by Leigh, T. K.
COPYRIGHT AND LICENSE INFORMATION
INFERNO- PART TWO
Copyright © 2018 T. K. Leigh / Tracy Kellam
All rights reserved.
2018 Edition
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes. If you are reading this book and you have not purchased it or won it in an author/publisher contest, this book has been pirated. Please delete and support the author by purchasing the ebook from one of its many distributors.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental or, if an actual place, are used fictitiously. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
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Published by
Carpe Per Diem, Inc. / Tracy Kellam,
25852 McBean Parkway # 806,
Santa Clarita, CA 91355
Edited by: Kim Young, Kim’s Editing Services
Quotes from The Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri, Rev. H.F. Cary translation (1814).
Cover Design: Dana Leah, Designs by Dana
Cover Image Copyright kiuikson 2018
Used under license from Shutterstock.com
Print layout & eBook Design: Deena Rae, E-BookBuilders
Table of Contents
Dedication
Part Two Smoke
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Playlist
Acknowledgements
Books by T. K. Leigh
About The Author
Inferno
A stolen glance across a darkened restaurant. A kiss under the Italian moon. A proposition I never would have made in my former life. Our story began just like all fairy tales do…once upon a time.
Once upon a time, a mysterious, passionate man opened my eyes to things I’d been blind to, my heart to feelings I never thought imaginable, my mind to endless possibilities.
Once upon a time, I experienced something I didn’t think existed in real life.
Once upon a time, I learned how to fly.
Little did I know it was with broken wings. Ones that were irreparable after a lifetime of being caged.
How can I love a man who would lie to me so recklessly? How can I give him my heart when experience tells me to keep it guarded? How can we have a future when he’s still tormented by his past?
The Bible teaches us that “Love is patient. Love is kind.”
Now I know that love is a farce, a sham, the two of us merely players in its cruel pantomime. For ours isn’t a love story with a happy ending. Ours is a tragic love. The kind of love that leaves a permanent scar on your heart. The kind of love you never get over.
The kind of love that defies all logic.
Dedication
To Fate…
Inferno
Part Two
Part Two
Smoke
As each thing to more perfection grows,
It feels more sensibly both good and pain.
—Dante Alighieri,
The Divine Comedy
Inferno, Canto VI
Chapter One
Breathe, I told myself as I struggled for air, feeling as if the walls were closing in on me. Time seemed to stop, yet the ticking of the modern grandfather clock still echoed in the large space. Blinking, frozen in place, I watched the pendulum swing back and forth, over and over, reiterating the old adage that “time waits for no one”. Time marches on. Time is fleeting. Once upon a time…
Once upon a time, I met a man. He opened my eyes to things I’d been blind to, opened my heart to feelings I never thought possible, opened my mind to ideas I’d been ignorant of. Once upon a time, I felt something I didn’t think existed in real life. I offered him my heart, albeit guardedly, knowing it was probably too good to be true.
Once upon a time, this man used me… I think.
The truth was, I didn’t know what to think as I stared into my ex-fiancé’s cold, hard eyes. As I tried to figure out which way was up, the last few days replayed in my mind… Running out on my wedding to Brock. Hopping on a plane to Rome. Finding myself intrigued by the handsome stranger named Dante sitting across the aisle from me. Our paths crossing again at the restaurant he owned, unbeknownst to me. Propositioning him for a night of passion. Our one night of passion turning into several. Brock somehow tracking me down and now standing in front of me in Dante’s apartment, telling me they were brothers.
I searched my brain, hoping to find some clue, any clue, that this was just another one of Brock’s lies. I didn’t want to believe him, but I had doubts about Dante’s intentions from the very beginning.
“Oh, you didn’t know?” Brock’s condescending voice cut through my thoughts as he placed the copy of Dante’s book he’d been holding back on the side table. I’d never noticed it sitting there before. Probably because I didn’t exactly spend much time in the living areas of this apartment. The thought sickened me even more.
I returned my eyes to Brock’s, subtly shaking my head, my motions barely noticeable. A feverish chill suddenly enveloped me and I wrapped my arms around my stomach, trying to warm myself.
My gaze floated back and forth between Brock and the photo of Dante on the cover of his book. Bile rose in my throat, nauseated by this turn of events. How could I not see it before? He’d seemed familiar from the beginning, but I thought it was because of his celebrity status. Now I knew that wasn’t the only reason. While Dante was infinitely more muscular and had a darker complexion, the eyes were unmistakable…dark, deep, unforgiving. They both had their father’s eyes.
“And here I thought you simply did it to get back at me,” Brock continued when I remained silent.
I hugged myself even tighter, a sour taste in my mouth as I dropped my chin to my chest, ashamed. All I could think of was how I’d willingly given that man, that fraud, my body. How he’d done things to me no respectable person would do. How it was all an act.
A thousand questions fought for attention in my mind as my limbs grew weak, a thickness forming in my throat, in my chest, in my heart. I struggled to reconcile the Dante who’d gazed at me with more admiration and devotion than anyone in my life with the idea of a Dante who simply slept with me for some ulterior purpose. What could that be? Sibling rivalry? Dante mentioned his father abandoned him and his mother. Did he only pursue me because he held a grudge against Brock for having everything he never did? That didn’t seem right. Dante had done extremely well for himself, better than Brock or the rest of that family. Dante Luciano was a household name around the world. Brock and James Harrison were only known in political circles.
“Come now, Ellie…” Brock stepped toward me, the crazed look in his eyes softening. Still shocked by this unexpected news, I remained paralyzed,
unable to move. He wrapped me in a tight embrace. It didn’t feel loving, warm, or caring, unlike Dante’s. It was possessive, and not in an endearing way. It was forceful, resolute, like a captor ensuring his captive, his property, his chattel couldn’t escape. “We all make mistakes. I’m an understanding man. I’m willing to overlook this momentary lapse of judgment.”
The arms crushing me making my skin burn, I pushed out of his smothering hold, my brain finally firing again.
“Momentary lapse of judgment?” Incredulous, my voice rose in pitch as I straightened my spine. “If memory serves, I left you because you’re fucking your secretary. If anyone’s guilty of a lapse of judgment, it’s you, Brock.”
His expression hardened, the vein in his neck throbbing. “That’s completely irrelevant, Ellie,” he spat. “Do you have any idea how embarrassed I was when you so conveniently didn’t show up at our wedding?” He clenched his fists, his eyes untamed as he stalked toward me. I backed up, desperate to keep my distance. “People are still talking about it! Footage has been played constantly on the national news! It’s gotten over ten million hits on YouTube!” Nostrils flaring, he gripped my arm with excruciating force. I yelped, struggling to free myself.
“I’m done playing nice, Ellie,” he sneered, tugging at me as I pulled back, digging my heels into the floor. “I didn’t get this far just to be the joke of Congress.” Spittle formed at the corners of his mouth as he bared his teeth like an untamed beast, his face reddening. “You will leave with me. You will issue a public apology to the effect that you got cold feet. And, rest assured, you will marry me the second we land on American soil. I am not going to let you destroy everything I’ve worked for. This time, I’ll make sure you can’t run away from me.”
“Over my dead body,” I shot back, using every ounce of strength to try and pry his hands from me. “Or did you not pay attention in your Family Law class in law school? Consent is required for a marriage to be valid. Nothing you do or say could make me say those two words to you, Brock. I’m done being my parents’ puppet…being your puppet. That Ellie is dead. The new Eleanor will never marry you.”
I gave one final push, finally breaking from his grasp. I stalked toward the front door, taken by surprise when he grabbed my arm once more, preventing my escape. Before I could react, he backhanded my cheek, the force of his unexpected assault knocking me to the floor.
Disoriented, I attempted to get back on my feet, but Brock was on top of me before I could. He pushed me onto my back, covering my body with his. I kicked and flailed, to no avail.
“Is this what you want?” he roared, pinning my arms by my head. “You think I wouldn’t see the bruises on your wrists or the mark on your neck? Is that what you like?” His lips curled into a sinister smile. “Being treated like the slut you are? If that’s what it takes, I have no problem giving you what you want, what you deserve.”
My heart racing, I shook my head, trying everything in my power to free myself. No matter how hard I kicked, no matter how much I struggled, it was no match for his strength. Without warning, he clamped his teeth onto my neck. The pain unbearable, I screamed, tears staining my cheeks.
“Stop!”
Brock pulled back, grinning at me with disdain. “Stop? I thought this was what you liked, Ellie.”
“Not like this. Not with you,” I choked out through gritted teeth. “Never with you.” Glowering, I spit in his face. It would only anger him more, but I no longer cared. I wasn’t going to let this animal drag me back home and force me into being the girl I used to be.
His expression growing even more savage, he released his hold on my wrists and reeled back, landing another hard blow to my cheek. Despite the pain radiating through my face, I used the opportunity to knee him in the balls with everything I had. Caught by surprise, he groaned, shouting out numerous expletives as he rolled off me, clutching himself.
I scrambled to my feet, dizzy, lightheaded, desperate to get as far away from Brock as possible. As I rushed through the living room, a hand grasped my ankle and I tripped, landing on my stomach with a loud thump. The force of the fall knocked the wind out of me. Brock crushed my body to the floor, smothering me with his. He wrapped his arm around my neck, placing me in a chokehold.
“I’ll do it,” he hissed, his breath like knives on my skin as I fought for air. “I’ll just keep applying more and more pressure on your windpipe until you can’t fucking breathe at all.”
“Why?” I struggled to ask.
“Why what?”
“Why does it matter whether you marry me or not?” I squeaked out, my vision becoming blurry as I did everything I could to fight.
“Because of your little stunt, my approval ratings have taken a nosedive,” he sneered. “It’s an election year, and my opponent is now ahead in the polls by over twenty points. People think there’s a reason you didn’t want to marry me.” He paused. I could sense the wheels spinning in his head. With Brock, that was never a good thing. “At first, I figured I could fix this by making sure you went through with the wedding, but there may be a better way, a way that would ensure I capture all the sympathetic voters, as well. Imagine how the fine citizens of California will feel when they hear I flew halfway around the world to win back my heart, my soul, the love of my life, only to find she’d been kidnapped by some lowlifes and beaten to within an inch of her life. How I sat by your side, begging you to regain consciousness…” He tightened his arm around my throat. I strained for air, my eyes closing. “But it just wasn’t enough,” he finished with dramatic sincerity.
“You’d kill me just to win re-election?” I whispered. He said something in response, but everything had become muffled, unclear.
I fought to stay alert, to break free, but my vision grew darker, fuzzier, my muscles weakening. As I fell deeper and deeper, I heard the faraway sound of a door opening and closing, as if in a dream. Maybe that was all this was. Maybe I’d wake up in Dante’s bed to find out none of this was real, that this was simply a manifestation of the guilt I had shoved into my subconscious for years.
Wake up, Ellie, I said to myself, hoping it worked. I needed to wake up from this nightmare. I needed to be free. Wake up, Ellie. Wake up, Ellie.
Instantly, the weight crushing me disappeared and I gasped, drawing in a welcome breath of air. My eyes fluttered open when a deep, accented voice shouted, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”
A pair of warm arms wrapped around me, lifting me off the floor. Disoriented, I stared into Dante’s dark eyes, the lines on his brow creased with worry as his vision raked over me. There was something new in his expression. Gone was the flirtatious, sensual, mysterious man I thought he was when we first met. Instead, he gazed upon me with concern, relief, and fear. It was so raw, so vulnerable, so real.
“Thank God you’re okay.” He pressed his lips against my forehead, holding me tighter still. The way his arms embraced me made me feel as if he’d never let go again. He murmured what sounded like a prayer in Italian, his pounding heart drumming against my body. “Grazie a Dio. Grazie a Dio.” He kept repeating it as he carried me to the couch, placing me onto it.
I heard a shuffling, then Dante tore his gaze from me, his eyes fierce. “Don’t even think about it!” I stared, still unbalanced, as he rushed toward the front door. He landed a powerful left hook to Brock’s jaw, then shoved him against the wall. “You don’t get to slink away that easily.” His voice grew louder and more demanding with each word. “You don’t get to come into my home, hurt someone I care about, and not be held responsible for your actions. Your father won’t be able to get you out of it this time! His sphere of influence doesn’t quite spread this far across the Atlantic.”
Dante reached into his pocket with his free hand, his other arm holding Brock against the wall. As he retrieved his cell phone and began to make a call, all the possible repercussions of Brock’s actions here today ran through my head. Each one was worse than the previous, all of them preventing me from enj
oying the one thing that had evaded me for years…freedom. I couldn’t give that up. I’d finally had a taste of what it was like to be me. If I didn’t do something, I’d have to kiss it all goodbye.
“Stop!” I forced out, jumping from the couch and rushing toward Dante, grabbing the phone from him. Still a little dizzy, I placed my hand on the wall, steadying myself.
He looked at me, frowning, confused. “Eleanor…,” he said in an uncertain tone.
“Don’t. Please.” I swallowed hard, grimacing and briefly grabbing my throat to soothe the ache. “I don’t want the police involved.”
“If you think I’m just going to let this man come into my house and hurt you…” He trailed off, obviously struggling to maintain his composure. His chest heaved, his brows furrowed, panic visible in the way he carried himself. Shaking his head, he continued. “I can’t let him get away with it.”
“You have to.”
“No, I don’t,” he insisted, his jaw tightening.
“Yes, you do,” I said, more firmly this time. I pushed off the wall, giving him a pleading look. “You said you wanted to give me my wings, to free me from my old life.” I leered at Brock. I would give anything to stand back and watch him be hauled away in a pair of handcuffs. Maybe in a different place, a different time, I would have gotten the authorities involved. But at this place, at this time in my life, I valued my freedom more than Brock’s imprisonment. “If you call the police, I’ll deny anything happened.”
“But the bruises…” His eyes scanned my body.
“I’ll tell them the truth. That things got out of hand in the bedroom.”
He stared at me, his mouth agape, hurt and frustration evident in the lines around his eyes. “Why?”
“Because, Dante.” I drew in a deep breath, trying to hide my pain from Brock’s assault. “If you call, if the police get involved, everything I’ve felt these past few days will be gone.” My chin quivered at the thought. I straightened my spine, doing my best to reel in my emotions, especially in front of Brock. “This will be headline news. A trial could take months, years. I’ll be forced back into that life I struggled to escape from for twenty-eight years. If I’m sucked back in, I don’t know if I’ll be strong enough to break free again.”
