by Fawn Bailey
Once he moved away my face was flushed and I couldn't look into his eyes.
"Please, Ophelia," he said, gentler than I'd ever heard him. "Be patient. Wait for more information."
"I think that's enough."
We both turned towards the sound of the voice. Max and Michael were standing on the terrace. Max looked angry, and his father's gaze was thunderous.
"Leave," Michael roared, following up his previous words. "Leave right the fuck now."
"I have every right to be here," Ryker spoke up.
"No," his father added. "You lost that right when you decided to forsake this goddamn family."
Ryker looked at Max for support, but his brother didn't say a word. The brothers stared at one another in a silent battle, and finally, Ryker let go of me and walked away without saying another word. Michael rubbed his temples and Max walked up to me, dragging me back into the house.
"Tell them to leave," he told his father. "I want the house empty. Right the fuck now."
His father gave a simple nod and muttered something to a servant. I'd never seen Max take control like that.
Max dragged me up the stairs, but nobody seemed to notice. A hush passed over the guests, and then they all started rushing out of the house. I had a feeling something bad was about to happen, and worse yet, I knew it was going to involve me being punished for what had happened with Ryker.
I listened to the house getting emptier and empties as Max took me to the playroom. The second we were in there, he looked the door and looked at me with an expression that didn't belong on his face.
"You talking to him behind my back?" he snarled at me. "You're going to pay for that, princess."
I stared at him defiantly. Max wasn't like Ryker and much less like Kain. He was never going to hurt me, and I wasn't afraid of him in the slightest.
"I'll talk to whoever I like," I told him. "I'm going to be your wife, not your damn prisoner."
"Sometimes I wonder which one you'd prefer," he smirked at me. "Face it, little princess. You're damaged fucking goods. A psychopath's sloppy seconds. You should be lucky I took pity on you and decided to take you in. You would have ended up an old, lonely spinster if I hadn't."
Tears filled my eyes as he stepped closer, grabbing a paddle off the rack on the wall and pushing my chin up with it.
"Say I'm right," he told me darkly. "Tell me I'm your best fucking one."
I didn't say a word.
"Tell me you wanted me all along," Max taunted me. "I won't stop until I hear it."
I remained stubbornly quiet, my eyes burning into his, furiously blinking away the tears.
"Say it!" he demanded.
Nothing.
He slapped me with the paddle, the hard leather hitting my face so I dropped to my knees with a yelp. God, how it fucking stung. I thought I wouldn't be able to stop screaming from the pain. I looked up at Max with a wounded, angry look and hissed at him like a cat.
"Does that make you scared?" he asked me. "I bet it makes you wet, you little slut. You always liked it when Ryker called you that, didn't you? Maybe I should try it on for size."
I looked away when he hit me again, and my arm flew up to block the hit. I yelped again. The pain was unbearable. He wasn't trying to punish me, he was trying to break me to pieces. He was trying to make sure that I'd never come back from the mess he wanted to turn me into.
"Tell me you're scared, princess," he said. "Tell me you're afraid of me and I'll go easy on you."
I remained quiet, save for the little sobs that kept ripping themselves from my lips. I was never going to give him what he wanted. I would never submit for him. Deep down, he was still a little boy.
"Say it!" he roared, and I got up despite the unbearable pain.
"NO!" I screamed. "Never! When are you going to understand, Max? Whatever the fuck you do, I'm never going to fucking love you. And you know what the worst part is? It's not that the dungeon turned you into this. It's that I did."
I wiped away a tear furiously as he stared at me with an exasperated expression.
"And I'll never forgive myself," I whispered. "So hit me as hard as you need to. Whatever the fuck helps you get over it, Max. Whatever the fuck helps you feel human again. Because you've completely lost yourself in this... in this..."
"In this love?" he laughed bitterly. "I got lost in my love with you."
"This isn't love, Max!" I sighed, begging him to understand. "This could never have been love. It's onesided. It will never be anything more. And you should have realized that a long, long time ago... Before you wasted all this fucking time on me."
"Are you saying it's never going to work?" he asked, and he looked ten years younger.
He was the boy from my childhood, the one who held my hand and helped me over dirty puddles. The one who complimented my pretty dresses and helped me clean them after I'd messed them up playing with Ryker, so my mamochka wouldn't be mad. He was my best fucking friend. And now I'd lost him forever.
"No," I said gently. "It's never going to work, Max. And you need to accept it before it ruins everything between us even more."
"You took everything away from me," he admitted brokenly. "I was so fucking... blind. I lost my brother. I let go of everything. For you."
"But I never asked for that," I said. "I never asked for your love."
I felt like a selfish bitch, but it was the truth; the truth I'd tried to tell him so many times before it hurt me to think about them. He just refused to acknowledge that the only thing we had was friendship. He kept hoping for more and more, but I knew I could never give it to him. I hoped with time we could be friends again, but I could never be his wife. I was meant for somebody else - had been all along.
"I'm sorry," I said, and he ran his fingers through his dark hair.
I really thought he was going to cry, but when he turned to face me again, a dark shadow was on his face, tainting his handsome smile.
"You know this house is empty," he said. "There's nobody here anymore. I had Dad throw them all out."
"Yes?" I asked, confused as to where he was steering the conversation.
But as he approached me in several long, quick steps, I knew it was going to end badly.
"I could do anything I wanted to you," he snarled at me, his mouth too close to my face. "I could fucking kill you right now and blame somebody else. My dad would let me get away with it. Nobody wants you, anyway. Your family's gone. You think Ryker cares? He doesn't give a shit, princess. And that fucking psycho boyfriend of yours? He didn't even come collect you, did he?"
"He w-will," I managed to get out, and Max laughed in my face.
"He won't," he corrected me. "But I know how you crave his touch. Any touch..."
I looked away.
"I know you play with yourself at night," he whispered in my ear. "Dirty little bitch... That's why I'm not going to touch you. And if I catch you touching yourself I'm going to break every one of your limbs, you dirty little slut. You can bet on that."
He pushed me away and I stumbled back, my eyes filling with tears.
"Goodbye, Ophelia," he snarled at me, leaving me alone in the quiet room.
Chapter 18
Max
Living with Ophelia was proving to be difficult. I could barely resist her. My obsession was just as bad, if not worse, as the day I first met her - the day my brother laid claim to what would never be his.
I was supposed to meet my father that day to discuss the wedding, and I was looking forward to getting away from the house and my princess's siren charms. Yet at the same time, knowing that sick fuck Kain was still on the loose made me worry about leaving her alone and without my supervision.
I knew Ophelia thought I'd changed, and obviously, I wasn't the boy I used to be. I'd grown a thicker skin. Grown meaner, angrier. She would just have to come to terms that it was who I'd become. She should've been happy, in fact. She'd always liked Ryker for the reasons that made her despise me in the present.
I didn't let he
r know I was leaving. I left the house early and went over some papers as we drove to my parents' house. But I was distracted and it seemed impossible to focus. I was too preoccupied, too worried about everything that was going on.
I needed a way to talk to my father about Ryker.
He'd been the one to freeze him out after a scandal in which Ryker publicly denounced us as his family. It had hurt like hell, but I still didn't fully understand why he'd done it. He'd always been a bit of a black sheep, but now, he wasn't even a part of our circle anymore. My father had cut him out effectively and left me an only child. Sometimes I understood how lonely Ophelia must've felt without her family. I'd always been close with Ryker - there was something about our connection that made it impossible to sever ties. I felt I had an obligation to convince my father to let him back into our family. Perhaps today was the day I'd manage to change his mind.
My mother greeted me with one of her Pomeranian dogs in her lap. She looked even more absent than she usually did, and my heart swelled with love for her. Mom had never been the same since what happened at Ophelia's eighteenth - another reason I would never forgive that sick bastard for killing the Sokolovs. He'd scarred my mother for life, and one day, one day soon, I was going to make him pay for it.
"Your father is waiting for you in the library," Mom told me after kissing my cheek, her dog barking its stupid head off. "I'll join you for coffee later."
I nodded and headed for the library. It had always been my favorite room at this house, laden with first editions of collector's books that meant nothing to my father, but filled me with wonder as a kid. I'd always been bookish. Perhaps I would've gone on to do great things if I hadn't been locked away.
"Hello," I greeted Dad, and he looked up from the papers he'd been poring over.
He offered me a bright smile, coming over to clap me on the back. I'd always been close with my father, and the tragedy with the Sokolovs had only served to bring us closer. He was a kind man, and I trusted him implicitly.
"I thought we could go over some expenses for the wedding," he said. "And later we can take a walk around the estate. You didn't bring Ophelia?"
"Not today," I replied tersely.
"Everything alright?" Dad asked. He had a talent for seeing right through me.
"Everything is fine," I replied. "I think she's having some problems... adjusting."
"That's understandable," Dad nodded solemnly. "After what she's been through... After what you've been through. I still think you will make a wonderful couple."
I gave him a brave smile, though I wasn't so sure about that myself.
For the next couple of hours, we pored over our accounts and settled on some decisions for the wedding. It seemed a little weird that Ophelia wasn't planning it, but she seemed to have zero interest in the event, and it cut me fucking deep.
A while later, we left for the walk around the estate.
"You're going to inherit all this," my father said thoughtfully. "I know you will do an incredible job, Max."
I knew what this job involved. I'd managed to close my eyes from the truth when I was a kid, but I knew full well who my father was now.
He was a capo de famiglia - a mafia boss who ran the city, absorbing the Russian mob into our Italian family once the Sokolovs had gone. He had more power than any other man in the city, and I looked up to him despite knowing he was involved in some questionable business practices.
But like he'd always said... It was a job for a real man, and I was the only right successor to his throne.
"Dad," I said during a short silence. "I wanted to talk to you about something."
He turned to me with a jovial smile, grinning widely.
"Time for the birds and the bees talk?" he joked around, and I groaned out loud, making him laugh.
"No," I managed to get out. "It's... it's about Ryker."
His expression fell immediately, and I rushed to get the words out before he stopped me in my tracks. I felt like I owed it to my brother.
"I want him at the wedding," I admitted. "He's family, no matter what either of you says. He's my twin brother, for God's sake. I can't just cut him out."
"Not a chance in hell," my father spat out. "The boy forsake his entire family. Do you think he deserves a second chance?"
"I do," I admitted, and my mind filled with dark thoughts. "I do, Dad."
Perhaps if the slaughter of the Sokolovs hadn't happened, I would be the one to forsake my family. I was the one with the strong moral compass. I was the good cop out of the two of us.
But when I was taken, my brother suffered deeply, convincing himself it was his fault I'd been taken. I knew it wasn't true. Ophelia had condemned me to that life - and I couldn't really blame her, either. She loved Ryker. I'd known it from the day I met her.
"I want him there," I insisted. "I want him to be my best man."
"I'm your best man," Dad cut in angrily. "And I'm walking your fucking bride down the altar, in case you dared to forget."
"Dad, please," I tried to reason with him. "Maybe we can come to some sort of understanding with Ryker..."
"No," he spat out. "Leave, Max. I can't talk to you when you're acting like this."
My hands formed fists at my sides, and for the first time in my life, I thought about physically hurting my father. He was so goddamn stubborn. It was impossible to force a family reunion out of him. Still, it was my own fucking wedding. I was determined to have Ryker there, at least watching.
If I was being honest with myself, a part of me wanted him present so I could rub it in his fucking face. I knew he had feelings for Ophelia, though he'd tried to fight them for a long time. And the sibling rivalry inevitably took over when it came to her. I wanted to prove to Ryker that she was mine, now and forever.
"I'll go," I told my father, giving him a curt nod. "I'll see you soon."
He didn't respond, just stared at the landscape with a troubled expression. I'd never asked myself how difficult this must've been for him - his son denouncing us, walking away from our family name.
My thoughts were troubled on the ride home, but what anchored me was the thought of Ophelia. My pretty little princess. I felt the power surging through my body at the thought of her. I would take out all my frustrations on her shaking body once I got back. She'd never get a chance to stop me.
Once home, I ordered her to meet me in the playroom. I changed into a crisp shirt and slacks and waited for her in the room.
She walked in naked, and my anger surged. She just wouldn't fucking give up her habits. I was going to have to knock them out of her once we finally got married.
"Come here," I told her, and she approached slowly.
She was afraid of me, and I fucking loved it. I wanted to make her even more scared. Make her shiver and shake at the sight of me. It got me off so good.
"You're going to dance for me," I told her. "I won't touch you, don't worry."
The part of me that was leftover from before her party was kind, compassionate. I didn't want to hurt her that night. I just wanted to fucking humiliate her. Take out all the frustrations I had on her lithe body.
"Dance," I barked at her, and she looked up with her bottom lip trembling.
"But," she whispered, "There's no music."
"Dance," I ordered her again, and when she didn't move, I glared harder. "I said, fucking dance!"
She blushed to the roots of her hair, and slowly, her body started swaying in tune with the music that was only in her head.
I stared at her, drinking in every inch of that tight little body that was going to be mine forever. I was going to hurt her soon enough, but for now, I preferred the psychological domination over her.
She was broken enough by what Kain had done to her, and it pissed me off that I got stuck with damaged goods. But at the same time, she was Ophelia fucking Sokolov. The bratva princess, the heir to a vast fortune which she didn't even know my father had been keeping for her.
"Touch yourself," I or
dered her, and her hands started to roam her body sensually.
She could barely look at me, keeping her eyes firmly fixed on a spot behind my head as she moved in seductive, soft dance moves.
"Eyes on me," I demanded. "Look at me while I watch you."
She blinked fast before opening her eyes and looking at me. There was a trace of tears in her eyes but I didn't give a shit. I was going to do a lot worse to her than make her dance naked for me.
"How..." she whispered. "How much longer?"
"Until I get sick of it," I said, and she paled, but kept moving.
She was getting tired, but I kept forcing her to move. I told her how to dance. I told her to be sexy, to be a slut. And she did it all, without touching me fucking once.
Unbeknownst to princess Ophelia, I was playing a game with her.
I wanted Ophelia to finally, fucking finally, after all these years, to pick me.
Not my brother.
Not that sick kidnapper.
Me - the boy who had been in love with her through it all. Me - the man who would do anything in the world for her had she only showed me a sliver of her affection.
I wanted her to walk up to me, sit in my lap and kiss me. I wanted her to show any kind of initiative, show me she gave a fuck about me. But she didn't seem to know or particularly care. She kept dancing because I wouldn't let her stop. But I didn't touch her once.
After five hours, she started to weep. After seven, she started to fall to the ground. I wouldn't let her stop. Not when she tripped, not when she trembled. I made her keep fucking dancing until her pretty feet bled.
And once she wouldn't get up again, I left her crying and whimpering on the playroom floor and shut the door behind me. I leaned against the door and for the first time since I'd gotten out of the fighting ring, I prayed.
Prayed for Ophelia to love me, and know the entire time it would never come true.
She was never meant for me. I could fight it with all my might, but she would never want me.
So I decided to do the next best thing.
I decided to destroy her instead.
