Strong hands seize me, and I claw at the man frantically. He throws me painfully down on the ground and starts ripping at my clothing. He is desperately trying to get my pants off. I try to scratch his face, but he’s wearing a ski mask. He slaps me on the side of the head so hard that I see stars, and I’m momentarily dazed. That gives him time to unzip my pants, and then he starts tugging at them. Panic blasts through me.
He wants to rape me. Why? Why me? Is this somehow meant to hurt Matteo?
Summoning up memories from my self-defense class a couple of years ago, I fling my head forward and head-butt him in the nose so hard that he falls off me. I hear a grunt of pain, and I scramble to my feet and run up the stairs. I try to head for Matteo’s room, but the man is right behind me.
My heart is pounding with terror as he throws me face down on the floor and starts pulling at my pants again, then all of a sudden the lights blaze on. The man leaps up and looks around wildly. Matteo’s men are pounding up the stairs, and I scream at the top of my lungs, crawling across the floor away from my attacker.
He fires at the men as they burst through the door. They shoot back. My ears are ringing, and my head and body are bruised from being thrown around. I’m crying as the men pull me to my feet and ask me if I’m all right. I’m sobbing too hard to speak, but when they see that I’m basically okay, they march me back to my own room and lock me in.
Matteo gets back a few hours later, accompanied by that Russian boss, Mischa…and a doctor.
I can’t believe this.
I am forced to lie down on my bed and let the doctor probe inside me with his gloved fingers while I cry hopelessly. I hate this, I hate this. I was just nearly raped, and this feels horribly invasive, like a second assault.
The doctor steps back, rolling off his gloves. “She is still a virgin.”
“Get out,” Matteo glares. “Go tell Mischa.”
The doctor hurries from the room.
Why is it even any of Mischa’s business?
I sit up, wiping away my tears, waiting for Matteo to comfort me.
“Did you find out who was behind it?” I sniffle. I can’t wait to feel his arms around me. I’m still furious with him about Concetta, but all I want right now is to be held, to have him make me feel safe again.
Instead, Matteo glares at me. “You should have been more careful! You should have locked yourself in your room!” he shouts.
I leap to my feet, shaking with rage and humiliation.
“Are you serious?” I scream. “A man came in here and tried to rape me, I fought him off even after he hit me, and you’re mad at me? I am sick of this! I’m sick of everything! I am working from morning to night, doing every single thing you tell me, nothing is ever good enough for you, and now you blame me for this?”
Without a word, he throws me over his shoulder and storms out of the room, with me still kicking and screaming. All my frustration and hurt erupt from me as he carries me to his room and throws me onto his bed.
“I hate you!” I scream, my face flushed with fury.
He cuffs me, then adjusts the cuffs’ chain, hauling me up so my feet are dangling from the floor. He rips my clothes off my body with his bare hands. And then he lays into me with his belt, savagely slashing at me. Pain explodes all over my body. My screams are of rage as much as they are of anguish.
When he finishes, panting, he grabs me by the chin and, as I sob, I glare back at him with all the hate in my heart. There’s not an ounce of fake remorse on my face. “I did nothing wrong.”
He turns and stalks off to the bathroom. I hear water running. I’m hanging there, arms on fire, entire body throbbing. How far will he go if I don’t submit? Will he actually kill me?
Then I’d never suffer the agony of having my child taken from me. I’d be with my mother, my real mother. I believe in heaven. How could I not? Right now I’m living in hell.
He uncuffs me and drags me to the bathroom by the hair. He’s filled the sink up with water, and before I can say a word, he dunks my head in and holds me down. When he lets me up, I gasp and splutter – and as soon as I suck in a huge gulp of air, he does it again. My lungs catch on fire and my vision goes red. My body convulses. I’m flailing, crying, and he does it again, and again, until I’m half passed out.
He shoves me up against the wall. My eyes roll in my head.
“Ready for your next punishment? It’ll be a shocking experience.”
I shake my head, dazed. “I can’t… I won’t...”
He looks down at me, and his gaze flicks to the left. His head doesn’t move. There is an intense expression on his face – he is trying to tell me something without speaking.
“You can. And you will.” He is speaking very slowly and deliberately. “I know you are very upset that you were nearly forced to dishonor the family, and that is the only reason you are speaking in this fashion.”
His gaze does the weird eye-flick thing again.
“You feel as if you let me down, don’t you?” His voice is so urgent and intense…and his eyes are pleading with me now, begging me to agree.
And then it hits me.
Someone is watching us. Or listening to us. I’m not the only one being spied on in this house.
I think about how he raises his voice whenever he is praising me, as if to make sure that somebody can hear him.
He is trying to warn me.
And suddenly strength floods into my body. I don’t feel alone anymore. Whatever the hell is happening here, we’re in it together, fighting against an unseen enemy.
“Yes,” I say miserably. I don’t have to fake a shaky voice that’s choked with sobs. “Yes. I am so, so sorry that I nearly dishonored you. It made me go crazy for a minute there, and I am grateful to you for correcting my terrible behavior.”
He grabs a towel and starts drying me off.
“It was a momentary lapse. For the most part, you have been absolutely perfect. I cannot tolerate your transgression, of course, but I understand why you behaved in that way.”
Then he marches me back into the bedroom and chains me back up in the cuffs and shocks me until my entire body is cramped in agony. When he lets me down, I fall in a heap on the floor.
He looks down at me, frowning. “You’re all bruised. We are probably going to have to adjust the wedding dress because of it.”
“I am very, very sorry.” My voice is weak and raspy. I am saying exactly what I am supposed to say. The kind of thing that Concetta would say. It makes me want to vomit, but I will do it for Matteo. To help him, because I can sense on some very deep level that he risked everything to give me that warning. And he did it for me.
I summon up all my years of etiquette lessons and learning how to smile for my father’s supporters, for the cameras, no matter how tired or angry I felt. And I act my little heart out. I turn my tear-soaked, swollen face up to look at him.
“What can I do to make it up to you? You are so good to me, so patient, and I have failed you yet again.”
“Tomorrow, you will wear a ball gag in your mouth all day long except when you are eating or drinking or taking your Italian lessons. This will remind you to speak respectfully to your husband. The only words that ever leave your mouth are to be words of respect and love.”
“That is very fair, and I absolutely deserve it. Thank you for helping me to assume my role here.”
“I’m now going to go and spend some time with my mistress. Go to your room.” He isn’t going to help me; he isn’t carrying me.
I stagger back to my room. I am so weak that I fall to my knees, weeping, and I crawl part of the way. When I fall into bed, I let myself cry hysterically. It is a great luxury, one that I have not permitted myself in a while now.
I hear his footsteps go past me down the hall, and I cry even harder. He is going to be with Concetta. I hate her so much. And I hate him for going to her. Why does he have to do this to me? He can’t even wait until after our wedding?
There are so ma
ny things that he does that don’t make sense to me.
In the morning, after breakfast, he sends Valentina and her nanny away. And then right there in front of Concetta and Alonza, I am fitted with a ball gag. Concetta is glowing with delight, and she keeps stroking her gold necklace and smirking.
I have to clean the house wearing the ball gag, and my jaw aches horribly. I stop to massage my jaw frequently, and drool runs down my face.
At lunch, the ball gag is removed so I can eat, then replaced. The same at dinner. It is a horrible, agonizing day.
But despite that, the fact that Matteo took me into his confidence in that little way gives me strength. Several times, he comes and finds me and takes my hand and squeezes it and praises me for taking my punishment so well. I nod, tears leaking down my cheeks.
Chapter 17
Natasha
In the morning, Matteo comes in to my room early, pushing a cart with trays of food on top. I sit up in confusion.
“I have to make another delivery, and I will be gone all day, perhaps through tomorrow. This time, for your safety, you will remain locked in your room.”
I won’t have to clean the house!
“Of course,” I murmur, like the robot he’s turned me into. Then I hesitate. “What about that man who broke in here? Have you found out who he was?”
He sighs, shaking his head. “Not yet. He was a ghost – no records in the system that we can find, fingerprints burnt off. And I don’t know who let him in, either. I have an entirely new crew outside, just in case one of the other men betrayed me. And I have the only key to the lock on this door. You will be safe here. I will check in constantly. I wish I didn’t have to go, but promises have been made, and…” He trails off. Then he manages a smile. “You will be safe here.” But I see the faint circles under his eyes, and I am afraid.
He leaves me stocked with food and locks the door behind him. I am relieved to go back to sleep for a few hours after I eat. I’m so tired all the time these days.
A few hours later, I am awake, dressed, and practicing my Italian when the lock turns on the door. I go tense with fear.
“Matteo?” I call out.
Concetta walks in and looks me coolly up and down.
“What are you doing here?” I demand.
“Setting you free,” she says.
“Yeah, right.” I laugh disbelievingly.
Her perfect brow wrinkles in annoyance. “I know you and I haven’t exactly been friends…”
“Please. Try again. You’ve been nothing but a raving bitch to me from the minute I stepped foot in here, you have tried to sabotage me repeatedly, and it’s quite obvious that if you could literally kill me, you would. Now get out of my room.”
She tucks a strand of glossy black hair behind her ear, and shrugs without apology. “It’s true. I do hate you, because you are marrying the man I love. And that’s why I am willing to help you escape.”
This is clearly some kind of cruel trap, and I’m not falling for it.
“There is no way for us to get out of here,” I say angrily. “He’s got his men surrounding the place. And even if you did succeed in getting me out of here, you and I both know that Matteo would have you killed for defying him. Very painfully.”
She shudders when I say that.
“Only if he caught us,” she says, her voice wavering a little. “Let’s just say I have help on the inside. Right now, the security video is playing on a pre-recorded loop from earlier, so the guards who are watching you don’t even see me in this room. My helper will make it look as if you and I were both kidnapped by Matteo’s enemies. It’s very believable given what else has been going on lately, including the attack on you.”
“What else has been going on?” I ask.
She ignores the question. “We’ve got to get going quickly. This is literally your only chance to get away. After this, he is taking you to a place that is even more locked down than this, and you will never, ever escape.”
I stand up hesitantly. I am truly torn. I don’t trust her, but I want to escape so badly. I just want to see my parents again. Hell, I even want to see Lauren. I don’t want to be beaten, I don’t want to clean house for eighteen hours a day, I don’t want my children taken from me, I don’t want to be a prisoner for the rest of my life.
But if this is a trap, I’m in so much trouble.
“Why wouldn’t you just let him marry me, then carry on seeing him the way you did before?” I’m begging for a reason to believe her now. “I mean, you do realize that if I escape and he is not able to recapture me, he will just marry somebody else. And it will never be you.”
Her eyes flare with hatred, and I am pleased to see that the missile hit its mark. I loathe her for so many reasons. I hate her for being part of a conspiracy that would help kidnap a woman and take her from her home, and for the ways she’s tormented me, and for crawling all over Matteo and rubbing it in my face.
She sucks in an angry, bitter breath before answering me. “Because you are driving a wedge between him and me. He thinks he loves you. If you escape, then he will marry someone else, and he will not feel the way about her that he does about you. He will come back to me, and things will be the way they were before between us.”
“Driving a wedge between you,” I scoff. “You were just in his room giving him a blow job!”
Anger twists her face. “I was trying to, but he wouldn’t let me. He was pushing me away from him. Ever since you arrived, he won’t fuck me anymore.”
“Now I know you’re lying! He goes to your room all the time!” I say furiously. It’s odd, though – I wouldn’t have thought she’d be such a good liar, and her hurt looks genuine.
“He just sits there and reads books or talks to me.” Tears fill her eyes. “And at first I thought that we were growing closer than ever, because in the past it was all just about sex with us. I thought, he’s falling for me, he wants to get to know me better. Isn’t that ironic? But no, he was just stringing me along, and every time I try to touch him, he pushes me away. When you are gone, it will go back to the way it was.”
My head is whirling with this new information. Why would Matteo hurt me so much by saying he was going to be with Concetta when he wasn’t even fooling around with her?
“Say I believe that you would actually try to help me escape. How would we do it?”
“You will get in the trunk of a car, and I will drive you out of here. When we get far enough away, you will hit me in the face a few times, enough that it looks convincing that I was kidnapped. Then you will drive away and leave me. Go home to your family. I can convince Matteo that we were both kidnapped and you and I managed to overpower our kidnappers together, then you ran off.” She smiles maliciously. “He will be furious with you for abandoning him. I will comfort him.”
I hate the thought of her comforting him.
And I am terrified at the thought of what would happen to me if I was caught trying to escape, but this is probably the best chance I have of getting out of here. Maybe the only chance. So I nod reluctantly. I am light-headed with fear as I hurry down the hallway after her, down a flight of stairs, through the house, then into a garage. I can barely force my legs to keep moving, but once I leave my room, there’s no going back.
I feel surprisingly bad about leaving Matteo. We won’t get married now. We will never get married. We’ll never have that honeymoon where he spends weeks making me feel like the most adored, beautiful, precious woman in the world.
This is what I want, though, isn’t it? I want to escape. It would be insane for me to want anything else.
What I am not telling Concetta is that the minute I get out of here, I’m going to the police.
I will tell them where I have been, I will tell them what he did to me and how he threatened my family, and if he tries to attack my family once that information has gone public, there will be too much heat coming down on them for him to risk it. At least, I pray that’s what will happen.
&nbs
p; Concetta hurries me over to a large, dark car with tinted windows and starts to open the trunk.
“I am not getting in the trunk.”
“You agreed!” she cries out furiously.
“Yes, and it got me this far, didn’t it?” I flash her an evil smile. “You and I both know I can’t trust you, Concetta. I’ll lie down on the floor in the back seat, and you can cover me up with something.”
“No! It won’t work! I have to drive past the guard at the gate. He’ll make me roll down the windows and look inside the car, so I can’t hide you in the back seat on the floor.”
“Oh well.” I shrug, folding my arms across my chest. My father taught me about a lot about negotiating.
“Are you crazy?” She grabs me by the arm and tries to pull me. “Listen up, you spoiled little bitch, get in the fucking trunk or I’ll beat the living shit out of you.”
My fear is bolstered by a mad, desperate courage. “You can try. But you won’t get me in that trunk. And if you hit me, I won’t just fight back, I’ll scream at the top of my lungs. And sooner or later the guards will come find us, and then you can explain how you let me out of my locked room.”
She looks back and forth between the trunk and me, her face twisting with rage and panic. “You have probably just condemned both of us to death,” she says furiously.
But she quickly pulls a blanket out of the trunk, has me lie down on the back seat, and covers me completely. The windows are darkened – nobody will be able to see back there just by glancing. My stomach is slushy with fear as we drive, and I feel the car slow down a minute later as she stops at the gate. She rolls down the window and I hear her tell the guard she’s going to town to do some shopping.
We drive and drive, and first I hear highway noises, then the noises fade and we’re out in some rural area, bumping over rutted roads. I lie there silently. I think we’ve been driving for about two hours.
Finally, she pulls over and sings out, “You’re free!” And she comes to the side of the car and starts to pull the door open. I am in position, my legs coiled back, ready to strike. I lash out with my feet and kick hard, sending the door smashing into her face.
Matteo: A Dark Mafia Hate Story Page 14
