She reached into the drawer attached to the vanity and handed me a chocolate granola bar. “Here. We can’t have you running around looking like some strung out junkie. Hurry up and eat it before Anthony comes back to escort you to meet Dante.”
I tore open the package and sunk my teeth into the bar, the chocolate and oat goodness filling my mouth. “Thank you,” I said between bites.
My stomach rumbled with each bite I took, reminding me I had to slow down, or I would vomit the entire thing on Dante. And I couldn’t have that happen. Not when it was clear I might need him to survive. Dante had to like me to stay with Lucky and her girls.
Angelo’s older brother Pete always reminded him to know his place and play his part. That was what I did in Atlantic City. Following Pete’s rules was the only way I would survive this nightmare.
After I dressed and Lucky finished my makeover, Anthony returned to the room. “Is she ready? The boss is tired of waiting.”
Lucky dragged me over to him by the hand. “Raven is all yours. Let’s hope this one gets to stay. I like her.”
I swallowed the bile rising from my stomach and glanced at Lucky for help. There was nothing she could do to save me. Dressed in a navy-and-white plaid skirt that stopped above my ass cheeks and a G-string that rode up my crack, I felt self-conscious. The only man who ever saw me like this was Angelo. In a black, lacy bra that pushed my boobs up so high they were practically touching my chin, I wanted to run and hide.
Anthony hooked his arm through mine and guided me out of the room. I glanced over my shoulder at Lucky, holding out a sliver of hope she would come to my rescue. She offered me a tiny smile and a wave.
“The boss is going to like you, Raven,” Anthony said, my new name which sounded weird coming from him.
I had faith in Angelo.
I had hoped I’d make it through this long enough to see his face again.
He would come.
My white knight always rescued me.
But would he save me in time?
Chapter Ten
Angelo
My father taught me how to swim in the shallow end of the pool at the YMCA. I was maybe four or five years old, still in need of the orange armbands I wore around my tiny biceps. But one day, my dad decided it was time for me to learn for real. He said men didn’t need a life preserver to stay afloat, and that a man who was worthy would float to the top.
It was one of the few days my mother hadn’t accompanied us to the outdoor pool, leaving my brothers and me with the old man. Pete was around ten years old, Marco was eight, and I was a little runt who still latched onto his mother’s leg. Dad didn’t see any of us as children. We were always men put on this earth to serve him. Morelli men didn’t have weaknesses, only strengths. That was how my father was raised, and he passed down his father’s beliefs to his sons.
Pete jumped into the pool first, followed by Marco. They were splashing each other in the face with water, already fighting over something. Even back then, Pete was a dick. He put Marco into a chokehold and dunked him under the water, forcing him to kick and beg until Pete let him up. My dad smirked, never smiled. A look of pride scrolled across his wicked face as he watched my brothers.
I was waiting for my dad to put my swimmies on my arms when he leaned down and whispered, “It’s time for you to act like a big boy, Angelo.” He placed his palm on my back and inched me closer to the pool. “You’re my namesake, make me proud.”
Then, he pushed me into the shallow end without knowing how to swim on my own. I sunk almost to the bottom, my mouth open and full of water by the time I reached the surface. I was choking on the water, hardly able to breathe. My lungs were tight, and my body numb from overexertion. I screamed for Marco and Pete to help me.
Pete laughed, crossing his arms over his chest. Marco moved closer to me with his hand outstretched. But my dad ordered my brothers to leave me alone, told them I had to become a man. I was too short to touch the ground, my arms not long enough to make a proper stroke.
Gasping for air, I reached for the edge of the pool, feeling out in front of me for anything for support.
“Be a man,” my father said, standing over me at the edge of the pool.
My father had taught me so many life lessons I hated him for at the time. He was showing me how to become a Morelli. The old man was sick and demented, but he was teaching me invaluable life lessons. No one could show me how to be the man I’d become, not the way my father had.
With my fingers threaded through Sal’s dark curls, I shoved him onto the plank in the kill room with a gun to his head. Sonny strapped down his legs, and I worked on his arms and head, fastening Sal to the wooden board so he couldn’t move an inch.
Sal peeked up at me with fear in his eyes. “I didn’t hurt her. I promise. It wasn’t me.”
I ignored his comment and reached for the gallon of water on the table behind me. Sonny stood off to the side next to my brothers. Pete looked as though he wanted to join me. He wanted to be the one to make this man suffer. But we’d made a deal. Dom and his men were my kills. Their blood would be on my hands.
I tipped the bottle in my hand, dumping water in Sal’s mouth and down his nose. He fought me, his body thrashing and begging to rip free from his shackles.
“Tell me who took Gia,” I yelled, easing up for a second.
A beat passed where Sal coughed on the water, choking on it. “I don’t know. I would tell you if I did.”
I repeated the same process as before. This asshole would tell me what I wanted, or he would drown to death. It was his choice. All I cared about was information. The truth was Sal was a dead man no matter what. Dom and his crew were traitors. Our family had to tie up loose ends.
“Not good enough,” I spat back, this time tipping the bottle over so it was like a flood taking Sal under.
When I was younger, I’d seen this done on TV dozens of times in crime movies. Pete even showed me proper waterboarding techniques not long after I’d learned of the kill room. I knew this place so well I knew the scent of blood, bleach, and death anywhere. It was a familiar smell that no one should have known by heart. But the abandoned warehouse where we tortured our victims was becoming like my second home. The more time I spent around Pete and Marco, the more I learned every method of torture possible.
Pete loved the thrill of the kill, the high better than sex for him. Like me, Marco saw torture as a means to an end, though I would have been lying to myself if I didn’t admit I enjoyed a just kill like this one. Our guys set us up the night I went to Vitale’s. Not long after that night, Gia had disappeared along with Sonny. There were too many coincidences and not enough explanations to make sense of them.
Pete cupped his hand on my shoulder. “That’s enough for now.”
When Pete issued an order, I had to follow it. He wasn’t only my older brother, he was a caporegime, the captain who led our crew and reported back to my father. His orders were mine to follow. Pete was allowing me to hunt down every last person responsible for Gia’s kidnapping. But I had to know my place, respect the hierarchy of our organization.
I wanted to argue. Pete had made me a promise. Instead of fighting with him, I nodded and handed over the bottle. Sal choked on the water in his mouth and nose, struggling for air. He was a rat who deserved what was coming to him. Without Gia, I was becoming more like Pete every day. My heart had grown so cold I wasn’t sure I could feel anything other than hate and anger.
Pete moved his hand from my shoulder and stepped forward, hovering over Sal. “First, let’s start with where the fuck is Dom before I shove this bottle down your throat.”
“He’s working with Enzo,” Sal choked out.
Pete drizzled some of the water on Sal’s forehead and smiled as it ran down his nose and into his eyes. “Where the fuck is Enzo?”
Sal shut his eyes and sobbed. “At a safe house in North Jersey.”
“Where?” Pete growled.
“I can take you there,” he sho
t back.
“No, tell me where. You don’t leave this table until then. Dead or alive, I don’t care.”
Pete was bluffing. There was no way he would kill Sal without tracking down a lead to Enzo. The man was responsible for turning several members of our crew, as well as others in the organization. And for all we knew, he took Gia, or at the very least had a hand in her disappearance.
Chapter Eleven
Gia
Not until Anthony peeled back the curtain and pushed me onto the stage did the gravity of the situation hit me. I was being fed to the lions. A raging crowd of men, as far as I could see, gathered around the stage and tables of the club. Angelo’s family owned a strip club. There was no mistaking the neon lights, poles bolted into the ceiling, and mirrored walls that reflected everything in the large, open room.
No other girls were in sight, the men here to see me. I was the main attraction. The lights were too bright, forcing me to hold my arm up to my face so I could see. My mouth widened in shock when my eyes landed on the man seated at center stage, right in front of me.
“Let the bidding begin,” a man said from the back of the room.
A man who I’d assumed was Dante moved through the throng, the men around him parting for him like the Red Sea. He was handsome, almost too good looking to be real, in a tailored suit that fit his muscular frame perfectly.
He stopped at the edge of the stage, and Anthony pushed me forward, almost forcing me over the edge. “Do you know who I am?”
“Dante DiSalvo,” I muttered.
He held out his hand for me to take, and I did as he instructed. “Smart girl.” His fingers brushed my skin, leaving an uncomfortable sting in their wake. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”
He knew who I was. Why else was I here? What a stupid question. But I decided to play along.
“Raven,” I said without hesitation.
As long as I had to endure the DiSalvo family, I would never use my real name. Knowing I didn’t have to use it made me less disgusted about some of the things I was about to do.
“Are you ready to dance for us?”
I took a second to think over his question. “Do you want the truth?”
He looked amused, the corner of his mouth turning up into a smirk. “Sure.”
“I want to go home.”
Dante tightened his grip on my hand. “You are home.” His smoldering gaze pierced through me. “I own you… for now.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Because I can.” His face was devoid of any emotion.
Even Angelo wasn’t this far gone. He still had some semblance of the boy I once knew inside him. At least he was capable of love and compassion, even if he could only show it to his mother and me.
Holding onto my wrist, Dante hopped up onto the stage next to me. He moved into me, forcing me to take a few steps back until I ran into what felt like a brick wall. I glanced up and saw a set of deep brown irises, olive skin, and dark, wavy hair. If they weren’t the coldest, most ruthless men I’d ever met, Dante and Anthony would be a girl’s wet dream. Instead, they were my nightmare.
Anthony wrapped his strong arms around my stomach and slid his big hands up to my breasts. The look in Dante’s eyes as his goon defiled me set my skin on fire. He liked watching this man touch me.
“You’re such a dirty little whore,” Dante whispered against the shell of my ear, as he pushed the lace bra to the side and twisted my nipple between his fingers. “You didn’t even put up a fight.”
“As if I have a choice,” I spat back. “I either do what you want, or you will kill me.”
“That’s up to you to decide.” Dante’s voice was so distant and harsh. “I’m sure that pretty pussy of yours has got to be worth something.” He looked at Anthony. “I wonder if she tastes as good as she looks?” He slid his finger down my bare stomach with a wicked smirk.
“Only one way to find out, Boss.” Anthony breathed on the side of my face, still keeping me in place.
Dante was the perfect name for a man who had the face of an angel and reminded me of the Devil. I was taken from one circle of hell and thrown into another, all for the purpose of pleasing rich men with too much money, power, and time on their hands.
With a simple nod, Dante communicated with Anthony, who took his good old time removing his hands from my body. Both men stepped off the stage, leaving me there alone. At least a hundred pairs of eyes stared back at me. Nervous energy shot through me, rocking my system with a violent force. Under pressure, I would crumble. I couldn’t think with the lights in my eyes and the men watching me.
“Let’s go, honey,” a man yelled out to me. “Shake that ass for us.”
Dante raised his hand to silence the man in the crowd. That was all it took for everyone in the room to fall in line and await Dante’s next order.
I cowered under Dante’s intense gaze. He locked onto me and licked his lips. “You must be hot. Take something off. I’m growing tired of you in so much clothing. I need to see what I’m getting in return.”
Return for what?
I was so confused, but I didn’t want to argue and piss Dante off. Anthony sat next to Dante, in a chair in the front row, with his cell phone pointed at me.
“Take off your bra,” Dante ordered.
I reached up to slide my fingers under the straps, turning my head to the side, my hands shaking. No one had ever seen me naked but Angelo. And maybe Sonny. There was a few times when Sonny had walked in on me having sex with Angelo, though I wasn’t sure how much of me he’d seen.
Men who held numbered cards on sticks in their hands surrounded me. They were there to bid on me. I was no man’s property, not even Angelo’s, and yet the boss of Atlantic City somehow owned me. Or, at least, he thought he could own me. No matter what I had to do to survive, I would make it out of there—dead or alive.
I didn’t care one way or the other, as long as I was able to keep my sanity intact. But I had to do this one thing. There was no getting out of stripping for these men. Biting my bottom lip, I kept my eyes on no one in particular and pushed my bra straps down my shoulders. Degrading didn’t even begin to cover it. More like mortified, scarred for life.
Dante moved his hand to his thigh, his focus fixed on me. “Take it off. Now!”
He was losing his patience with me. I reached a hand behind me to unhook the clasp, the silky fabric falling to the floor at my feet. Eye contact proved to be too much for me. With all the whistles and howls, I couldn’t face the men who were yelling for me to keep going.
“Dance for us, Raven,” Dante said, tapping his fingers on his thigh.
Music was already on in the background, though the buzzing in my head and the sounds of men screaming my new name dulled it out. A new song blared through the overhead speakers, piercing my eardrums. I was too tired, hungry, and scared to process the name of the song. It sounded familiar, a rock beat I’d heard before, but I couldn’t place it.
I moved my hips back and forth, biting back the tears that welled in my bottom lids. Much like the rest of my body, my nipples had been sore for days, and with my breasts jiggling for these men, the pain only intensified.
“Look at me,” Dante said, and I did as he asked, continuing to slowly move to the beat. “Smile for the camera, Raven.” Again, I followed his command, and he rewarded me with another shit-eating smirk. “The skirt,” he said, pointing at me. “Take it off.”
I sucked in a deep breath, telling myself I could do this. It was just clothes, just skin. They could have my body, but they would never have my heart or my mind. No one could take the place of Angelo. No man would ever hold my heart in his hand and have the power to crush it. Each thump in my chest was for the only man I’d ever loved.
I pushed the skirt over my hips, allowing it to drop to the floor around my ankles. Then, I lifted my feet to kick it to the side. Bared to these men, with nothing left but the black G-string covering my pussy, I waited for my next instruction. I only ha
d one piece of clothing left. Would he let me keep it?
He tipped his head to the pole next to me as if telling me to dance on it. I had no idea how to work a pole. Without any strength, I wasn’t sure I could twirl around it, let alone climb up it. The metal bar was cold between my fingers, sending a chill through me.
Anthony moved his arm, the camera still clutched in his hand, following my every move.
“Send it,” Dante said to him. “Let’s see how much trouble she’s worth.”
Chapter Twelve
Angelo
After almost drowning to death, Sal told Pete where Enzo was hiding. We were on our way to the safe house in North Jersey, about five minutes from the location when Pete broke the silence in the car.
He turned in the passenger seat to look at me, pinning me down with his menacing gaze. “No matter what, keep your shit together. Dead men don’t talk. We’ll never get your girl back if you go around popping people. Got it?”
I crossed my arms over my chest and blew out a puff of air. “Yeah, I got it, bro. I don’t need a lecture from you every day.”
“I wouldn’t have to give one if you’d listen. You don’t see me telling Sonny and Marco how to act every fucking day. There’s no place for feelings in this business, Angelo. Even if we find Gia dead in a fucking ditch, you can’t retaliate. To win a war, you need a plan. You have to be smart, think with your head and not your heart.”
“The last time I checked, I’m the lawyer in this family. I’m the one who should be advising you, Pete.”
“No way will you ever be my consigliere when you can’t focus and keep your head in the game.”
“Good thing I’m working for Pop and not you,” I shot back.
“If anything happens to the old man, I will be the boss. You will still take orders from me. Nothing will change. Don’t like it? You know the way out, baby bro.”
The Ultimate Sin (Sins of the Past Duet Book 2) Page 5
