Finding Beauty in the Darkness
Page 2
“Where’s the fucking gun now? Get me the damn gun and the fucking belt!” I roar. Rome bolts out of the room. “Did you enjoy pushing metal fucking objects into my girl?” Weston doesn’t say anything, so I squeeze his throat tighter, pushing the barrel of the gun harder into his forehead. I can feel the hardness of his skull against the barrel of the gun, and it takes every ounce of restraint I have not to pull the trigger and blow this asshole’s brains out.
Weston shakes his head emphatically, his eyes wide with fear.
“I think you did enjoy it.”
Rome comes back into the room with the belt and gun. I remove my gun from his head and tuck it back into my waistband. I release my hand from the senator’s throat, and he inhales a huge gulp of air as he tries to catch his breath. Taking the belt from Rome, I wrap it around the senator’s throat, tightening it past the smallest hole. He begins gasping for a breath once again. Good! Now you’ll know what she felt like.
“Please, Giovanni. I’m sorry. Please, I won’t be that rough again.”
“It’s Mr. Valentino to you. You don’t get the right to use my first name you piece of shit. And damn right you won’t be that rough with her again because you aren’t welcome in my club anymore.”
Grabbing Weston’s gun from Rome, I push it up against Weston’s lips, forcing them apart. He tries to fight against me, but when I tighten my grip on the belt, his face goes pale and he has no choice but to open wide. Pushing the barrel of the gun down his throat, I begin to fuck his throat with the gun. He’s choking and gagging on the barrel, his face turning a light shade of grey.
“Does that feel good? Huh? How does it feel having a metal object shoved inside of you?” Weston’s head shakes and his body starts to convulse from the lack of air. A few more minutes and he’ll be dead. I hear one of my men clear his throat, and reluctantly, I let go of the belt. None of my men would dare tell me what to do, but they have my back, and they know killing the senator right now wouldn’t be in my best interest.
Shoving the gun down farther, I feel it bottom out as he gags and chokes. Then I move it out of his throat, and with the same gun he just deep throated, I point it right between his eyes.
“You are never to step foot in my club again, and our deal… consider it void effective immediately. You have thirty days to pay me back with interest. Don’t make me fucking hunt you down.” And unlike the idle threat I made to that stripper a little while ago, I will follow through on this one.
Dropping the gun and belt to the floor, I walk away from that piece of shit before I change my mind and end his life right here. “Get him off my property and get rid of his gun.” Just as I’m about to exit the room, I hear Weston take a deep breath of relief. I stop and turn back around.
“On second thought, undo those chains.” I nod toward the ceiling. Rome pulls the lever on the chains and the senator’s hands come flying down, still cuffed together. Taking the gun back from Rome, I grab ahold of his right hand. Jerking it toward the wall and splaying his hand out, I smash his fingers with the gun over and over again. He screams in agony as the bones shatter. “Next time you consider hurting a woman who has put her trust in you, remember these broken fingers are nothing compared to what I’ll do to you if I find out about it.”
I get to Natalie’s room and knock softly. “Come in,” I hear through the door. I walk in and see Natalie lying on the bed, the doctor sitting next to her, and Cecilia standing next to Natalie, holding her hand. Cecilia is like the madam of the club. Her entire job is to take care of the women and make sure they’re safe. She ensures they’re all on birth control and are tested regularly, as well as makes sure they are happy. Not a single woman is here against her will, and every one of the women are more than compensated for their services.
When my father first moved our family here, my mom was the madam of the bordello. When I took over the club ten years ago, she passed the torch to Cecilia.
I know my parents are hoping one day Cecilia and I will get married. Cecilia’s dad, Stefan Ricci, is as close to a brother as it gets for my father. My grandfather took him under his wing years ago, and it would give the family great pleasure to have us marry and make everyone legally related. A grandchild together would make us family by blood. While she’s a decent fuck, it’s not happening.
“How’s she doing, doc?” I direct my question at Vivian Fox, the on-call doctor for the mansion, but I give Natalie my full attention. I don’t like to see my girls hurt, especially by a piece of trash corrupt senator like Weston Hightower.
“She has some tearing in her vaginal walls but no internal bleeding. I’m giving her an antibiotic to be on the safe side because of what he put in her.”
I run my fingers over her neck where that asshole choked her. There’s a bright red ring around the entire length of her throat that’s already turning purple, the first hint of a bruise forming. “Does your throat hurt?” Natalie nods softly, tears filling her eyes. “I made sure he was punished, and he’ll never be back here again. Take a few days off and get some rest, okay?”
“Okay.” I can see the hurt and betrayal shining through in her eyes over the fact a man she cared about used his power and strength to hurt her.
“I want you to speak with Dr. Simone before you go back to work.” Gladius Simone is a therapist all the women see. According to my mom, a woman selling her body for money can make even the strongest crumble, so I make sure every woman who works for me sees the therapist. If she doesn’t feel they are in the right mind, they don’t work here.
I walk Vivian out and thank her for coming so quickly. I can see the disdain evident in her eyes—she wants to say something but the amount of money she gets paid keeps her from speaking her mind.
“I’ll make sure everyone knows Senator Hightower is forbidden to step foot on these grounds,” I say to Cecilia after the doctor leaves.
“Thank you, amore.” Cecilia gives me a kiss on my cheek, her hands run up my body, and her perky tits rub against my chest. She lingers a little too long, her wet lips remaining on my flesh, then she moves her mouth over to kiss my lips.
“Not out here, Cecilia.” She pouts but nods in understanding. She knows I don’t fuck around where everyone can see. I have a reputation to uphold. Touching and fucking stays behind closed doors.
Taking her hand in mine, I pull her into my office. It’s on the first floor, along with the restaurant, the bar, and the common area, as well as the private rooms. On this floor, there is also the staff kitchen. All the ladies, including Cecilia, sleep on the second floor. The east wing is for the women who work as escorts, and the west wing is for the rest of the staff. My living quarters are on the third floor by itself, and I never bring anybody to my room. Bedrooms are intimate, and nothing about what I do with Cecilia or any woman is meant to be intimate. It’s nothing more than a fuck, and whoever I’m with, especially Cecilia, needs to remember that.
Once we get to my office, I don’t bother to remove her clothes. She’s been getting too emotionally attached lately and needs to remember she’ll never be anything more than a fuck.
Pulling her dress up to her waist, I push her underwear to the side and stick two fingers inside her to make sure she’s wet. She quickly undoes my pants, pushing them to the ground, then she reaches into my briefs to pull my dick out.
Grabbing her by her hair, I turn her around and bend her over the edge of my desk, her face pressed against the wood, her ass up in the air. I rip open a condom, roll it over my hard length, then shove my cock into her cunt, fucking her relentlessly until we both find our release.
Once we’ve both come, I tuck myself back into my briefs and pull my pants up. Cecilia turns around with hearts in her eyes. At some point, I’m going to have to stop fucking her. She wants all types of shit I can’t give her. Shit I’m not willing to give her.
“I need to get back to work.” I open the door, making it clear it’s time for her to leave. Money doesn’t get made on its own after all.
ARIA
The room is dark and quiet. Even though I know at least one person is home, it’s calm. I try to stay relaxed, but it’s hard. It’s during quiet moments like now, my heart starts beating erratically and I know if I don’t get what I need soon, I’ll have a full-blown panic attack. You would think I’d welcome the quietness, but the problem with the quiet is, it’s like the calm before the storm. My brain goes into overdrive, wondering what will happen once the storm arrives. With each storm, I’m destroyed little by little, and one day the storm will be so strong, it’ll leave nothing but destruction in its wake.
Lying in my bed—which is nothing more than a mattress on the ground with a single sheet and pillow—with a worn-out copy of my favorite romance novel open, I try to focus on the words, but I can’t. My hands are shaking and my heart feels like it’s going to beat out of my chest. It’s been quiet for too long.
I read the same line three more times and give up, closing the book. I remember when I begged for the book, saying I needed something to do down here in the quiet isolation. He forced me to earn that book in ways I can’t bring myself to think about. Now I can’t even concentrate long enough to finish reading a book I have read dozens of times. At first, I lived in fear, my brain conjuring up the worst-case scenarios. Now that I’ve lived them, it’s hard to switch my brain off.
The drugs help. I know I’ve become addicted to them, but when it’s the only way to shut your body down, the addiction doesn’t matter. Survival is all I know now.
I hear the front door slam shut and know he’s home, and by the way he’s stomping around there’s a good chance he’s pissed about something. I close my eyes and pray he won’t come down here. There’s nothing he can give me that’s worth the consequences of him coming down here.
His assistant, Derek, is the only person I need. He gives me the drugs I crave to calm my nerves. He’ll make my hands stop shaking, my heart stop thumping, and my body and mind shut off. Derek gives. Weston, on the other hand, takes. He takes and takes from me, and at this point, I feel like I have nothing left to give.
The door creaks open and a bright light shines through. I quickly cover my eyes, unable to recall the last time I saw light other than through the small slats in the windows that give off just enough natural light for me to read my book. My world, which used to be a bright canvas, has been stripped of all color. The heavy footsteps make each step creak as a shadow makes its way down. When I see it’s Weston, my heart plummets.
Take.
He’s here to take.
Not give.
“Spread your fucking legs.” He stalks toward me. Then roughly grabbing ahold of my ankles, he pulls my body toward the edge of the bed, my head hitting the cement wall then getting dragged down.
“I-I need something.” It’s stupid to beg for what I need, knowing he doesn’t care, but I’m desperate. He only drugs me to make me stop screaming, stop fighting him. He prefers me almost comatose so he can do whatever he wants to me.
“You need to shut your fucking mouth!” He backhands me so hard I almost blackout. “I can’t wait until you turn twenty-two so I can get rid of your fucking whore ass!” Twenty-two seems to be the magic number. For what? I have no clue, and while I have no clue how long I’ve been down here, I imagine I have at least another year or so until I turn twenty-two.
I close my eyes and wish for the drugs he refused to give me. If he would’ve given them to me, I would be somewhat numb during this horrific nightmare.
Take.
Take.
Take.
Even without the drugs, I’ve trained myself to escape my mind during his torture. For several long moments, I’m free.
Free from the pain. Free from the darkness. Free from him.
Smack!
My escape has been short-lived. With one hard slap, I’m right back with him.
Weston is done with me, though. The essence of his crimes against me are smeared against my inner thighs, a sticky reminder that I’ll never fully escape.
He grabs my face and turns me to face him. He smacks me again across my face and then walks back up the stairs. Once the door is shut, I go to the small bathroom that’s down here to rinse off. I use a small amount of soap, unsure if Weston will replace it once it’s all gone. I’ve had the same bottle of soap since he kidnapped me and locked me down here.
Once I’m done rinsing off, I dry my body with the one towel I have. I don’t have any clothes, so I can’t get dressed. I take a few sips of the sink water to wet my parched throat then go back to bed. Closing my eyes, I try to imagine my future, what my life will be like if I make it out of here alive, only my visions are no longer clear. The longer I’m down here, the blurrier my future looks.
A little while later, the door opens again and I hold my breath, praying it’s Derek. Hearing the soft footsteps padding downward, I know it is, and for a short-lived moment, I allow myself to sigh in relief.
“Do you have something for me?”
Derek looks at me with sadness in his eyes. He’s never said it, but I don’t think he wants to be a part of Weston’s plans—that doesn’t stop him from carrying out the orders, though. I don’t necessarily blame him for what his boss is doing, but at the same time, he hasn’t stopped him or turned him in, either.
“I do.” He places the pills on the nightstand. There are five pills total. He usually brings me the pills twice a day, but this morning he didn’t come down, leaving me shaking and in need of the numbness—the escape I crave more and more each day.
“Anything else?” Sometimes Derek will bring me down some coke—not often enough, but when he does, I’m able to escape for a bit longer than I do with the pills. It kicks in quick—only a minute after I snort the white powder into my nostrils, I can feel myself floating away to a place where I’m no longer held prisoner.
“Not today.”
“Thank you, Derek.” I grab all the pills and swallow them dry. I have no idea what they are and I never question it. I know Weston isn’t going to give me something that’s going to kill me. At least not until I turn twenty-two that is. I imagine they’re Xanax or Oxy. I’m not sure, but they work. For a little while, my body and mind can escape the reality of this nightmare.
He leaves the room, and I stare at the ceiling, at the fan whirring around and around, until I finally fall asleep.
Chapter Three
GIOVANNI
I valet park my car and walk to the restaurant inside one of the hotels my family owns here in Vegas, immediately spotting my family at the back table that is permanently reserved for us.
“Oh, Giovanni, how is it we live in the same town, yet I feel like I never see you.” My mother, Claudia Valentino, is a beautiful Italian woman, especially for her age. With shoulder-length brown hair, dyed to keep her true age a mystery, steely matching brown eyes with thick fake lashes, and makeup drawn on to hide any flaw one would find to be natural at her age, my mom looks like a woman who has been bred from luxury. She hides her true story well.
She is also the most suffocating mother you will ever meet. She has taken the void from her marriage and used her three sons to fill it. Not a day goes by that I don’t receive several calls and messages from my mom attempting to meddle in my life.
Grabbing my biceps, she leans in and gives me a motherly kiss on my cheek then wipes off her lipstick. “I’m sorry, Mom. I’ve been busy with work.”
“That’s no excuse to go weeks without visiting your mother, Son.” My father pulls me in for a hug, patting me on my back before we sit down at the table. It is then, I notice there are three empty seats. “Who’s joining us?” I motion toward the empty chairs, annoyed. I don’t like surprises.
“Your brother, Cecilia, and Stefan.”
I groan on the inside. My mother does this shit every few months. Calls for a family lunch where she tries to play matchmaker with Cecilia and me. I’ve told her countless times it’s not happening, but she refus
es to listen. Typical Italian woman, stubborn as hell.
My brother Nico arrives next, followed by Cecilia and her father. After we all say hello, we order drinks and appetizers from the waiter. He looks scared and I don’t recognize him.
“New waiter?” I nod toward the man currently tripping over his own feet.
“Yes, but I’m not sure if he is going to work out. He’s the son of Giuseppe.” Giuseppe is a business associate of Dad’s, in Italy. His son must have moved here and needed a job.
“I hear the senator is giving you some issues,” Stefan says, getting straight to business. My mother frowns but doesn’t say a word.
“He hurt one of my girls, again. I’ll be collecting the debt he owes in full at the end of the month. I’m done doing business with him.” My blood starts to boil just thinking about what he did to Natalie a couple weeks ago.
“That’s understandable. Just make sure you keep it civil. With him running for another term as senator, we don’t want any trouble.”
“Understood,” I bite out too harshly, even to my own ears.
While my father is reckless, Stefan is levelheaded. He is always looking out for the organization’s best interests. My father trusts him with his life, and as a result, so does everyone in my family. Any time we aren’t sure what decision to make, we go to Stefan. His daughter, on the other hand, is the opposite of levelheaded. Cecilia is cutthroat when she wants something. She doesn’t think about the consequences of her actions. She’s so used to her dad cleaning up her messes, she knows nothing about ramifications of one’s actions in the real world. She comes across as pure and innocent in front of her father. All she has to do is bat her fake eyelashes and he does everything in his power to make sure she gets what she wants. If the man knew I was banging his daughter with no intention of putting a ring on her finger, he might not be so levelheaded.