Mafia Captive

by Kitty Thomas

  Leo pulled her back into his arms. He pressed his lips against her cheek. “I won’t.”

  They got under the spray together, and he gently washed her. She leaned against the wall, quiet and still as a trophy as he ran his hands over her with the soap, not moving until he pulled her under the water to rinse her.

  He put the soap in her hands and groaned as she lathered him. Faith lingered on his cock, stroking and squeezing with her soapy hands. She didn’t slow down until he came. He hadn’t asked her to do it. She’d seen his raging erection and had taken care of matters because she understood it was her duty to keep him satisfied. He gripped her shoulders as he rode the fading strains of his orgasm.

  Then she went back to washing him as if nothing had happened. When she reached his back, she started crying again. Tears she couldn’t stop or control.

  The scars.

  When he’d asked Esmeralda to make him pay for what he’d done, he hadn’t thought about how the scars would be a permanent reminder, not just to him, but to Faith, and not just about what he’d done to try to make it right, but what had precipitated the event to make it necessary: that night that could never be erased, no matter how much blood flowed to cover it.

  But Faith’s words surprised him. “Your poor back. How could you let someone do this to you?”

  Her fingertips traced over the scars as his silent tears blended into the falling water.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Faith sat in front of a mirror in the many-windowed room in the east wing. Her wedding veil lay before her on the vanity table. Gemma had offered to help her get ready, but it was only a ruse to try to talk Faith out of marrying her brother. It was anathema to her that Leo should be happy after killing her husband.

  “I know my brother is very charming, but you know what he did to Emilio. What makes you think you’re safe with him?”

  As if Faith needed more things to fear. Though Leo hadn’t harmed her since that one night, it always existed as a possibility now.

  “Leo loves me,” she said. It hurt to say it because he’d never uttered the words, and she had no reason to believe it. But people assumed marriage was about love, and if she didn’t speak in terms of romance and candy that his sister could relate to, someone might see through the whole ploy. And they were so close to the end.

  “Leo loves Leo.”

  Faith held back the urge to cry as Gemma gave voice to her greatest fear.

  “He is hurting you, isn’t he?”

  Faith looked up suddenly, her eyes going to Gemma’s reflection in the mirror. “No! Of course not. He would never…”

  “Mm-hmm. It will only get worse. You think a man who hits you before your wedding day stops after it?”

  Gemma didn’t know about Leo’s kinks. She only assumed run-of-the-mill domestic abuse like what she’d suffered with her husband. There was no room for nuance in her world.

  “It’s not like that.”

  “Whatever you say. I think you’re quite foolish.” Gemma buttoned the last of the long line of buttons on Faith’s dress and took a step back.

  “I’d really like to be alone for a few minutes before the wedding,” Faith said.

  Gemma shrugged. “If I were you, I’d slip out the back door. But you already know how I feel about it.”

  When Faith was finally alone, her fingertips trailed over the delicate sapphire necklace at her throat. It had been in Leo’s family for years. Gina had lent it to her, counting it as something borrowed, something old, and something blue. Was it all right to do three parts of the tradition in one object? What did it matter? It was still a sham. None of it was real. It wasn’t being sanctioned by the Vatican. It was why they were having the wedding outdoors and not inside St. Stephen’s.

  Leo had decided they would join a different parish to avoid further questions about the marriage. He must not want to marry her if he was going to flee his childhood church to avoid making it official in the eyes of God.

  He’d offered to call the wedding off, but that was worse. With a legal marriage, even if it wasn’t sanctioned, she felt safer. She held onto the hope that as the years passed she could make him love her in the way she hoped for. Maybe then he would get a priest to bless their marriage so it would be real.

  She couldn’t stay in the dungeon every Christmas. She couldn’t give up the illusion of a family. Aunts and uncles and cousins and brothers and sisters and grandparents and parents. These had all been foreign concepts for much of her life, except on TV.

  Even if Leo couldn’t give her all the things she needed, he could give her family holidays. That by itself was almost worth going through with this. She had to get through today, then she could have a breakdown privately behind closed doors.

  She ran her fingers over the intricate beading of her gown. It was simple with thin straps and a satin wrap to go over her shoulders. The veil was more ornate. She felt like Cinderella, right before everything turned to rags, when it was easy to fall into the illusion and believe it could be real.

  Months had passed since she’d agreed to truly be his slave, and though the cane and whips and clamps never stopped hurting, and though she never stopped being afraid of what was coming next, she went through it all because each day her need to see that look of pride and devotion remain in his eyes grew stronger. The more she became his creation, the less it mattered if she was like him.

  When he’d realized he couldn’t fully transmute pain for her, instead of being disappointed, she’d seen the look of triumph on his face, as if this were better because it fed his sadism. She was his perfect doll, giving everything he wanted, and yet there was a piece missing, things he hadn’t taken or done since the very first night when she’d thought she was broken. Since that night she still couldn’t give name to because making it disappear into the mists of falsely reconstructed memory was better.

  It didn’t matter what he did. As long as she survived it. As long as he held her and whispered soft words to her at the end. That was all that mattered. She’d gone with him to hell each night and been his toy and the object of his sadism. She’d had her cathartic moments punctuated by nights where it was more pain than catharsis. Yet the peace he had by the end gave her peace, as if he’d gotten the demons out that tormented him—at least for a while, and in doing so, he’d slain some of hers as well.

  There was a soft knock at the door, and she looked up, her heart beating faster in her chest, desire rippling through her stomach. She knew that knock. Nobody knocked on a door quite the same way as Leo. A moment of superstition pushed into her mind. It was bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding. But did that matter if the whole thing was a farce anyway? How much worse could her luck get?

  “Come in.”

  Leo strode in like a dark, fairy-tale prince, his hair slicked back in a way that made him appear even more debonair than normal. More polished and in control, and she melted beneath the power of him a little more.

  He stood behind her, his hands on her shoulders, his gaze meeting hers in the mirror. Her breath caught as his fingers trailed down her throat to slide over the necklace Gina had lent her.

  “My Ma’s?”

  “Yes, Master,” she said.

  “No. Leo today. You must call me Leo, even in private, until all the guests are gone. I don’t want you to slip by mistake.”

  “L-Leo.” The word tasted strange in her mouth, almost unpleasant. It made her feel like his equal. In another time she might have longed for that, but now, if she couldn’t have the true love she’d heard stories about, at least she could belong to him.

  The bond between them had grown thick and tight. Nothing could break it. It had been forged in the fires of betrayal and redemption, of suffering and pleasure and secret moments below ground. It was stronger than normal love, more sure. Whatever happened, she would always be his.

  His fingers brushed her throat, unclasping the necklace and placing it on the table. Her eyes searched his, but he was already pu
lling a large, velvet case from his inside pocket. He set the box on the vanity in front of her, her veil framing it like a hazy dream.

  “Open it.”

  She lifted the lid and let out a gasp. A circle of platinum lay against the velvet. Glittering sapphires went fully around the choker.

  “Do you understand its significance?”

  Faith shook her head. Besides it replacing her something blue, she had no idea.

  “I’ll give you a wedding band today at the ceremony to wear with the diamond, but this is what’s real between us. It’s a collar. It’s my commitment and promise to you that you’ll always be mine. I’ll always protect you, and you’ll always obey me.” There was an edge in his voice at the end that sent a thrill down her spine. There was no question, no doubt, only a command.

  “Do you understand these terms?” He didn’t ask if she accepted them, just if she understood them. As far as he was concerned, gifting her with this symbol was a formality. She’d given herself body and soul to him long ago, and true to his word, the door had closed behind her after that choice.

  She nodded, unable to force a reply from her mouth. She watched, mesmerized, as he lifted the jewelry from the box and put it around her neck.

  “I never want to see your throat bare again. You will always wear this. You may take it off to shower or swim, but then it goes right back on.”

  The weight of the collar around the base of her throat felt like his hand on her always. He didn’t need to worry she’d take it off.

  He went to the door. “The ceremony starts in thirty minutes. I’ll see you down there.”

  “Leo, wait.”

  He stopped but didn’t turn around. “Yes?”

  “Will we ever… I mean… don’t you want to…” She was flustered and couldn’t get the words out, but their lack of consummation of the relationship since that one ugly night, had nearly burned her soul into oblivion. Didn’t he want her? Was she crazy for wanting him to go there again? Was it better to let it go and be content with the moments they had? But… didn’t he want her?

  Leo turned, his expression intense. “Don’t I want to… what?”

  He was going to make her say it. Her gaze went back to the empty box sitting on the veil. “We’ve never… made love.” She cringed as she said it. It sounded like the thing a high school girl would say. What adult woman called it “making love” anymore? Was she trapped in 1952?

  Wasn’t it more sophisticated to call it sex or fucking? Don’t make it too romantic. Don’t make it mean too much. Just let it be a physical act that sits alongside any other feelings but doesn’t define them, because that nonsense is for movies and books. Not the life of the three dimensional. Even if those weren’t her feelings and thoughts, she was sure they must be Leo’s. With their age difference, his world had always struck her as much more adult than the world she’d inhabited, as if she’d been surrounded by children wearing adult costumes.

  “Is that what you want?” His voice was soft when he asked, so soft that she almost didn’t hear it for all her inner turmoil.

  Yes. No. Maybe. I think so. I don’t know. It needs to happen. It’s a bad idea. It’ll happen eventually, or maybe it won’t. Can I be with him if it never happens? Or if it does?

  She heard the lock click into place and then felt more than saw as he came closer. Did she know what she was asking for? Would he hurt her? Would he be cold like before? Would it feel like rape? What if she couldn’t have normal sex again? Crossing this line meant they couldn’t uncross it. He’d left her body alone in that one way for months. Wasn’t that mercy? He could have taken it at any time but he hadn’t. And now… if he did again, did that mean that safety was gone forever? Was it okay to love him? Did it matter when she couldn’t make the feelings die anyway?

  Leo pulled her up from the vanity stool and spun her around, swallowing her fears and mental screams with his kiss. She whimpered against his mouth as he took her hand in his and guided her to the bed.

  “T-the windows,” she said.

  Bright light poured into the glass room.

  “Everyone is outside behind the house. No one can see in up here,” he said as his mouth moved over hers.

  He spun her away from him to undress her. The dress didn’t have a zipper. It was all buttons down the back—at least a hundred tiny buttons. It took several long minutes to get the gown off and would probably take longer to get it back on. They were going to be late to their own wedding. Even the fastest coupling would have their guests wondering at the delay.

  Faith blushed at that, but she was too far in. She had to finish this. She couldn’t stand in front of God and all their guests and marry Leo, no matter what the ceremony meant or didn’t mean to him, unless she knew. She had to know if she could do this with him and not feel like she was dying inside.

  He growled in frustration when he came to all the hooks on the corset. “All these damned buttons and hooks. Why not lock yourself in a chastity belt?”

  She sucked in a breath as he squeezed the corset tighter to release her from it one small hook at a time. When she was nude, he worked quickly to get out of his own clothing.

  Though the clock ticked impatiently to their wedding, he took his time. His mouth on her stayed gentle, his hands moved over her the same. When his body was inside hers, tears flowed down her cheeks with such force that she couldn’t remain quiet.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yes.” She gripped his back, her fingers pressing against the small indentations of the scars.

  He searched her eyes and must have found the truth because he kept going. The tears were relief. It was nothing like that night, and in that moment with the sunlight streaming in and their guests waiting, she knew she could face anything with him.

  ***

  Faith stood at the back of the rows of chairs with her veil in place, a bouquet of white roses in her hands. The wedding was all white. White chairs. White flowers. White candles. A white runner on the ground for her to walk on. The only thing besides the tuxedos that weren’t white were the clothing of the guests and her bright red hair.

  The reception, by contrast, had been planned under large tents with Japanese lanterns and bright jewel tones. It reminded Faith of the Wizard of Oz where everything went from black and white to color, and it gave her the smallest shred of hope that her life with Leo would be in color.

  Uncle Sal had offered to walk her down the aisle. He stood next to her looking more like an aging bodyguard than a father figure.

  He leaned close to her ear. “I think you know a lot more about this family than you should.”

  Her back went rigid. Uncle Sal was the type of man who would shoot you on any day of the year, be it your birthday, your graduation, or your wedding day. So the occasion might not save her.

  He let out a short grunt. “That’s what I thought.”

  She kept her voice low. “I don’t care what anybody is involved with. I want to stay out of it.”

  Sal nodded, displaying a sinister half-smile. “Keep that attitude. It’s safer for everyone.” After a beat he said, “You really have no family?”

  “What little I have, I don’t want here,” she said. Then possibly foolishly she added, “There’s no one else you can threaten.”

  Pachelbel’s Canon in D started, and the bridesmaids began to walk down the aisle wearing white sundresses and carrying daisies. They were followed by two of Leo’s nieces, Mariella and Noelle, in fluffy dresses that made them look like colorless cotton candy. They took their time scattering white rose petals on the ground, causing the orchestra to have to loop the music. The ring bearers wore white tuxedos and carried a white satin pillow on which was tied the ring.

  Faith glanced back at the house, then at the wedding stretched before her, and Leo standing at the front waiting for her. Even if it wasn’t the full fairy tale, wasn’t it more than what most women got? Did it matter if he returned her love? Was it enough that she loved him and that he wanted he
r?

  It had to be.

  Sal offered his arm, and she gripped it like a lifeline as the orchestra changed to the traditional wedding march. Some of the guests she recognized—family she’d met over the holidays—but there were many more people she didn’t know. She wondered how many of them thought it odd that the entirety of the guest list was composed of Leo’s family and friends with nobody there for her.

  When she reached the front, Sal lifted her veil and kissed her on the cheek before handing her over to Leo and returning to his seat. She gripped Leo’s hand as tightly as she’d held Sal’s arm. She felt as if she might pass out and wondered if it was the wedding or the corset or hunger that had put her in this state.

  She tried to ignore everything but Leo. Even the priest’s words blended and mixed with the warm summer breeze. It was only because she’d heard the marriage rite many times that she was able to keep up. Her eyes widened when she heard “obey” had been slipped into the bride’s wedding vows. How Leo managed to get the priest to deviate from the traditional Catholic rite to include “obey” she didn’t know, but if the ceremony was merely legal and not a sacrament, perhaps he’d decided they could do what they wanted.

  Leo smirked as she repeated the obey part. She glanced out at the guests, but no one noticed the addition. As she recited her vows, her fingers strayed to touch the platinum at her throat, and Leo smiled a secret smile meant for her.

  When rings were on fingers and vows had been exchanged and the kiss had been shared, they were announced as Mr. and Mrs. Leo Raspallo. They turned as the reprise of the wedding march began. Faith looked into the sea of smiling faces and something low in her gut twinged in panic. Her gaze was drawn to the left side of the crowd, the face that didn’t fit.

  A man dressed in a dark suit stood at the back. Faster than seemed possible, a gun was out of his jacket and aimed at Leo. Faith didn’t think; she just moved in front of her husband.

  A spray of gunshots rang loud and hollow in the air, silencing the orchestra and bringing screams from the guests. The roses escaped her grasp and fell to the ground, and then she fell, barely feeling the hands around her waist that cushioned her as she hit the ground. Vaguely she could see color in her wedding now. Drops of red on her roses, on her dress, on the white runner she’d walked upon.