by Olivia Ryann
I glance at Fiore, who is slowly making her way down the corridor. I’ve taken away her shoes and her choice of clothes. I’ve had her hair dyed to remove the flashy bright blonde. I’ve done dirty things to her, marked her with lashes of my cum.
And yet, she seems above it. Her posture is still frail and nervous, like she’s expecting a violent outburst at any moment…
But there is something in the way that she conducts herself. An elegance to the way she carries her head so high. Something I didn’t see clearly before.
“Come on, then,” I say, jerking my head toward the open door. “You know you want to look.”
Heading inside my office, I make my way around to my desk, sitting in my comfortable black rolling chair. Fiore appears in the doorway, hesitating. I can feel her eyes on my book collection on the wall behind me.
Opening my laptop on my desk, I sift through a handful of emails while she decides if she’s going to enter the room or not. When she does, tiptoeing inside and pausing by one of the stiff-backed wooden chairs, she looks like a deer ready to take flight.
I favor her with a glance. “What is it that you want, Fiore?”
She blushes, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Her eyes are glued on the books behind my head. I have to try not to take it personally that she doesn’t actually want to be in the room with me, it’s the books that she lusts after.
She doesn’t say anything, just stares at them, chewing on her lips nervously.
“Sit down,” I say, pointing to the chair.
She looks at me, her blue eyes locking on my face, and I can almost hear her pulse pick up. She slides her body around to the front of the chair, almost seeming unwilling to take the risk of sitting here with me.
It’s sort of satisfying to know that the system I’ve been training her with — the stripping away of her identity, then rebranding her by alternately tormenting her and playing nice — is working.
She swallows, and her eyes are drawn back to the books again. Rocking back in my chair, I contemplate her. It would be nothing for me to give her a book… but I want something in return.
What should I demand, though?
The fact that I haven’t yet ground her old life out of her mind weighs on me. As long as she still thinks that there is a chance that someone might save her, life won’t be completely restful for me. Better that she gives up on it entirely.
“You want a book to read?” I say, gesturing behind me.
Her eyes widen for a second, then she swallows again and nods. “Yes.”
I cock my head, considering her. “You weren’t randomly chosen to be my toy. There is a reason, which has everything to do with the men who were part of your family. You know that, right?”
A puzzled look appears on her face, her brow puckering just a tiny bit. “I know that… I mean I assume that you are a rival of my father’s.”
That is more right than she knows. I don’t think that she knows that her father is dead, though. It takes me a few seconds to make sure that my next words are well-considered.
“Correct. What I don’t think you understand is how vile and corrupt your family was. I think they sheltered you from a lot.” I stop, a thought occurring to me. “Obviously not too much though, since they fucking sold you.”
She blanches and reels back like she’s been hit, biting her lip. She doesn’t say anything, but her expression grows more intense.
“I just want to make sure that you fully understand something, Fiore. I want you to realize that you’re dead to them. They are not coming to save you. And you shouldn’t want them to, honestly. For all my flaws, I think I have saved you from them.”
A scowl immediately overtakes her face. When she speaks, her tone is terse, as if she’s spitting. “You’re no savior.”
My brows rise. “No? You think not?”
“I know better,” she says, her jaw jutting out stubbornly.
“I think you’re wrong. Not only that, but I have a video that you should see. It’s time that the blinders come off. It’s time to see your family for who they really are.”
A perplexed look crosses her face. “You have a video of them?”
“I do. And I’ll show it to you.”
She looks suspicious. “What if I don’t want to see it?”
I roll backward, glancing at the wall of books. “I’ll trade you. One book for one minute of viewing. That’s more than fair, I think.”
Her lip curls a bit in defiance. “Like you would know what is and is not fair.”
“Do you not want the book, then?” I say, pretending to rise from my chair.
“I didn’t say that,” she says quickly.
“Because it’s a good deal.”
She presses her lips together, repressing whatever she wants to say. A soft smile plays on my lips. She’s learning.
“It’s a generous offer. Go ahead and pick any book you like.” I gesture to the wall behind me. “Or you can go back to memorizing the ceiling tiles or whatever it is that you do when I’m not here.”
That earns me a glare, but she doesn’t argue. She just stands up, watching me carefully, and comes around to my side of the desk. I spend the next couple of minutes looking at her body. Her long legs, her firm breasts, that fucking ass…
Her ass is amazing. Flawless. Without reproach. As she creeps by my chair, trying to pick the best book possible, I casually reach out and grab a handful of her sweet ass.
“Hey!” she squeaks, slapping at me hand.
“It’s mine. I’ll touch it if I want to,” I shrug, moving my hand back.
She darts away, evading my touch. “How about The Count of Monte Cristo?”
Wheeling toward my bookshelf, I see a copy of the novel there. “If that is your choice, then certainly.”
Fiore makes strong eye contact with me, like that will stop me from groping her while she reaches for the book.
“Uh uh,” I tell her, reaching out and grabbing her by the hips. She writhes away from my touch, a protest already on her lips. “We agreed. You have to watch it first.”
Giving me the evil eye, she scurries around the desk, hovering on the other side. “Fine.”
I smirk at her. She thinks that she is playing a game, but I’m the king. I make the rules. I could have her every day and every night if I wanted to take her by force. Bent over this damn desk, if that was what made me hard.
Turning to my laptop, I click a few buttons. A black video viewing screen pops up, and I turn the whole computer away from me. I’ve already seen this video of Sal Carolla and his sons raping and killing Anna enough times.
The hour has come for Fiore to understand just how deviant and perverted her own family was. Then, when I’ve let that sink in for a while, I’ll let her know that I killed those fuckers before I ever even bought her.
It’s a slow game that I’m playing, but ever so worthwhile.
I mute the volume and press play, watching Fiore’s face. The video cuts right to Sal balls deep inside Anna, with Anna screaming and pleading for mercy. Fiore’s eyes widen, and she glances up at me. Perhaps waiting for confirmation that this is all a joke.
But it isn’t a joke. This video was dropped off at my New Orleans residence after Anna’s head, to rub salt in my wounds. Actually, you could say that this video was what made me decide to kill them all.
All but my Fiore. Her, I kept alive, just waiting for moments like this.
Moments where I swear, I can see her heart actually shredding into a million pieces. Her complexion takes on faintly green cast, and she staggers away from the computer.
She looks at me, her blue eyes filled with horror and disgust. She gasps out a single word. “Why?”
But before I can respond, she races out of the room, trying to get as far away as possible from what she’s just seen. The images are inside her mind now, though. Just like they’re in my head.
Burned permanently.
I sit back, putting my hands behind my head and look
ing out the window.
Now she knows, at least.
I’m not the only man in her life that is capable of evil.
13
Katherine
There’s a series of broad clay steps that lead from the backyard to the front. Tucked away on the side of the mansion, winding gently around the kitchen and laundry, no one goes over there. It’s a little scenic, with trees clustered overhead. I can even make out the nearby mountains from this spot, so it’s a perfect place to reflect.
Today even Sin and the other bodyguards are missing in action, so it’s just me alone on the steps. My arms are wrapped around my knees as I stare out into the misty tree line, lost in my own thoughts.
Mainly, I’m homesick today. I know that all the shit has been going on here recently, and I have plenty of things to be concerned about. Not the least of whom is Monster himself… he seems unhinged, lately.
That doesn’t spell anything good for me, I’m afraid. But beyond Monster’s moods, beyond being kidnapped and brought here against my will, there’s more. There is a sadness that has seeped deep down in my bones, New Orleans calling out to my very blood itself.
I think of my brothers, when they were young and still sweet. When I was a little girl, I was home schooled, told that it was for my protection. So I would wait by the door when my brothers would get home, anxiously waiting for some news from the outside world.
My brothers would pile in the door wearing their red and grey prep school uniforms, and each of them would touch my head.
“Hey Kat,” each of them would say.
Usually, if I was good, Tony would even bring me a piece of Roman taffy and a story about his day. That’s how I grew up, through Tony’s candy and stories. When Mom died, Tony got me a bunch of that Roman taffy and a box full of books.
Shakespeare, Harper Lee, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Ray Bradbury… all were jammed inside that box. Tony didn’t know it, but that box of books started my love affair with the written word. It’s how I got out of my home and explored the deepest jungles and rode jagged ice floes.
Thinking about that right now, about the books and my once-beloved Tony… my eyes fill with tears. I lay my head down on my knees and close my eyes.
The need to sob is strangely absent. Maybe it’s the fact that the last time I saw Tony, he was literally handing me over to kidnappers.
And then there’s my father. The man I was supposed to love for my whole life. The man who was supposed to protect me, no matter what. He betrayed me, sold me, stuck me here.
And let’s not forget that I saw that video of him… hurting that girl… How can I be expected to forget or forgive something like that?
I can’t. I won’t. All I can do is harden myself against the facts now.
Maybe it’s how far away New Orleans seems, full of problems that are impossibly small compared with what I have to deal with now.
Either way, I just sit there for a long time. I let my tears flow unchecked for the time being, not know or caring whether they were for my family or for me. The breeze blows gently, stirring my hair.
The wind shifts. I get a sense that I should open my eyes. When I do, I’m startled to find someone sitting not two feet away. How did he get there so quickly and quietly?
And he’s not just anyone, either. There can be no doubt that it’s Monster’s brother, staring at me intently with those eerie grey eyes. Like Monster, he’s well over six feet tall, and made of pure muscle. My gaze is drawn to his hands, powerful and deft.
He flexes them unconsciously, and I start to wonder how many women just like me he has hurt with his hands alone. Those hands are a kind of beautiful danger. That much I’m sure of.
There is something about him though… something in his eyes, like a predator scenting his prey perhaps… It sets me on edge right away. I look at back up him, and my breathing grows uneven.
He smiles playfully, which gives me chills all over my body. “You are prettier than I thought you would be, Katherine. My brother doesn’t appreciate that about you.”
I want to ask why he would use my real name, when I’ve heard nothing but Fiore from Monster these past two weeks. I want to tell him to take his compliments and shove them somewhere unpleasant.
But I don’t. Instead, I just suspiciously blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.
“Who are you? Are you… his brother?”
He nods slowly. “Yes. I’m Damen. I’m just here while my brother transacts some business. I thought I would check on his investment, see how you’re faring under my brother’s tutelage.”
Why does every word he speaks fill me with a sense of dread.
“What do you want?” I demand to know.
His expression turns patient. He looks at me like a cat looks at a mouse, like he’s bored but he might as well practice chasing me.
“I want many things,” he says, reaching out to trail his fingertips along the flesh above my knee. I recoil, pushing myself away from him.
“Don’t touch me,” I warn. “I will scream for the guards.”
He laughs. “I like that you believe there are guards here for your protection. You realize that those men are here to keep you from escaping, right?”
I lift my chin. “I don’t think they will like you touching me.”
He cocks a brow, infuriatingly smug.
“That doesn’t really matter, because I sent them on an errand outside of the compound. See, I think that you and I should spend some time getting to know each other.” He leans toward me, gripping my knee so hard that it’s painful. “You’ve shown my brother a good time. Now it’s my turn.”
“Stop,” I warn him, backing away. “I haven’t shown anybody anything, and I don’t want you to touch me.”
He climbs to his feet, dusting himself off. “Do you think that matters to me? It only makes me want to make it fucking hurt, you stupid little slut.”
My heart begins to hammer incredibly fast. I need to run.
There is a second where I try to measure the distance down the stairs, try to figure out how I can play the angles to my advantage. I take a second too long to decide to run down the stairs, and he’s already moving toward me as I start to turn.
I only make it a few steps when he catches the back of my dress, ripping the fabric a little. I scream as he grabs me by the arm, spinning me around. I lose my balance and fall backwards. He doesn’t stop me, but instead surges forward so that we both land in the hard-packed dirt that lines the steps.
I hit the ground with a smack, and he lands on top of me. My legs part, cushioning him, cradling his big body. For a second I’m paralyzed by the fact that I hit my head on the ground. I blink up at Damen, my mouth open a little, dazed.
His weight on my body is undeniable, but it’s so surreal to me that I’m lying here on the ground, beneath a strange man.
Damen doesn’t pull any punches. While I’m frozen, he’s already shoving my shift up my legs and unzipping his pants. I catch a glimpse of his penis, long and thick and veiny.
It’s only then that reality is kick started for me once more, and I start to scream and struggle.
“No! No, don’t touch me!” I yell, my hands scratching at his face.
He laughs, very low and sinister, and grabs me by the hair. “You talk too damn much.”
“No!” I scream again, but it is muffled by his mouth on mine, his tongue invading my mouth.
I can feel his hard penis pressed against my thigh, oozing some sort sticky fluid. He thrusts violently against my thighs and sticks his tongue down my throat. I choke and gasp for breath as I keep fighting against him. Even though the voice in the back of my head is saying that it’s no use, that anyone as big as he is will win every time, I still struggle.
“No!” I cry as he tries to get my thighs open. He wrestles with me, yanking my hair. I scream at the pain of it.
“You think you’re too good for my cock, huh? We’ll see who wins,” he grunts. “You’ll take everything I have
to give you, and you’ll thank me for it. That’s what good girls do.”
He shoves his free hand down between my legs and puts three of his cool fingers into my vagina, which makes me cry out again. At the blunt brutality of it, at the suddenness and shock I feel. He scissors his fingers into my most sensitive flesh, making me worried that he will somehow tear me apart.
A strangled sound of shock comes from my throat as he leans forward and shoves his tongue down my throat again. I bite down on his tongue as hard as I can, which seems to surprise him. He reels back and then punches me in the side of the head. Everything goes blurry. I feel a white wave of pulsing agony spreading out from the middle of my head, covering my skull and even my shoulders.
I hear a voice in the distance, calling out. A male…
No, not just any voice.
Monster’s voice.
He is screaming at Damen in their mother tongue, ripping Damen away from me. Damen responds, angry. Monster pushes Damen and gets in his face, but I don’t care for their argument. My mind is too busy spinning its wheels, trying to piece together what has just happened to me.
I curl up in a ball, pulling the tattered pieces of my dress back together. A broken sob escapes me as I try to protect my head and my violated body the best I can.
“Fucking cunt,” Damen screams, spitting in my direction. “I hope that you need my help soon, brother. I can’t wait to deny you, like you have denied me.”
“I brought her. I get to claim her first,” Monster says, infuriated.
My blood runs cold at the idea that Monster is only saving me so that he can do the exact same thing to me.
Damen sneers, spits at me again, and then storms off. Monster looks over at me on the ground, his chest heaving. I shiver and close my arms around my legs, squeezing my eyes closed.
I expect Monster to just leave me here, to storm off angrily. But he doesn’t. Instead, he picks me up as carefully as if I am made of glass, cradling me in his arms.
He doesn’t say a word. He just heads inside the mansion, his expression set in a determined grimace. I let myself lean into him a little, let myself cry against his starched button up shirt.
