Breaking Belle (Princess After Dark Book 2)

by Isabella Starling

  “Where were you?” I whispered against his skin, and he smoothed down my hair.

  “Business,” he said simply.

  “Why did you lock me in my room?” I asked, and he made me look at him. I didn’t want to show how emotional I was, but it was hard to hide the tears in my eyes.

  “Because I was scared you’d get hurt,” he said simply, and my heart panged. “Now sit here and look pretty, beautiful, I have business to attend to.”

  I turned away from the door when I heard voices, and snuggled closer to him as I heard two men enter. Luca and Nico probably, the two men who made me so nervous I itched to get away from them. I snuggled closer to Dom, and he held me firmly as he spoke to his men.

  I tried to listen, but my mind was taken over by rampant thoughts racing through it.

  I didn’t understand my connection to Dom. I didn’t understand it at all.

  The need for him when he was away, the way he made me want to cry and scream with every word he said and every second his skin wasn’t on mine. This kind of dependency after a week of keeping me captive was incredible. I’d heard of Stockholm syndrome, but this couldn’t have been it, because I’d felt the same crazy, magnetic pull towards him before I let him take me. And he hadn’t mentioned my father or my family once, a fact that had me scared for them, especially Adrian… My sweet little brother who was kind and sweet, and didn’t deserve to be dragged into this whole mess.

  Words from the men’s conversation floated in and out of my mind, but once I realized what tone Nico was using, I started to listen.

  “We’re in danger,” Nico said urgently. “They will find out where we are any time now. We’re easy fucking prey.”

  “We’re sitting ducks here,” Luca joined in. “They’re going to fucking kill us, one by one.”

  “I’d like to see them try,” Dom hissed. “They’ll never get past me. I won’t let them tear this place down.”

  “You are being stubborn,” Luca insisted. “This is ridiculous. We could all die.”

  Dom slammed his fist on the armrest of the throne, and the sound rang out in the big, empty room.

  “You fucking work for me,” he said viciously. “My family. My rules. My reign. If you don’t like it… you want to be a fucking traitor, get the fuck out of my house.”

  Luca set his mouth in a line. I’d turned my head now, enough to see what was going on. The tension in the room was palpable until Luca cursed.

  “I’m leaving,” he said. “I’m not going to let them get me. You’re insane, Blackwood. You’ll be at fault if anything happens to any of them, including her.”

  He pointed at me, and Dom let out a low growl.

  “Keep her out of this,” he said, his words an obvious threat. “Get the fuck out, if that’s your choice. Fucking traitor.”

  Luca turned around and stormed out. He slammed the door behind him so hard it came off the hinges, hanging pathetically on one of them and creaking in the breeze.

  “Don’t worry about him,” Nico said, and I gave him a long look.

  I still didn’t like the guy. There was something untrustworthy, something sleazy about him… But right now, he was the one who’d stuck by Dom while Luca ran out on him.

  “Leave,” Dom snarled, and the man bowed his head before leaving us by ourselves.

  I lifted my hand and traced a line down Dom’s tense jawline. I didn’t dare ask what they’d been talking about, but by the throbbing vein in Dominic’s forehead, I knew it was something big.

  “Why aren’t you afraid?” I whispered as my fingertips connected with his skin.

  He looked down at me, and for the first time, I saw the pain in his eyes. And once I did, I couldn’t understand how I’d missed it before. It cut deep in a way that made it almost impossible to look into his eyes.

  “Because I’m the beast,” Dom told me. “And nobody hurts me.”

  That night, I’d been told I would join Dom for dinner once again.

  I didn’t completely understand what was going on between us just yet, but whatever it was, I knew he felt it too. It was plainly obvious in his dark eyes and even more so when I was in his arms. I was desperate to know more about him. Desperate to find what made him tick.

  Now that he was starting to take care of me properly, my malnourished body was finally starting to fill out a little. I stood in front of the mirror and studied my reflection, my fingers roaming down my hips.

  He had sent another dress over, and I’d asked Sarah to leave so I could open it by myself. It was beautiful, but I never doubted his taste anyway. The beautiful nude satin that clung close to my body was covered with gorgeous white lace, the dress perfectly formfitting and hugging my curves. It was sleeveless and reached a little above my knees.

  The heels were proving to be trouble. They were impossibly tall, nude and gold, and the second I put my foot down, I stumbled and broke the heel. I felt tears in my eyes as I stared at them broken in my hands. Then, I decided to just go down barefoot.

  Dominic wasn’t waiting for me this time around, and I walked down the stairs without his watchful gaze on me. I approached him in the dining room, the table once again loaded with all kinds of amazing food, the scent of it assaulting my nostrils and making my mouth water.

  He raised his eyes when I came closer.

  I gave him a little apologetic smile, my bare feet cold against the marble floor.

  “I can’t walk in the heels,” I explained, sitting down next to him just like last time. “They broke in seconds… I’m sorry, Dom.”

  And for some reason, he didn’t even get upset with me. He stared for a few moments, then went back to his food, and I kept stealing glances at him as he ate.

  He looked especially handsome in a perfectly tailored suit, his chin covered in dark stubble, and his blue eyes more expressive than he would like them to be. Finally, he spoke up.

  “Eat, beautiful,” he said, never taking his eyes off his plate.

  A pang of disappointment went through me. He hadn’t even commented on the way I looked, no mention of the dress or the makeup Sarah had helped me apply, or my hair and how perfectly done it was.

  “You don’t like the way I look?” I asked, my voice shaking a little.

  “You look like dessert,” he said firmly, finally looking back up at me. “So, if you don’t want me to do what I did last time, I suggest you tuck in and eat.”

  I hid the smile on my face and started eating, cutting my food and stealing little looks at him the whole time I was eating.

  I was worried, though, because neither of us mentioned the scene in the throne room earlier. One of his thugs had just walked out, and now—as far as I knew—we just had one of them left, with Chip and Martha. But what were they supposed to do if someone attacked, like Dom’s men had warned us? Neither Sarah nor Chip would be able to defend Dom, they couldn’t even defend themselves. And I wasn’t so sure I could, either.

  “Did you go back to the library?” Dom asked while we ate together.

  “Yes,” I nodded. “With Chip. We read together.”

  A smile snuck its way on my lips when I remembered Chip struggling to read along with me. I had a feeling he had trouble reading, maybe dyslexia. But I’d always been a big reader, and I planned on making things easier for him, so he could get lost in the world of books, just like I loved doing.

  “Chip,” Dom repeated. “The lanky kid? Why are you spending time with him?”

  He looked angry, his features darkening as he stared at me over his plate.

  “Are you…” I started, smiling wide. “Are you jealous, sir?”

  “Eat!” he barked at me. “I’m not jealous.”

  “I think you might be,” I giggled, and he looked up at me so seriously my smile went away.

  But then, his features broke into a smile, and he laughed along with me.

  “He reminds me of my brother,” I admitted, and just like that, all sense of merriment was gone.

  I stared at my lo
aded plate and thought of my family, how we sometimes struggled to put food on the table and how Adrian and I would end up hungry because our brothers got to eat first. I pushed my plate away, suddenly losing my appetite. I didn’t want to eat, not when I knew Adrian might be starving.

  “Belle,” Dom spoke up. “What’s wrong, beautiful?”

  “My brother,” I said simply. “I miss him.”

  He reached for my hand, his fingers clumsy as they stroked me. It seemed like he couldn’t fully comprehend my sadness, or maybe he was just awkward in trying to make me feel better.

  “I’m sorry, Belle,” he said. “But your father has a debt to pay. You volunteered to come with me.”

  I looked up at him, my bottom lip jutting out in protest as my eyes met his.

  “It doesn’t change anything,” I said simply. “Just because I chose to leave with you doesn’t mean I don’t miss them…”

  I looked at my plate, feeling the tears well up in my eyes. But I wasn’t going to let him see me cry. It would’ve been too humiliating.

  “Belle,” he said, reaching over and taking my hand in his. “I want you to come with me.”

  My eyes shot up, and I asked, “Where?”

  “I want to tell you a story,” he went on, his gaze heavy with pain. “We’re going to the rose garden.”

  I TOOK HER HAND IN mine and led the way.

  Her tiny fingers were so small, they felt lost in my palm, and I tugged on her arm impatiently to make her follow me faster. I was ready for the truth to come out now. I was ready to finally show her my broken heart, every little piece the Russians had shattered it into. I was ready to tell Arabelle the story of the rose garden.

  She followed me slowly, as if she was afraid of the truth finally coming out. But I made her go faster, each step taking us closer to a part of me I’d kept locked away for a long, long time.

  I didn’t stop until we reached the arches surrounding the rose garden. Now that it was late at night, it looked more beautiful than ever.

  The snow that covered the ground was untouched because everyone knew better than to trample the garden. The roses were in full bloom. When I planted the garden, I’d used seeds that lasted through every season and blossomed into gorgeous, blood-red flowers. Now, they were in full bloom, beautiful and savage in the winter air.

  “Come with me,” I said to Belle, and I reached into my pocket, bringing out a key. I slid it into a hidden keyhole in the arch, and Belle gasped as the door into the garden moved, creaking as it let us in on its secrets.

  “What is this place?” she asked softly as I took her hand and led her into the thicket of roses.

  “I let it grow wild,” I started, my voice nearly breaking on the words.

  I didn’t know whether I would be able to do it. Tell her exactly what had happened, how the Russians had hurt me, and what they had done to my family years ago. How I’d been living in constant fear and bone-chilling anger for a decade, desperate to punish them for what they had done to me, but unable to act out the revenge plans I’d been working on for so long.

  I took a deep breath and showed her to a stone bench. There was no roof above it, and the winter moonlight shone down brightly as we settled on the bench.

  “Your feet are bare,” I said to Belle and raised them into my lap. “Just like the day you came here.”

  I touched her gently, threading my fingers through her toes and making her giggle. Her feet were so small, so delicate. She must’ve been so cold in that dress, out here in the open.

  I slid my jacket off and placed it around her shoulders, and she looked at me with those enchanting eyes as I made sure she stayed warm enough.

  I was falling in love. It was becoming painfully obvious, and as the days passed, I found myself getting more and more attached to the beautiful girl who was now on my lap. I didn’t want her to ever leave, and I clung to her almost a little desperately. She was my lifeline now. She was the reason I was still living, and the reason I’d keep getting up when I fell down.

  “Tell me your story,” she asked softly, and I looked down into her eyes, cuddled up on my lap.

  “You sure you want to know?” I asked her, and she nodded, simple and sweet. “It’s not a pretty story, Belle…”

  “I want to know,” she said stubbornly, and I smiled at her before looking at the marble statue in the middle of the garden.

  “I had a family, too,” I said, my mind wandering back to the days when this was true. “There were a lot of us. My parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles. I also had a little sister. Her name was Roza.”

  “Is your name really Dominic Blackwood?” she whispered, and I looked away as I shook my head no.

  “It’s Dominico Bianchi,” I said in low voice. “I changed it the day our enemies slew my family like they were pigs. The day my little sister died weeping in my arms.”

  I couldn’t even look at Belle, but I could tell she was crying, so I pulled her closer on my lap, and she snuggled in. I could feel the wetness of her tears on my cheeks, on my neck and on my chest. She was so sweet. She reminded me of a helpless little kitten I’d taken in from the cold, but she’d grown claws and learned how to fend for herself.

  “They’re buried in this garden,” I went on, my lips muttering against her forehead. “All of them. I planted the roses in their soil when they died ten years ago. And since then, I have been slowly trying to rise from the ashes. From their complete destruction… I will not let my family be forgotten. I will have my vengeance.”

  “How could anyone do that?” Belle asked me, and I finally looked down at her.

  She was a lost little girl, and I was the bad man leading her into the darkness she’d always know about from now on. She’d been shielded, protected from the truth, the cruel word for too long. But I was about to shatter any sense of normalcy Arabelle had. I was about to let her in on all my secrets.

  “We were the last remaining relatives of Don Bianchi,” I said, my voice strained. “He was my great-grandfather… And he had a feud going with the Mikhailovs. The Russian mafia… They fought for years. So many people died, so many needless victims. My family distanced themselves, changed our names. But they still found us. And they punished us for crimes we didn’t commit, to show the world they were back in the game.”

  She forced my head down and kissed me with sweet desperation.

  “I’m sorry, Dom,” she whispered once our lips parted. “I’m so very sorry for everything that has happened to you.”

  “They forced me to learn to defend myself, Belle,” I told her. “Forced me to enter their ring, play against them. And I’m going to win.”

  “What if they find us?” she asked, and I grinned at her.

  “Simple,” I said, “I’ll finally have the revenge I’ve been waiting for my whole adult life.”

  I kissed her then, my lips demanding and cruel, seeking pleasure that would make me forget about everything.

  My mother, my dead father. My sweet Roza, breathing her very last breath as she lay sprawled in my arms. How I’d pretended I wasn’t breathing when a Russian kicked my motionless body on the floor. How I let them pile us up, body on top of body, like we were fucking plague victims. How I’d escaped… Finally allowed myself to take a deep breath when I was saved by men who still followed the Bianchis wherever we fucking went.

  Men who taught me how to fight.

  Men who taught me how to kill.

  Men who knew cruelty beyond bounds, and gave their knowledge to me, so I could feed off it.

  Men who had sons like Luca and Nico, who would give their life for me.

  But our numbers were dwindling, the Russians picking out Bianchis and their supporters one by one. We’d scattered across the globe, hiding from death and praying every day the Russians wouldn’t find us. I was one of the few who believed it was about time we joined forces. Picked up our old weapons and battled for the ones we had lost.

  I tried to forget it all as I kissed the beautiful girl
in my arms, holding her gently, as if she was made out of porcelain. She pulled back, her lips raw from touching my stubble and her dark eyes begging for so much more.

  Everything in my past made me stop. I didn’t trust myself. I didn’t know whether I was still capable of being a man after years of being trained to be a beast.

  But for Arabelle Dalton, I would try.

  “I want to make love to you,” I muttered against her lips when she pulled away.

  Her eyes found mine once again, and she whispered, “Make love to me, Dominico.”

  I laid her down on her back, and she gasped when her naked skin connected with the cool stone. I tugged on her dress, desperate for her body, and she let me, sliding the lace down around her waist and revealing her full, perfect tits. I leaned down, my lips wrapping around her nipple and sucking gently as she dragged her nails all over my back. She was perfect, her skin covered in goosebumps as I tasted her tits. But I wanted so much more. I’d never get enough of her.

  “Please, Dom,” she whispered, sliding her dress down over her hips and revealing her milky thighs. “Please, touch me here…”

  I growled and tore the dress off her, exposing her pussy. She wasn’t wearing anything under that sinful little dress, her body bare and so ready for me.

  “Are you sure?” I grunted against her chest, looking up at her. “No going back after you say yes, beautiful. Not even if you change your mind.”

  “Yes,” she said, her voice shaking with need as she pushed my head down urgently. “Please. Now, Dom.”

  I liked the bossier side of her, and I followed the path her body was urging me to take, licking a line down her smooth navel and heading south until I was kissing the inside of her thighs, lapping at the wetness that had leaked all over her legs.

  “Taste me,” she cried out. “Dom, please…”

  I licked her between her legs and she thrashed underneath me, her body desperate to get off. I sucked her clit into my mouth and the girl went wild, cursing and begging and whispering to me like this was something she’d been waiting her whole life for. I was happy to indulge her, hooked on the way she tasted and smelled, desperate to make her come all over my chin.