by Ash, Nikki
“I should have protected it.” A single drop of grief wells up in the corner of my eye. I’m so sick of crying but the blows keep coming one after the next. When will it stop?
“You were just under twelve weeks along. Your body knows how to protect itself. I know you are thinking this miscarriage was caused from you getting beat up, but you can’t know that. Miscarriages happen every day. It’s the body’s way of saying something isn’t right. There’s nothing you could’ve done differently.”
I know deep down miscarrying is for the best, especially given the circumstance, but it still hurts to know there was something precious inside of me. Even if created from rape, it was still a baby with a beating heart. I’m not sure if I would have been able to make the decision to abort the baby or if I was still with Weston, if he would have given me the choice one way or another, so maybe it was fate’s way of handling the situation for me.
She digs into her briefcase and pulls out a couple sanitary pads. “Mr. Valentino, please give us some more privacy, and can you please make sure Aria gets more sanitary pads as well as underwear? She will be bleeding for a few more days.”
Giovanni looks from the doctor to me, his eyes haunted. He nods in understanding, and after placing the waste basket outside, goes back to the sitting room. Once he’s gone, Dr. Fox helps me place a sanitary pad along the inside of the boxers Giovanni left out for me since I have no clothes.
“Let’s look at the rest of you.” She begins to feel across my torso, and I jump once she gets to the right side. “Take a deep breath for me.”
I breathe in and out, the pain in my stomach radiating through me. “That hurts,” I yelp when she hits a super sensitive area.
“It looks like you have a couple bruised ribs on your right side. Let me check to make sure they aren’t broken.” She walks over to a large suitcase and opens it up, pulling some weird looking machine out.
“What is that?” I question.
“A portable x-ray machine.” After she’s done setting it up, she has me lie still while she takes pictures. After assessing them, she says, “They aren’t broken which is encouraging. I don’t want to wrap them up because it can make breathing more difficult.” She grabs something from her briefcase and snaps it in half. “Keep this icepack on you.” Wrapping a small towel around it, she places it on my side, then tapes it on gently.
“It’s like you’re the doctor’s version of Mary Poppins,” I joke, trying to make light of this entire horrendous situation.
“Yes, I guess I am.” She laughs and I join in as well—the sound foreign to my ears—causing my ribs to ache in pain.
“Careful. I don’t want you to get up unless you must. I know you’re going to want to shower and you’ll need to use the bathroom, but make sure someone helps you.” Dr. Fox moves up the bed to look at my face. I can’t even imagine how bad I look. If my pain is any indication, I most likely look like a truck ran me over then reversed to do it all over again.
After running a cleaning wipe over my forehead and face, which stings like a bitch, Dr. Fox says, “This should have gotten stitches, but it’s too late. I’ll glue it the best I can.” She works on my face for a few minutes then gets up to throw the garbage away.
“I want to check your vaginal walls. I know you’re bleeding and normally I would wait, but I want to make sure nothing has been damaged. I did an image test while doing the ultrasound so I know there’s no internal damage, which is a good sign.”
After putting gloves on, she gently pushes my legs apart and begins to check me out. My vagina is extremely sore and I feel myself wincing at her touch. I had assumed the bleeding was from the rough sex I experienced a few days ago—it didn’t start until after Weston and his friends left me in the basement.
“Okay, everything seems normal. I didn’t feel any tears. I’ll check you again once you’re done bleeding.” She takes the gloves off and throws them away. She’s gone for a few minutes, during which time I hear the sink turn on. She must be washing her hands. Knowing we’re about done and she’s about to leave me, my hands begin to shake, my heartbeat going erratic. I feel another anxiety attack coming on. Dr. Fox walks back inside the room and starts putting her equipment into her suitcases.
“Dr. Fox, I know you’re prescribing a low dose of Xanax, but do you think maybe you can give me a little more?” My voice wavers as my heartbeat picks up speed.
She comes over next to me and, taking both my hands in hers, smiles softly. “You’ve been given drugs for quite some time, sweetie. You don’t want to be dependent on them. I am going to recommend you begin to see a psychiatrist as soon as possible. She can be someone for you to talk to, to work through what you’ve been through, and she can also put you on the appropriate medications and doses. I’ll let Mr. Valentino know of a couple I recommend. Ones who specialize in what you’ve been through.”
“Okay, but my heart hurts right now.” I try to grip my chest. I’m working myself up, but I can’t stop it once it starts. Everything that’s happened these last several months is weighing down on me. It’s like I’m drowning and can’t come up for air. With each breath I try to take, another weight is added, sinking me further down, suffocating me. I sit up, starting to freak out, beginning to hyperventilate, needing to take a breath. My hands clutch my chest, but it’s no use. The weights are too heavy. I can’t push them off. I can’t come up for air.
Dr. Fox’s soothing voice breaks through. “Breathe slowly, Aria. Copy me.” She takes a deep breath in, then lets it out, and I follow her lead, focusing on her breathing. We do this for a few minutes, slowly taking deep breaths in, then just as slowly breathing out, until my body begins to calm down, each weight being removed one by one, the heaviness slowly leaving my chest, allowing me to finally come up for air and take a much needed, calming breath.
“Good, there you go.” I continue to breathe slowly, copying her motions. Once my heart has slowed back to its normal pace, she opens a pill bottle. “You see. You calmed yourself down without taking a pill. We’re going to get you on the right dose, but until then, take one of these to help you get some rest.”
Giovanni walks over to Dr. Fox and begins to pick up the equipment, moving it to the side. “Just leave that machine here, so I can check her in a few days,” she instructs him. Then turning to me, she says, “Aria, if you need anything at all, you call me, okay?” She hands me her card.
“Thank you.” I lean over and give her a hug.
Giovanni and her both leave, closing the door behind them. Snuggling up into the sheets, my body starts to feel numb. It must be the pill she gave me to help me sleep. For the first time in a long time, I fall asleep without the fear of what I might wake up to.
Chapter Nine
GIOVANNI
Aria has been sleeping on and off the last few days. The sleeping pills, anti-anxiety meds, and painkillers Vivian left for her have helped tremendously to get her through the miscarriage and bruised ribs. I’ve been sleeping in the chaise lounge in the corner of the room because I couldn’t bring myself leave her. I’m almost positive my neck has a permanent kink in it, but leaving her to sleep somewhere more comfortable wasn’t an option. When Vivian informed Aria that she had miscarried, my heart broke for her. She can’t be more than twenty-one, maybe twenty-two years old, but she has experienced more loss than any young woman should ever have to. Loss of her mom. Loss of her life when she was taken. Loss of her baby. Shit, probably loss of her sanity. I placed a call to a psychiatrist who is willing to make house calls and have her scheduled to come out next week.
The first twenty-four hours on the low dose of the anti-anxiety drugs had Aria freaking out when she was awake. I watched Vivian bring her down from her potential anxiety attack when she was here, so when one started, I did what the doctor did and was shocked that it actually worked.
Aria asked for something to read, so I had Johnny go to the store and pick her up an iPad. I installed all the book apps and set up her account with one
of my credit cards. I’m not sure of the situation with Weston yet, but as far as I can tell, Aria doesn’t have any access to money. We haven’t talked about anything as I don’t want to overwhelm her with too much too soon. She’s been through enough as it is.
Knowing I just gave her a sleeping pill and it’ll keep her knocked out for at least a few hours, I shower and throw on a suit to check on the club. When I get to my office and begin going over the books, there’s a knock on my door. “Come in.”
Cecilia saunters in, her high heels clacking against the marble floor. “Nice of you to join society again. Does that mean whatever situation you had going on in your room is taken care of?”
Not liking the fact that she’s referring to Aria as a situation, my voice takes on a harsher tone than intended. “My situation isn’t any concern of yours. Her name is Aria and until I get things figured out, she will be staying here.”
“In your room?” Cecilia’s voice comes out in an annoying whine.
“Jealousy is not a good look on you.” I raise a brow, silently ending this conversation.
“Fine. Your mother has invited us to dinner later in the week. Shall we ride together?”
Shit. I received the text yesterday from my mom requesting we do a family dinner at her house. “I’m not sure if I’m going. Plan to drive yourself.” Cecilia huffs out in annoyance but doesn’t argue. “Close the door on your way out,” I say, dismissing her. She stomps out, slamming the door shut behind her.
A few minutes later, there’s another knock. This time it’s Rome. “Who peed in Cici’s cereal this morning?” Like most people who know Cecilia on a more personal level, Rome calls her by her nickname. I never gave into it, not wanting anything between us to ever get too personal. Rome has a seat in front of my desk, laughing at his own joke.
“She’s pissed because I have a woman in my room and she hasn’t met her.”
“Can you blame her?” Rome chuckles.
“Who I have in my room isn’t anybody’s fucking business.”
“But that’s just it. You never have anyone in your room. And while you and Cici aren’t technically exclusive, you sure as hell fuck her like you’re a couple. But even then, you never let her in your room. You have something more going on with Aria?”
“There’s nothing going on between Cecilia and me besides fucking, and as far as Aria goes, she’s nothing to me.” But even as I say those words, I feel the lie deep within me. I’m not sure what Aria is to me. Hell, I don’t even know her. But saying she’s nothing makes my chest ache. Something tells me, a woman like Aria could never be considered nothing. Fuck…I need to nip these thoughts in the bud.
“She was my payment from Weston Hightower.” I shrug nonchalantly.
“So, what? You own her?” Rome gives me a knowing smirk, which pisses me off.
“Are we done gossiping like women? I’m assuming you’re in here to go over something business related.”
Rome throws his head back with a laugh then quickly sobers. “Caesar and I have searched high and low for that pussy senator. It’s like he’s disappeared into thin air. Caesar had a couple of guys stake out his home and office, but nothing. I called his office and his secretary said he had to go out of town for business but wouldn’t tell me where he went. He never put his personal number on his file.”
“Motherfucker, I should have known his bitch-ass was going to run. I need to find out why he was holding Aria captive. Something’s not kosher. Weston could have hired any prostitute he wanted. Why would he hold her in a basement for almost a year with no intention of letting her go?”
“What the fuck?” Rome’s voice booms through the office. I’ve been so busy keeping an eye on Aria, I haven’t had time to catch him and the other guys up to speed.
“According to Aria, nine months and counting.”
“How is she not freaking the fuck out?” Rome shakes his head.
“Vivian has her on some sleeping pills and is keeping her on the Xanax she’s been on. When she first got here, she was begging for drugs. Luckily it seems the worst of it is behind her.”
“What are you going to do with her once she’s feeling better?”
“She’s mine,” I blurt out, a myriad of emotions hitting me with those two spoken words. First, regret for saying them out loud. Then confusion for realizing how badly I want them to be true. Frustration at the fact I can’t force her to be mine. Anxiousness when it hits me that once she’s healed, she’s going to leave. And lastly, determination, knowing I’m not going to let it happen.
“Giovanni… you can’t seriously be considering holding her captive.”
I dismiss his statement because that’s exactly what I will be doing if I try to keep her here and I’m not ready to deal with that reality.
I change the subject. “Anything else I should know about?”
“That stripper you lent the money to…”
“Ashley?”
“Yeah. She’s a week late on her payment. Want me to pay her a visit?”
Saw that shit coming. “No, I’ll do it myself. I told Don I’d handle it. Anything else?”
“Benjamin Fields will be arriving tonight to check out the club.”
“Call me when he gets here. I’ll handle his tour personally.” Benjamin and I go way back. He owns a few clubs in Vegas and we run in similar circles.
“You got it, Boss.”
After checking on a few more memberships and replying to several emails, I go back upstairs to check on Aria. Seeing her still sleeping, I go to the kitchen and ask Maggie, my head chef, to make us both lunch and have it delivered. Then I go to the stock room where the playroom toys are kept and find what I need.
* * *
“Good afternoon,” I say calmly as Aria attempts to stretch her arms over her head, lightly flinching when only one arm is able to stretch fully. She squints and blinks a few times before frowning as she looks up at the handcuffs—one handcuff attached to her wrist and the other attached to the thick wooden headboard.
“Good afternoon? What the fuck, Giovanni! Why am I attached to the goddamned headboard?”
“Well, since you’re feeling better, I can’t take the chance of you running, so I figured it was my best option to ensure you don’t try to.” Aria glares at me then tries to rip the handcuffs through the wood. “Please stop before you hurt your wrist. That wood is a good two inches thick. You aren’t breaking it.”
“So, what…you kidnapped me from my kidnapper?” Her furious glare disappears, fear taking its place.
“I wouldn’t call it kidnapping. Weston owed me a shit ton of money. It’s obvious you’re important to him, so I took you since he couldn’t pay up. Now you’re safe. You should be thanking me.”
“Are you fucking serious? I should be thanking you for saving me only to hold me captive? Do you even hear yourself? I’m not collateral. You can’t keep me here because he didn’t pay you!”
“Speaking of which, do you have any idea why he was keeping you in that basement?”
“No, all he said was once I turn twenty-two, he would be getting rid of me.” Hmm…interesting.
“How old are you?”
“I’ll be twenty-one April twenty-ninth.”
“All right. I have my guys trying to find him. Until we figure out why he needs you so badly, you will be safe here.”
Aria’s glare returns. “Un. Lock. Me.” The words come out of her mouth slowly and with such conviction, I have to hold back my grin. She’s cute as fuck when she’s mad. Like a pissed off cat with her claws out.
“Not happening.” I shrug. “For now, and until further notice, you’re mine. Once I know you won’t run, we can work on giving you more freedom.”
“I’m not yours, and can’t you just have one of your goons stand guard?” Not a bad idea. Why didn’t I think of that? Oh, yeah…because the idea of Aria trussed up in handcuffs had my dick twitching.
“I’ll think about it.”
She huffs out in
annoyance and this time I can’t hold back my grin.
“I’m glad you find this all so funny. Could you possibly help me to the shower today? I feel so gross. And maybe if you could get me some clean sheets, I can change them. Oh, wait! I’m locked up. You can change them,” she says dryly.
“I’ll have the housekeeper bring up the sheets and change them.” I text Donna, one of the housekeepers, and put in the request. “Why don’t I have one of the women help you shower and once you’re done, lunch should be here. I requested chicken noodle soup and deli sandwiches.”
“You sure you don’t want her to just give me a sponge bath right here in the bed? Then you can keep me locked up.” My dick perks up at her attitude, but I mentally tell it to stand down. Now is not the time to be thinking with the head below.
Texting Cecilia, I ask her to send up Natalie. She’s close in age to Aria and one of the sweetest women I know. After Celia asks why, I tell her to just do it. She and I are going to need to have a conversation soon. I text Rome and tell him he needs to stand guard outside Aria’s room to ensure she doesn’t run.
“I’m going to unlock your cuffs so you can shower. Rome will be standing guard, so it wouldn’t be wise to try to run.” Aria gives me another death glare, mumbling what sounds like swear words under her breath. There’s a soft knock on the door and when I open it, Natalie is waiting timidly on the other side.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Valentino. How may I help you?”
“Natalie, thank you for coming up. My guest, Aria, is in pain but needs to shower. Would you be willing to help her?” I hear Aria grumble something about not being a guest, which causes me to chuckle, only for her to shoot daggers at me in return, which has me laughing harder. Natalie eyes me, confused as to what is happening. That makes two of us, sweetheart.
