “Floor?” he asks Sebastian.

  “Four.” Sebastian turns to look at me when we get in, then turns back to his brother. “What are you doing here?” he asks. “Why is she here?”

  “You didn’t want me to leave her alone on the island, remember?”

  “I don’t need a babysitter—” I start.

  “Why are you here?” Sebastian asks Gregory again.

  “Because Gallo mentioned things had gotten out of hand.”

  “Gallo can go fuck himself.”

  “What did he do?” I ask Gregory.

  “I’m right here,” Sebastian says, leaning in close. “You ask me. Not him.”

  I look up at Sebastian. “You’re hurting my arm.”

  He shifts his gaze to it, nods, releases me.

  “What did you do?” I ask him.

  The doors open and Sebastian stalks off muttering something.

  We follow him and watch as he searches his pockets for what I assume is his key.

  “He started a fight. The other guy was removed only because they know us here.”

  “A fight? Why?”

  “Because this night fucks with him.”

  Gregory shoves ahead of Sebastian and slides the key card into the slot on the door. The lock clicks, and a light flashes green. He opens the door and we enter.

  Sebastian immediately takes off the jacket of his tuxedo and tosses it on the bed. He removes the bow tie and undoes the top buttons and those at his wrists, then pulls the shirt off over his head. He rubs the spot on his arm that Gregory was squeezing, rotates his shoulder once, twice. I have a closer look and see the dozen or so angry looking stitches.

  “What happened?” I reach out to touch one.

  He looks at me. “Nothing.”

  He walks away, goes into the bathroom. I hear water go on.

  “What happened?” I ask Gregory.

  “The night you were taken, Lucinda shot him.”

  “What?”

  “He’s fine. We need to deal with this right now.”

  Gregory picks up the phone, orders coffee sent up to the room.

  I walk toward the bathroom, but Sebastian comes out before I go in after him. He’s wiping his face with a towel he discards a moment later.

  He stops to look me over and looks a little more sober, although still not sober enough.

  I look back at him, and he’s different tonight. Like he’s chasing away some demon and I’m not sure he’s winning.

  Before I can speak, he turns to Gregory, stalks toward him. “Why did you bring her here?”

  “I already answered that.”

  “Did you tell her too?”

  Gregory doesn’t look at me and for a
moment, I wonder if he’ll tell Sebastian that I was in the mausoleum or if he’ll keep that secret. And I realize I’m a little afraid that he will tell because tonight isn’t the night I want to deal with an angry Sebastian.

  A knock on the door saves us, though, and Gregory shoves past Sebastian to open it. He signs the check and takes the tray of silver service coffee.

  Sebastian sits on one of the two armchairs and takes the coffee Gregory gives him. He looks at me as he drinks, and I sink to a seat on the edge of the bed. I decline the coffee Gregory offers me.

  “You can go,” he tells Gregory, never taking his eyes from me, setting his empty cup down moments later.

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Sebastian shifts his gaze to his brother, then, after a long, calculated minute, back to me.

  “Come here, Helena.”

  I get up, go to him. He spreads his knees and points for me to stand between them.

  “Get undressed.”

  My heartbeat picks up and I look back to Gregory, who’s leaning against the wall, watching. His arms are folded across his chest and his gaze is intense on his brother.

  “No,” I say to Sebastian. “Not in front of your brother.”

  “My brother wants his own Willow Girl. Did you know that?”

  He leans back, tilting the chair a little.

  “And he’s got his eye on mine.”

  I glance back at Gregory who hasn’t moved.

  “Now get undressed,” Sebastian says.

  I turn back to him. “Sebastian—”

  He slaps the flat of his hand on the table, making me and the coffee cup jump.

  “Now, Helena!”

  I look back once more as my hands tremble toward the hem of my sweater.

  “Eyes on me. You don’t need to look at him.”

  I swallow and do as he says. I pull my sweater over my head.

  Sebastian nods and I toss it on the floor and slip off my shoes as I undo my jeans. I push them down and step out and set them aside too so I’m standing in black bra and matching panties.

  “I don’t think—”

  “You’re not here to think. Off. Everything off.”

  It takes two tries when I reach back to undo my bra and I just glimpse Gregory’s reflection in the window. He still hasn’t moved. He’s watching. He wants to watch.

  Sebastian is right. Gregory wants his own Willow Girl.

  He wants me.

  I hook two fingers into the waistband of my panties and slide them down and step out of them.

  Sebastian nods in approval. He lets his gaze roam over me. It stops at my pussy and he reaches out a hand, touches the smooth skin.

  “I like this.”

  He grips my hips and draws me closer, lifts one leg, puts my foot on his thigh and dips his head in to lick the seam of my sex. A long, slow, calculated show of ownership that makes my breath hitch.

  “You’re wet,” he says, leaning back. “I think having my brother watch makes you wet.”

  I feel heat flush my face as Sebastian rises to his feet and grips my hips. He looks down at me and I see the want in his eyes.

  I reach out my hands, touch them to his chest, then up to his face. When I get on tiptoe to kiss him, he takes a handful of hair and begins to wind it around his fist. He forces my head backward, so I can’t kiss him, but I have to look at him.

  “Do you want him?” he asks.

  I search his eyes, give a quick shake of my head.

  He chuckles. “Liar.”

  He spins me around and moves us two steps, bends me over, keeping hold of my hips.

  I reach out to grip the edge of the bed as he slaps my inner thighs. I widen my legs and hear him unzip his jeans and I look up at Gregory and his eyes have gone black and he’s watching us.

  “Yeah. Like that,” Sebastian says. “Look at him while I fuck you.”

  I pull away, but he catches me, and forces me back into position.

  “Stop,” I try.

  He grips my hair and tugs my head back, making me look at Gregory. I feel the fingers of his other hand open me.

  “You’re dripping, Helena.”

  I reach back, grab his forearm, try to pry him off, but he pushes me forward, forces my face into the bed and slides his cock into me.

  My body stretches for him, but that first instant, it always takes my breath away and I let out a small sound.

  He lets go of my hair and his big hands close over my hips, spreading me wider. I look back at him, and he drags his gaze to mine as he pulls out, then thrusts, the force making me grunt, and I can’t look away from him when he does it again, then again.

  I feel a tear slide from my eye, over the bridge of my nose and drop onto the bed.

  Sebastian sees it too and he stops, pulls out, turns me over onto my back. He tugs me to the edge of the bed, pushes into me, and I wrap my legs around him. He leans down over me, taking my arms wide, holding them like that, his face an inch from mine.

  I raise my head, kiss him. It’s a soft kiss, this first one, but the next one is deeper, and I feel him move inside me, slow and deep and he stops kissing me to turn me over again, this time on my elbows and knees on the bed and when he hooks a finger inside my ass, all I can do is feel.

  I lay my cheek down and blink softly and my mouth opens as I try to suck in air and Gregory is still watching us. He’s watching, and his eyes are black and his jaw is tight. His erection pushes against his pants and I arch my back and push against Sebastian, rising up a little, readying myself to be fucked, really fucked.

  Wanting it.

  Wanting it like this.

  Sebastian curls his finger and grips me from the inside and with his other hand, he’s holding me in place and fucking me hard, punishing me with each thrust, punishing me for being aroused. For wanting this.

  For wanting to come while his brother watches.

  And when I do, it’s ecstasy and I close my eyes and feel Sebastian behind me, inside me, and he swells, and his thrusts come short and hard until he stills, and his cock is pumping inside me, emptying inside me and I want more of him, all of him, I need him to fill me up and keep me like this.

  I need him to keep me.

  9

  Sebastian

  I watch my brother walk out and listen to the door click closed behind him.

  Helena rolls onto her side, shifts her gaze from the door to me.

  “That was cruel.”

  I look at her. “Letting him watch us fuck was cruel? He’ll get off on it.”

  I slide my gaze over her before going into the bathroom to switch on the shower.

  “Come here, Helena.”

  She obeys. She’s sweet when she’s obedient.

  I open the shower door. It’s large enough for two and I step in behind her. She closes her eyes, dips her head under the flow. I drag my gaze away to pick up the washcloth and bodywash.

  She’s so beautiful, sleek and wet, slender, but not soft, lean with muscle. She doesn’t protest when I begin to wash her, the fucking and the water sobering me a little.

  Thing is, on this day, it’s hard to get drunk and harder to stay drunk.

  The bruises Lucinda left have all but faded, only a few still tender, yellowing spots remaining.

  “Almost ready for new marks?” she asks sarcastically when I turn her to face me.

  “I won’t do what she did to you. I won’t hurt you like that. You know that.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me about today?”

  I duck my head under the water and she takes the washcloth from me, starts at my shoulders.

  “Why didn’t you tell me about this?” she asks, her fingers gentle on the stitches that need to come out soon.

  “You weren’t exactly chatty when you first came around, remember?”

  “You mean after you kept me sedated for two weeks?”

  I turn to her, set the cloth aside, take her arms. “I’m tired, Helena.”

  Water sprays against her
face as she studies me, gives a nod.

  I switch off the taps and grab a towel, wrap her in it before drying myself off and wrapping one around my hips.

  She takes a second one and rubs a little of the moisture out of her hair.

  “Tell me about today,” she says once we get into the bedroom.

  I pull back the covers on the bed and she climbs in. I follow and switch out the lights.

  “What did my brother tell you?”

  “That it’s your birthday.”

  She pauses, and I wait.

  Because I know that’s not all.

  “I know you had a twin brother. I know he died. And I know about your mother.”

  I snort, roll onto my back and stare up at the ceiling. A speedboat races by and someone shouts outside.

  “He didn’t leave anything out, did he?”

  “It’s my fault. I went to the mausoleum.”

  I turn to find her watching me, her face in shadows, her eyes glistening.

  “I’m sorry you’re hurting, Sebastian.”

  I turn back to the ceiling. “Not sorry you broke a rule?”

  “Are you going to punish me?”

  “No.”

  It’s quiet for a long time but neither of us are sleeping.

  “The church refused to hold mass for her. Suicide.”

  “Do you believe in God?”

  “I used to. Now, I believe in ghosts.”

  “Is that why you didn’t want to be inside the church that day we went to Joseph Gallo’s office?”

  “Yeah.” I turn to her again, brush my fingers across her cheek. “I don’t have many memories of her, more a feeling. She was kind and gentle and loving. She was the opposite of everything we are. In a way, she didn’t belong in our family, with my father. She wasn’t ever going to make it. Too soft.”

  I think about Helena now. She’s soft too.

  “She sounds wonderful.”

  “She was.” I turn on my side, collect her to me. It’s quiet again and I close my eyes.

  “Sebastian?” she asks when I think we’re finished. “Your brother. Where did he go?”

  “Why do you care about him?”

  “I’m just worried.”

  “Don’t be. He’s fine. He needs to learn his place.”

  “He came here to help you.”

  “He brought you here to fuck with me. To fuck with you.”