Dirty Addiction

by Ella Miles

  “Because you owe me. And I know your little secret.”

  “What secret is that?”

  “You just told me to trust the rumors. And the rumors are Arlo fell in love with the last slave the family brought home. He’s run off with her.” He cuts his eyes to me. “I have a feeling this new slave has a lot to do with fixing your little problem. But she doesn’t appear too broken to me. Let me have my fun, I might be able to help you, and I’ll promise to keep your secret.”

  Matteo growls and grabs Armas by the collar of his shirt. “Don’t threaten me. You know what I’m capable of.”

  “Not threatening, simply offering my assistance.”

  Paul, one of Matteo’s men, enters the room.

  “Sorry to interrupt. There has been another attack,” Paul says.

  “I’ll be right there,” Matteo says, dismissing Paul.

  He waits until Paul has disappeared before he gets up from the table and jerks Armas back in the chair.

  “Babysit her for me, I have to go,” Matteo says, walking away.

  I watch him walk away from me, and I’m not sure whether to be happy or terrified. With each step he takes, I think he’s going to stop, turn around, and tell Armas to go to hell. I think he’s going to say I’m his slave and no one else has permission to touch me. Matteo isn’t the kind of man who can share easily. He likes being in control.

  But he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t turn around. He doesn’t say another word. He leaves me alone with a man who claims to be his friend, but from the short exchange I witnessed, I know he is anything but his friend.

  Matteo’s gone, and I’m left with a man who is a stranger. I don’t know what he wants from me. I don’t know what drives him. I don’t know what his weaknesses are. I don’t know anything about him. I need to tread carefully.

  “How long have you known Matteo?” I ask, trying to make light conversation. It might give me some clue to who he is and how to survive until Matteo gets back or better yet, escape.

  He smirks. “Since the day I was born. Our families are both rich, old, and know each other well.”

  “So you sell weapons too?”

  He chuckles. “No, we only meddle with legal things. Our family sells wine.”

  “So you aren’t as rich since you don’t do illegal things?”

  His eyes narrow. “I guess not.”

  “Are you and Matteo truly friends? Because it seems there is more to your friendship than either of you are saying.”

  “Does it matter if we are friends or not?”

  I shrug. “No reason. I might be able to help you if you are more enemies than friends.”

  He leans across the table with a smirk on his face. “Oh, yea? And how could you help me?”

  “I’ve been here a month or two now, and I’ve overheard plenty of secrets I’m sure could help you take Matteo down.”

  He laughs. “No secrets I don’t already know.”

  “I know his weaknesses. It’s how I’ve ensured he hasn’t touched me or hurt me.”

  He leans back in his chair again and folds his arms across his chest while he raises an eyebrow. “Really? He has a slave he never uses?”

  I nod. “He is using me to get his brother back. Help me escape, and you’ll cause him more pain than you can imagine.”

  He stands up and walks around the table to my side and leans against the edge of the table.

  “I have a better idea.”

  I bite my lip and tuck my matted hair behind my ear. “And what’s that?”

  “I’ll fix his problem.”

  I narrow my eyes not understanding until I see the gleam in his eyes. His eyes darken, his grin widens, and he licks his bottom lip like he’s about to devour the most delicious meal he’s ever tasted.

  “I’m going to rape you.”

  7

  Eden

  Rape.

  I’ve known it was a possibility since Matteo forced me onto his private plane, but I always thought I would be strong enough to stop it from happening. I’ve taken self-defense classes. I’m smart and know how to find people’s weak points and exploit them. I thought I would be able to escape long before anyone even attempted to rape me.

  Matteo thought about raping me. I saw the glimmer in his eyes every now and again. He couldn’t do it, or at least I don’t remember him doing it. Something held him back. I can’t rely on the same thing happening with Armas. I don’t know him, but from the way he’s devouring me, I think he’s far more evil than Matteo has ever pretended to be.

  I swallow hard.

  “You’re not going to rape me.”

  His grin widens. “You’re a spitfire, huh? I’m going to enjoy this.”

  “No, you’re going to be sitting with a bag of ice on your balls for a week, recovering from your wounds.”

  He purses his lips together as he studies me up and down. I don’t look like much, not in my weakened state, but it doesn’t matter. Let him think I’m delicate and incapable of anything; it will only make it easier for me to escape.

  I have to take him down. Matteo is gone, along with all of his men, dealing with whatever latest attack. If I can get past Armas, then I might be free.

  I try to decide if I should wait for him to grab me or strike first. My blood is pumping, already full of adrenaline. My legs bounce, and my mouth dries. I feel the fear, but mostly the excitement, at the possibility of being free.

  Free.

  I never thought I would be begging to be released. I never thought I would have to struggle for it, but that’s what I’m going to do. And when I gain it back, I’m going to fight every day to ensure every other innocent, kidnapped person is freed and stays that way.

  I can’t wait for Armas to try and take even more from me. I have to run. Now.

  I ball my hand into a fist, and then I jab it forcefully into his neck as hard as I can. My arms are weaker than usual, but the adrenaline and determination make up for the disability.

  He grabs his throat as he struggles to breathe.

  I jump out of my chair and start running. I don’t shoot out the back of the house. I know what awaits me back there. An immense forest and rolling hills that lead nowhere. I’d be sprinting for days to get to anyone who could help me. I don’t have the strength to flee more than a few hours at best.

  Instead, I race toward the other side of the house, which leads out to the garage. I need a car if I have a chance to escape.

  My legs stumble as I run, like they are going to give out at any moment, but I don’t let the fear of falling consume me. Instead, I allow it to drive me forward. I let it fill me.

  The fear of failing. The fear of giving up. The fear of what would happen if Armas caught me. The fear of what will happen to Nina if I don’t stop Matteo from finding her. I let it all fuel me to make my legs move faster.

  I don’t know if it’s enough. I know I’m not quicker than Matteo. Armas appears fit. He doesn’t look like he’s had a day of manual labor, unlike Matteo who gets his hands dirty protecting his business on a daily basis. Armas is used to sitting in a corporate office building, away from the action. Hopefully, my fitness will be enough to outrun him.

  I don’t turn around or glance behind me to see if I’m right. I keep moving, running fast.

  I haven’t been to the garage. I don’t know if Matteo keeps the keys in the cars or nearby. I don’t even know how many cars he has in the garage, or if there are any left, but it’s my only hope.

  I turn down another hallway and see the door at the end that I think leads to the garage.

  I can make it.

  My feet carry me faster as I fly down the hallway. I grab the door, hurl it open, and flip the light on.

  I pause for a single breath when I see more than a dozen cars in the expansive garage. I’m clueless when it comes to cars. I don’t know how expensive they all are or how fast they go. I run to the nearest one and fling the door open, begging for the keys to be inside.

  Please, please, p
lease.

  The car doesn’t have a spot to slide the key in. Instead, it has a button you use to start the car. I have no clue where to search to see if there is a key somewhere in the car or not.

  I push the button and exhale deeply when the engine roars to life.

  I press the clicker at the roof the car, and the garage door opens.

  I step on the gas and speed out of the garage, clipping the side mirror of a black car parked near the exit.

  I remember the long driveway that leads off the property and I know I’m not anywhere near safety yet, but getting the car makes me feel unstoppable. There is nothing Armas can do at this point to stop me.

  The driveway curves and I see Armas. He’s standing in the middle of the driveway, his red sports car sits behind him parked sideways across the gravel. Hundred-year-old oak trees line both sides of the road.

  He’s blocking my exit. There is no way out, except to run him over.

  I smirk.

  I don’t have a problem killing him if it means my freedom. I’ll hit him with my car first. Then I’ll take his car if that is what I need to do to get out of here.

  I step firmly on the gas making my intentions known. Armas can move or get killed.

  He turns to his car, opens the back door, and grabs a woman by the arm, jerking her out. He holds her by the arm next to him in front of his car.

  I squint trying to get a better look at the woman and realizing it’s one of the cooks. She made me breakfast most days. She probably has a family; people that love and depend on her.

  Shit.

  I keep my foot on the gas, hoping if I play chicken with him long enough he’ll move her out of my path. As my car inches closer, I know in my heart, he won’t. I’ll have to run them over and kill them both if I want a shot at getting free.

  Damn it. Damn it. Damn it. I hit the steering wheel trying to figure out what I should do.

  I swerve the car just before I hit them, stomping on the brake. The car doesn’t stop. I was going too fast.

  I squeeze my eyes shut, not wanting to see the tree the car is about to crash into.

  My body slams forward, the airbag deploys and launches my body backward, and the air is knocked out of me for the second time since Matteo entered my life. I’ve never been in a car accident before, and it makes me never want to ride in a car ever again.

  All I feel is pain as the airbag slowly deflates. Pain in my head, my stomach, my leg. I should get out of the car and start running, but I can’t. I can’t move, the pain is intense.

  Instead, I have to wait for Armas to come to me. I try to think of what my next plan is and how I can cause the most damage. But at the moment, I’m out of ideas. The self-defense classes I took never covered how to defend yourself against someone when you’ve spent your night drugged and were in a car accident where you couldn’t physically move.

  I hear twigs breaking and leaves crunching, his presence looming nearer and nearer.

  I close my eyes, pretending I’m anywhere but here. I’m back in my office going over a new case. Or I’m in the courtroom after winning a verdict.

  I can’t.

  I hear the door pop open, and I’m brought right back to reality.

  “Good thing I like my women feisty.”

  I gradually turn my head to him, and give him my worst death stare. “Go to hell.”

  He grins. “I think I’ll fuck you first.”

  He pushes the airbag down and reaches over me and undoes my seatbelt. He grabs my arms and starts yanking me out of the car.

  I cry out.

  “My. Leg. Is. Stuck.” Each word comes out with a cry of pain. Like somehow talking is making the torment in my leg worse.

  “Stop being dramatic and get out of the fucking car,” Armas says.

  “I can’t,” I cry again, trying to wrench my leg loose. I glance down and realize the front of the car has smashed in and trapped my leg. There is no way I’m going to be able to get it out, not without damaging my leg or something that can cut the metal.

  He grabs me by both shoulders and begins tugging me violently, trying to get me out of the car.

  I cry out again. “Stop! My leg is stuck, you idiot!”

  “I don’t give a fuck.” He pulls forcefully, and my skin scrapes across the jagged metal as he heaves me loose.

  We topple to the ground.

  I don’t wait for the agony to stop or to catch my breath. I get up and try to run. My left leg works fine, but my right leg is useless. I collapse to the ground after only a few strides.

  I’ve never broken a bone before, and I never want to again. The pain is fire, burning throughout my entire body. It overwhelms me. I can’t budge it. I can’t think. I can scarcely exist.

  I stare down at my useless limb. I have a huge gash on the top of my shin where blood is spilling out. Not fast enough I’m worried about dying, but enough to warrant going to a hospital to have it cleaned and stitched up. The laceration looks awful, but the damage is much deeper in my leg. My leg is red and swollen. Broken, possibly in multiple places.

  My eyes drift up, and Armas is standing over me. His eyes are the darkest I’ve ever seen, his lips curled up into an evil grin, and his face hot with desire.

  My arms start moving as I attempt to crawl away. It’s a useless endeavor, but I can’t lie here and let him take me.

  “You don’t give up, do you?”

  I ignore him and continue crawling away, despite every movement feeling like I’m getting thrown on a fire and then stabbed repeatedly. Who knew breaking a bone burned from the inside out?

  My head is jerked back as he grabs my hair.

  I scream.

  A tear trickles out of my eye, overcoming my effort of doing my damndest to keep in. I hate crying in front of these monsters, but crying is the least of my worries.

  He starts dragging me across the rough, gravel road. I strive to grab him to right myself and soften the aching.

  I can’t move fast enough.

  Every pebble, every rock, every stick. I feel it all. And each one is like a knife being thrust into the most sensitive parts of my body.

  If Matteo were here, I would be pleading with him to jab me with his needle and give me the drugs to knock me out and make this go away. I would rather give up control than be in this torment for one more second.

  He pauses when we get to his car. I glance around for the women whose life I saved when I swerved and hit the tree instead of her. She should be here thanking me or on the phone with the police helping to rescue me, but she is doing neither. She’s loyal to Matteo, like everyone else here is.

  My heart turns dark. I should have run her over. I should have saved myself.

  No.

  I can’t let them win. I can’t become as evil as Matteo and Armas are. I will find another way to save myself.

  He opens the back door, and tugs savagely on my hair forcing me up onto my healthy leg while my mangled leg dangles uselessly.

  “I can’t wait to get you back to my place.”

  The car ride to his house is long.

  Either because he lives far away from Matteo’s mansion or because I’m in writhing pain. But as long as it is, I wish that the car ride would never end. Because I know what is coming when the car finally stops and as much suffering as I’m in now, it will be nothing compared to the torture I will be left with when he rapes me.

  I can come back from a broken leg, but I’ve prosecuted too many rapists. I’ve met with their victims. Once brutality like that happens to you, you’re never the same. For some, it makes some of them stronger. Others debilitated and timid. Either way, it always makes them afraid. Fearing other people. Scared of the violence. Terrified of life.

  I don’t want to live life afraid of getting raped again. I’ve spent the entire trip trying to come up with a plan. Some way to escape. I’ve tried finding a way to fix my leg so that I could run, but that would be impossible even with the best of equipment. I need a doctor.

&nbs
p; I’m surprised that Armas was okay with me bleeding all over his fancy leather seats. I guess he feels kidnapping me so that he can rape me makes it worth it.

  I’ve tried thinking back to all my training about how to defend myself against an assaulter, but even if I’m able to do some damage to him, all my instruction was around the fact that I could temporarily injure my assailant while I ran away to get help.

  I can’t run.

  And there is no help coming.

  Armas may not be as rich as Matteo, but judging by the mansion buried deep in the woods that the car stopped in front of, Armas has plenty of money. Money buys loyalty and silence.

  No one is going to help me.

  Armas steps out of the car and slings my door open. I kick with my uninjured leg, trying to fend him off. Adrenaline takes over and helps with the pain.

  He seizes my leg, and I fight in his grasp. He yanks my leg, and I’m pulled out of the car. I crash to the ground, not registering much of the new pain. My head hits the door, which should add a headache to the list, but a headache doesn’t even register on my pain scale.

  “You are just what I need.”

  He smirks.

  Bile rises in my throat as he undresses me with his eyes. He’s sick.

  I won’t let him win.

  I narrow in on his crotch and kick with all my might. I hit my target, but it’s not enough.

  He laughs, a high-pitched annoying sound. He takes a step back as he snaps his fingers.

  My eyes search around him, to see who he summoned with the snap of his fingers. A butler? His dogs? I could handle either.

  Two men, in dark suits, start running toward us.

  Damn it. I can now spot a guard anywhere. Even well dressed guards.

  Both men cower by their master’s side. He glances down at me, and they both automatically reach down and clutch my arms. I try unsuccessfully to get them off for only a second before they stand me up. I balance on my good leg while I glare at Armas.