by Leah Holt
“No,” he snapped, cocking his head up. “You have to return what's not yours.” His eyes danced inside his head, flashing with the true evil he held inside. “Give. Her. Back.”
“I don't remember telling you your options, let me finish.” Leaning into the desk, I met his buried threats head on. “One—you pay what you owe us, and I'll think about returning her to you. Two—you let me buy her from you, you let me take her off your hands, and then you pay my father so he doesn't kill you.”
“No.” Flapping his hand, he waved me away immediately. “Those are shit options, Dante, and I don't think your father agreed to them either.”
“It's because of you that we even have her, Remo. My father could give two shits about what happens to her, all he wants is what's his. And . . .” Pausing so he could let every word sink into his small useless excuse for a brain, I eyed him under heavy lids. “All I want is what's yours.”
“Don't you touch her, Dante. Do you know what I've done for your father? Do you know why I know he wouldn't dare keep what's mine?”
“I don't fucking care. What I do know is that without my father, without our business, you'd be done, Remo.” Slamming a finger into the desk, I leaned in closer. “What you did for him couldn't even stand up to what he's done for you. You're lucky he hasn't killed you yet.”
Remo's eyes lit up, his smile growing and pinning against his ears like he had earned it. “You're a pathetic excuse for a Pisani, your father would be infuriated if he saw the way you were talking to me.” Pushing his hands into the desk with all his weight, he shifted in his seat. “Give me back my Celia, Dante.”
“Well your Celia is now my Ivy. And let me tell you she tastes delicious, she's so sweet I can't get her flavor off my tongue.” Licking my lips, I winked and ran a finger under my nose, taking in a deep breath. “I think she's still there, you want to tell me if I'm right?” Holding out my hand, I bounced it in his face. “Do you smell her? Is that the scent you remember?”
“Don't you touch her, don't you lay a finger on her!” Remo jumped from his seat, his feathers all ruffled and red. I hit him where it hurt, just like I knew it would. “I want her back, she's mine, I paid a lot of money for her, Dante, too much for someone like you to taint her with even your smell. When I get her back she better not even have the faintest hint of you on her skin or I'll kill her right there.”
“Get our money and we'll talk. No money, no girl, it's that simple.”
His cheeks puffed up, turning cherry red, the steam practically pouring from his nostrils in waves of thick ocean fog. “If you even—”
Standing slowly, I snapped my back square, cutting him off. “If I even what?” Leaning over the desk, I laid my massive hands down. “What, Remo?”
Pursing his lips, he growled under his breath. “I need some time to get your money, Dante.”
“One week.”
“Are you fucking with me? That's not long enough. I don't have that kind of money laying around.”
Holding up a single finger, I repeated my words. “One week.” Flicking his tie, I watched his body shudder. “And if you pay, I'll think about giving her back.”
Leaving him to worry about his lost virgin, I couldn't stop the grin from forming when I turned away.
The asshole had no clue that he would never lay another finger on her.
I claimed her, I took her, I made her mine.
And her virginity . . .
That was mine too.
Sixteen
Ivy
The key was right there, shining like it was coated in gold. But I didn't want to touch it at first, the idea was foreign. I had grown used to the ornate jewelry that clung to my skin; it was safety in a sick comforting way.
There was help in that lock and chain, an escape that I couldn't explain. The chain kept me here, but it also kept me protected from the one man I despised with every inch of my body.
Dragging my finger over the edge, it felt cold and hot to the touch. I wanted to pick up, I really did . . .
But what will I do once this weight is gone?
Do I take off and risk getting lost?
Do I run and risk getting caught?
Dante said he'd understand if I ran, he told me which way to go. But I couldn't bring myself to physically lift the key to free myself.
Stroking the shiny metal, my chest tightened with worry. If I unlocked the chain, and escaped from these walls, where would I go?
Remo would find me, he'd kill me, then he'd kill my family anyway. And if he didn't find me first, Bane would.
My fate still ended with me getting buried six feet under.
But not with Dante, he kept me whole.
Taking a deep breath, I curled my fingertips over the end, letting the small object sizzle in my palm. This was what I wanted, it was what I had begged him for.
And now that it was sitting so delicately in my hand, I had no idea what to do with it. Twisting it in the light from the window, it cast glowing beams against the plain walls, dancing anticipated freedom in quick bursts of bright flashes.
Trust.
Trust.
I needed to trust Dante was telling me the truth, that he didn't want me to die, that he was going to do anything to keep me alive.
He left the key hoping he could trust I wouldn't flee, that I would still be here when he got back.
And that's what I decided I would do.
I'd stay because I was safer in here than out there.
I'd stay because I wanted to.
This was my choice.
Bending my ankle into my thigh, I turned the lock until its cavern was sitting on top. The opening was thin, its mouth begging for me to give it a meal. The meal that would forever end its hunger, a key to make it whole.
Pushing the end into the opening, I twisted until I heard the soft metallic clank. The curved rim popped, and a sharp pain ignited in my chest. My ribs were tight, eyes darting around waiting for someone to jump from some hidden corner to punish me for actually doing it.
But no one came.
Letting the chain slip off my ankle, there was still an imaginary imprint of it on my skin. I could still feel it there, holding me in place. I didn't leap off the bed in joy or flop to the floor and cry in happiness.
No, none of those emotions came.
I was still sitting in fear and uncertainty. I wasn't free in the true sense of the word, I was still bound to the hand of Remo, bound to the gun of Bane.
Death had stared me in the face, taunting me in a game of peek-a-boo, and I couldn't ignore it. Until I knew that none of these men were standing outside the door, waiting for me to surface just to finish me off, I couldn't be happy.
Rubbing the dents on my ankle, I listened for any sounds downstairs. Reality was a hard thing to find in my situation.
My mind was full of thoughts and images. They raced around my head making me wonder what horrible thing was coming next. Whose face would emerge from behind the door, whose eyes would engulf my body if I took one step out of that room.
Nothing had been what it was supposed to be. And it took seeing it, living it, and feeling it, to know it was real.
Ivy, you're stronger than this.
You can be saved, you can out live this nightmare.
Swinging my legs off the bed, I danced the tip of my toes over the floor. It felt different, not nearly as cold as it had been every time before now. The wood was warm, inviting me to enjoy the flurry of movement.
Holding the edge of the mattress, I pressed up, my head automatically snapping to the door. Waiting.
One breath, one blink; nothing.
The door was still sealed, the quiet house making soft noises as the wind shuffled around its exterior.
Stepping to the window, I pulled back the curtains and looked out at the driveway. It was empty. The impressions of tires were visible in the gravel, but the vehicle was gone.
Letting my feet find themselves again, I walked to the door. Resting my ha
nd against the barrier, I pushed my ear into the wood.
I'm alone. I have to believe I'm alone.
Holding the knob, I turned it as slowly as I could. My chest was on fire, nerves spiraling around my body and making me feel weak. I was scared, unsure, tempted to just crawl back to my safety and pretend the lock never came off.
It was sad how much I wanted to believe that Dante was going to do what he said; but how do you believe when your life has been solidified in lies.
I was trained to think that nothing was ever as it seems, that evil overpowered good, and what I wanted didn't matter.
Gripping my wrist, I felt the old scars that were hidden against my skin. The rope that damaged my body had done more than just keep me stagnant.
It was a reminder.
A reminder of what my life would be, it was a reminder of who owned my body.
And a reminder that I was never in control.
Poking my head out into the hall, I felt a draft bellow up and braid its fingers through my hair. It was a sensation that brought me comfort, to feel the uplift of something that flowed so freely but had no voice.
I was a lot like the air.
And it was sad.
Air was all around us. But it lacked all the same things I did.
It didn't get to choose where it went, it was told where to go. It was invisible, unappreciated, and taken for granted.
If mother nature desired to beat the air, she would. She could force the air to spill its blood on others, and take away its power to help.
Remo had stolen who I was, and turned me into a voiceless apparition of myself. His hand told me my options, his hand told me my punishments. He had made himself my mother nature.
There was nothing I could do. There was no place for me to go.
I had no choice.
Until now.
The surge of finally feeling like my body was no longer tied to the one man who bought it was euphoric.
With Dante, I could speak, I could eat, I could live again.
I had the urge to explore and be curious, I wanted to learn and observe my surroundings. But not to try and escape.
I wanted to indulge myself in mystery and figure out more about the man who claimed to be dangerous, but showed me sympathy.
Looking around the hall, I saw another door just off to my left. It was partially open and calling my name.
Tip toeing over, I barely touched it with my fingertips to nudge it open. The room was dark and had a musty scent. The air was thick and dense.
This room is filled with sadness.
Running my hand over the wall beside me, I found the switch and flicked it on. The glow from above ignited in a gray dust ball, encasing the room in a white haze. As the dust cloud settled and my eyes adjusted to the bright light, I was able to see that this room was very different from the rest.
There were pictures hanging on the walls, furniture that held age and showed wear like it had been used. A small desk was tucked under a boarded up window, the top was still tousled in papers and books as if whoever used it last just got up and never came back.
A large king size bed jetted out into the middle of the room. Slowly I stepped to the bed, letting my toes dig in and enjoy the soft carpet.
I couldn't stop staring at how intricate the frame was. Huge posts came out of each side, almost touching the ceiling. The wood was dark like a chestnut or mahogany. But it was the designs that kept me staring. Each one had spirals cut and etched into it, small leaves were scribbled around like vines had grown into the wood and turned to fossils.
I was awe struck. Confusion sat in the front of my mind, making me wonder why the hell this room was so well preserved, and the rest of the house was empty.
Standing at the desk, I found several small frames with aged and weathered pictures. The images were covered in a thick layer of dust, the once glossy photos now warped and tarred in orange stains.
Picking up the first one, I blew off the dust and rubbed it clean with my thumb. Holding it closer, I inspected the people.
It was two men and a woman. Both men were dressed in tailored suits, a cigar clenched in their teeth, and arms resting over each other’s shoulders. The woman was in a deep blue ball gown, the tail flowing out to her side and wrapping around her ankles in the front.
Her hair was pulled up tight, a huge cascade of pearls lined her neck, one arm draped over the guy on the right. She looked happy, enjoying whatever moment was captured right then.
The smile of each man was giant and not forced. As I examined closer, I realized that I knew who both men were. The years between the photo and now had taken their toll, but there was no mistaking it.
It was Remo and Bane.
“You found your way out.”
Jumping, my hands released the picture and dropped it onto the desk top. “Dante, you scared me.” Picking up the frame, I checked it over. “Good, it didn't break.”
“I'm glad you're still here. I was pretty sure I'd come back to an empty house and you'd be long gone, on your way to protective custody and a witness protection program.” Slumping his shoulder into the door frame, his thumbs jerked from his pockets as he shrugged.
“Yeah well . . . It took me a little while to get the lock off.”
“Really? You don't strike me as the type of girl who can't figure out a lock.”
“It wasn't that . . .” Pausing, I felt the same worry about leaving flood my veins. “But I got it off eventually.”
His big brown eyes examined me. It was like he was trying to read my mind, figure out why the lock had been difficult. Darting my gaze back to the picture, I didn't want him to figure it out. I didn't want him to know how uncomfortable it was for me to actually unlock myself.
There was no point in letting him into my troubled brain, sharing my feelings about leaving that room, and being free from my leash.
If he knew then there was a chance he'd lock me back up, that he'd enjoy the idea of me being at his mercy and under his spell.
I wanted to change the subject, that turmoil was just for me. “Who's this?” I asked, tilting the picture in the light.
“You don't know?” Angling his head, he rested it against the doorframe.
“I know who these two are,” I said, pointing to Remo and Bane. “But the woman, who's the woman?”
“That's my mother.”
“She's beautiful.” Glancing back down, I ran a finger over her face.
“She was.”
“Was?” As my eyes met his, my mind made sense of what he was saying. “I'm sorry,” I said immediately, filling with sadness for his loss.
“It's okay, it was a long time ago. Seventeen years . . . Wow, it's been seventeen years. Shit, that's crazy to think about.”
I felt sorry for him, to have lost his mother at a young age must have been horrible. “I didn't realize your father and Remo went back so far.”
Stepping into the room, he stood behind me and looked over my shoulder. I could feel the weight of his chest against my spine and the heat off his muscles as they pulsed under his clothes.
His closeness hit me, sending goosebumps over my arms and making my body heat and chill in one rapid beat.
It felt good to have him there, it felt incredible to feel so small and so protected.
“Yeah, they go back years. But it's not a good thing, and it hasn't been for a really long time.”
Arching a brow, I looked up at him from over my shoulder. “But they work together, it can't be that bad? Can it?”
“Ivy, you know who we are.” Stroking his hands firmly down my shoulders, he cupped my belly. “And nothing with my family is ever a good thing.”
“But they look happy here, there had to be a time where it was good, right?” Tightening my grip around the picture, I looked back down at it. “You don't smile like that if it's bad.”
“Smiles only last so long, those smiles ended that night, and they never came back.” Digging his fingers into my hips, he turned
me around, pulling me closer into his chest. “My life has been nothing but pain and violence, Ivy. Smiling in my family hasn't ever been the same, not since that night.”
“I don't understand.”
Dante dragged his thumb over his jaw, eyes snapping up to the ceiling. “It doesn't matter now, that was a long time ago, and things have settled . . . Mostly.”
My heart was pounding, pulse speeding up as his heart raced against my chest. I could feel him living it all over again through his body, through his emotions. But on the outside, he was completely calm, hiding what he was truly feeling.
“Dante, you don't have to pretend you're not hurt. You don't have to act like these bad things are nothing and are normal. Because they're not.” Resting my hand over his heart, I felt the muscle beat like a drum. “You feel it and no matter how much you try and act like it doesn't matter, your body is telling me that's a lie.”
Taking a step back, he lifted my hand to his lips and kissed the back of my palm. “It's in the past, you can't change the past.” Squeezing my hand harder, he braided our fingers together, holding a gentle smile. “So, did you explore anywhere else in the house?”
His smile was intoxicating, even if it was uncomfortable and forced to move past the conversation. I could tell it was something that he didn't do every day, but it made me happy to see he could.
“No, I only made it in here. This room is like a time capsule, it's like it hasn't been touched in ages.”
“That's because it hasn't been.” Sitting on the edge of the bed, he tugged me in between his legs, wrapping his arms around my waist. “That dress, the one you were so curious
about . . .”
“What about it?” Stroking his hair, I played with the tips and ran my fingers around his ears.
“That was my mother's, this was my parents room a really long time ago. The night she died, my father sealed it off.” Pressing his cheek into my chest, he spoke softly. “I'm glad you decided to stay.”
That answer made sense. It was truth, it was one puzzle piece in the thoughts my mind was sorting through.
