I stand there and watch unable to move.
But as much as this hurts, there’s one thing I know about myself. I know that I’m not going to accept this as the end.
I’m a fucking stubborn bitch. Never have been anything other than that.
I’m the woman who killed a man on her wedding night. I am the woman who endured the oubliette and came out alive. I’m the woman who learned to love Luca Ungur.
I can do anything.
Chapter Twenty-One
Luca
“My sister will find me! I promise you that. She will come here and slice the two of you up, limb from limb.” Ivana, the pitiful one of the two hollers at me from a mere six feet away, ropes binding her wrists together, tied to the iron bars of the oubliette.
Migual stands behind me, with his body leaning against the far wall as he looks onto the rabid creature of a woman. “I highly doubt it. We’re tucked away in an extremely secure location,” Migual informs her while he rolls his eyes. He gives me a look that only tells me he wishes I would’ve walked up to Elena in London. She was right there, but . . . fuck, I can’t explain it. I want her back, but I’m not a dumb man, I know there is no reason she’d ever want me again. I forced her out and for her own sake I hope she ran so fucking far we wouldn’t ever land our eyes on one another again.
Instead of replying with a blunt response, I turn and keep my attention focused on the woman in front of me. Meanwhile, the distinctive sound of Oxfords hitting the floor signal that Migual is heading up the stairs.
I walk forward into the oubliette and go to where the shower is, seeing the buckets filled with water that Migual prepared for me. “Why did you try and kill them all?” I question. I already know what drives these two women to be as crazy as they are. However, Ivana doesn’t know that I know.
“You would never understand,” She seethes, clenching her jaw, trying to lunge at me like a beast. It seems fitting that she’s in a cage.
I take a seat on the bed last occupied by my dear wife, Elena, and run my hands along the sheets as I focus on my new prisoner. “You’d be surprised the lengths I understand,”
“You? You’re one of them.”
I chuckle lowly. Gosh, what a woman who had the ideals to take us all down doesn’t even realize. “Yes, I am. But I almost wasn’t. You see, my brother was chosen to be head of our Clan. But . . . I’m assuming you already know that. My father had chosen my younger brother to head our Clan, going against tradition, but it was voted and approved by the other families. When Mariana came back, she approved it. It was one of the first things she did as our queen.”
“Is there a point here? You’re beginning to bore me.”
Ah, this one has a bit of spirit it seems. “The point is, you should know who you’re speaking to. I’m the man who didn’t even flinch as my wife stabbed my brother right in front of my very eyes. She took care of my problem for me, and that is my point. You’d be surprised what people are capable of. I never really gave a fuck about the Clans before her. I only wanted the power that came with the title.” I say, watching her brows furrow. I don’t even know why the fuck I’m telling her any of this shit. Maybe I want her to understand me the way Elena did, to find some sort of carbon copy . . . and now I’m being presented with an even better idea.
My plans with this one were simple. I’d shove her face into the water multiple times, almost to the point of her dying, and then pull her back out. Repeating the process over and over until she begged for mercy, pleaded with me to either kill her or allow her to live. While my mind is in deep thought, I realize I haven’t even grown an inch in my nether regions. Fuck, shit like this usually makes me as hard as a rock, and rightfully so, I love the sight of blood, or hearing women beg, plead, or any of that type of thing.
Although, as I stare at the woman across from me . . . I see potential in her. She’s feisty, maybe even just as much of a wildcard as my wife, and if I’m never going to see Elena again . . . I could just, well, I could have Ivana become my Elena. The same way I was trying to force Elena to be Mariana.
Standing up from the small cot, I approach Ivana, placing my right hand on the side of her cheek and pull down her jaw. “I will give you one choice, terror woman. And one choice only. Do you understand?”
Ivana nods her head back and forth, giving me the confirmation I need before I continue.
“You will be my personal fuck toy. You’ll dress how I want. You’ll dye your hair the color I want, and you’ll talk the way I want you to talk, so lose this Czech accent you have and speak like a proper Romanian woman would.”
Ivana nods again, so I pull her tattered sparkling silver dress down and reveal her naked body to me. Even looking at her now, she doesn’t do anything for me. She’s too thin, too blonde, too fucking different.
“I will be back in two hours. In the meantime, Migual will spruce you up a bit. . . to become more . . . accommodating to my tastes.”
* * *
I thought about waiting two hours, but I couldn’t just sit around and wait. I had to see what was becoming of the woman, and I gave Migual such explicit instructions. It’s not that I don’t trust him, because I do. Out of everyone in my life he’s been a constant supporter of me, no matter what I’m doing.
I leave my office, where I’ve been sipping on a chilled glass of Țuică and head down the stairs until my eyes land on Ivana, or . . . shall I call her Elena now. She looks almost exactly like her, with the darkest, most voluminous hair starting from the top of her roots, until they reach the bottom where it’s bleach blonde. While she isn’t as curvy as my wife, Ivana looks much better now. Migual put her in a deep sapphire blue dress, although I suppose it’s the only one he could find on such short notice.
There’s only one reason I’m doing this —because I haven’t been able to get my rocks off since Elena left. Every time I get somewhat close, something throws a wrench in it and I go soft like I’m a middle-aged man struggling with erectile dysfunction.
There’s just one plan I have with Ivana, to use her like I used all the women before her. To have her fill a void in me that I should’ve never let any woman burrow their place in. Elena did, and now look at me. I’m nothing but a fucking mess.
“Migual, leave.” I order, waiting for my right hand man to head up the stairs and leave me alone with my newest toy. Here’s to hoping burying myself between a look alike will somehow feel like the same thing.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Ivana
I’ve been in this house for three weeks, and while I have learned to enjoy it, most of the time I’m confined to this cage. The first time I laid my eyes on it, I knew it wasn’t something used for torture. It was something different . . . used for kinky fuckery in a way. Over my time here I’ve begun to understand what it’s used for. Luca has it as a way to get his cock hard and his rocks off.
There must be some poor, tortured part of him that loves seeing a woman get on her knees, locked in a cage like some sort of prisoner, or maybe even an animal. While I’ve figured out the cage bit, I haven’t even begun to scrape at the core of what it is about Luca Ungur that’s so interesting.
He’s different, in a way that seems tortured and sad . . . but is cruel. He hasn’t shown me how powerful he can be as of yet, although the time will come. It always does.
I just can’t help but think maybe this is my way to be involved with the Clans in some way. If we couldn’t take them down in the way our father wanted, maybe he wouldn’t be so disappointed that I’m somehow able to bring honor back to our family. I hope he’s not rolling over in his grave right now while I’m thinking about this. I’m only trying to find some hope in the situation I’ve fallen into. If I had just gotten away like Galina none of this would even matter. We would be off in some European city, planning our next move.
Yet Luca had to corner me like a rabid dog and bring me back to his home. A few times I’ve heard him groan her name while we’re intimate—Elena. If I had to guess,
he’s in love with her. Although, if he were in love with her why would I be here? I giggle to myself lightly, dismissing the thought he would ever be in love with that woman. I already know the answer. He must be in love with me.
However, I don’t want to be in love with him. What I want is a marriage that will be mutually beneficial and integrate my family back into the Clans we were so rudely exiled from. I can weasel my way in, and maybe even act as a trojan horse and dismantle them from the inside. A secret weapon of sorts.
The clicking of expensive shoes against the floor greet me and I glance up to the stairwell to see a shadow slowly coming down. So, I open a button in the dark plum blouse Luca bought me yesterday and hope he’ll enjoy seeing a sexier look at my cleavage.
“Ivana,” He grumbles lowly, his eyes dark while they remain focused on the ground.
Something about him is different today, darker than usual. “Luca,” I respond, paying close attention to his mannerisms.
“In all this time you haven’t asked me the one question every woman has before you. They always wonder the same thing—when they’ll get out of this hell hole. Let me be clear, the only way to get out is to love me, and I’ll give you the smallest time frame of all. You have thirty days.”
To love him? He can’t be serious. “Why must we be in love? Why not become married and become the most powerful couple of the Clans, that is what you want, is it not?” I inquire, looking across the room to him with hopeful eyes.
Luca approaches the gate, slides the key in the lock and I hear the noise which indicates the scanner is being unlocked. The iron door pops open and he comes inside. With each step he takes toward me, I feel anxious, almost like my body is telling me something will happen before it does.
Luca continues walking until his chest is pressing against my breasts and he has his right hand wrapped around the back of my neck, pulling my head back a bit so I’m forced to look into his eyes. “I had love once, and I threw it away.” His tone is rough, making me feel like he’s angered by my suggestion. I need to find a way to fix this, and quickly.
“Ah, I apologize. I’m only nervous is all. I’m sure we could be in love, Luca.” I say in a hushed whisper as I glide my right hand over his forearm in a sensual manner.
He shakes his head to the left and right, “No, you see. I don’t.” Luca rips his arm away from me and backs away, going under his suit jacket and pulls something from under his jacket. I don’t recognize what it is until it’s too late.
“What’re you doing?” I ask, already knowing the answer. My heartbeat races in my chest, and I find it difficult to breathe all of a sudden.
“I can’t ever love you. I’m in love with someone else, but I let her go. Now I’ll do what I should’ve the first time my eyes landed on you.” I watch him pull the trigger, and then everything goes black.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Elena
It’s midday and I’m strolling through the bright streets of Mykonos, Greece. Over the last few weeks I’ve taken time for myself, which I haven’t done in . . . far too long. I picked Mykonos because the city is known for it’s beautiful scenery and welcoming arms. In my time here I haven’t met kinder people in all of my life.
The buildings are a matte white, with a cerulean blue painted on the porches, railings and doors. Whenever you see photographs of Greece, this is what you expect —this style. Glancing down at the gray and white stone streets I smile to myself, feeling lighter than I ever have. I’m wearing a deep garnet red chiffon dress, and it blows with every gust of wind, but I don’t mind. It’s refreshing in it’s own way.
I continue forward and go until I reach the small family owned bed and breakfast I’ve been staying at. The couple that owns this is in their mid-thirties with two small children. I should add they’re curious kids, always asking questions. At this point, I’ve given them a kid-friendly version of my life story.
No one is at the small counter they have positioned in the front, so I walk through the archway and go out into their courtyard which divvies up the multiple units they have here. I chose one on the west side so I could be back to see the sunset every day.
I grab a wine glass from the counter of the bar in the room, and pull out the white wine I purchased at the market earlier this week. Within a minute, I’ve popped the cork and have poured myself a glass, heading out to the porch.
My view is magnificent, overlooking the deep blue sea, and watching it change color as the sun begins to set. A coral hue covers the vast ocean, sand and even the hotel I sit in. Bringing the dry wine to my lips I take a sip and revel in the happiness I’ve found for myself.
When I left London I felt defeated—like I’d lost. Yes, we might’ve stopped the bombs from going off, but I don’t mean in that sense. When it comes to saving innocent lives we were successful, minus the capture of Galina, because she slipped away from Stefan’s men. Although, Luca was able to get Ivana . . . something I still haven’t fully processed.
In all honesty, I feel as though I lost Luca, someone who isn’t perfect but is just as flawed as I am, if not more. Let’s be real, he’s a fucking mess . . . although, he’s a mess that I’ve learned to grow and understand over my time with him. A monster of a man that’s shown me his kindness, and even though it was rare, it was just enough to open my heart to him.
I bring the wine to my lips and take another sip, enjoying the tastes of lemon, white peach and I think even a bit of apple as I swallow. I’ve always enjoyed alcohol, but as I’ve been here, I’ve learned to accompany food dishes with the perfect wine pairing. For instance, with beef I prefer a dark, dry red because it compliments it. Or if I’m eating something chocolate, I prefer the same. However, if I’m eating fish I’d rather have a sweeter white wine over the dry wine I’m drinking right now.
I’m pulled out of my thoughts as my phone starts to ring from inside my room. For a moment I debate on whether or not I’m going to get it, but I end up leaving the beautiful sunset to see whoever it is that’s calling me. I’ve barely had any contact with anyone from the outside world. That is, unless they’re in Greece.
“Hello?” I answer, not looking at the caller ID.
“Miss Elena, it’s Migual.” He didn’t have to state his name. I’d recognize it after being in the Ungur estate for so long.
“Migual . . . I’m shocked you’re calling me. Is everything okay?” If he’s calling, something must’ve happened.
“I . . . I wish I could say it is, but it isn’t. I’m risking everything by even being on the phone with you, but, in my heart I feel as though you are the woman of the house. You are married to Luca, and therefore you are my boss too, in a way.”
I’ve never heard Migual sound so . . . worried. It only further confirms for me that something has happened. “What’s going on, Migual?”
“There’s been an incident, Miss Elena. One that I believe requires you to come home.” Home?
“I was kicked out from my home by my husband, or do you not recall that day.” I state, seething with anger. My frustration isn’t directed at Migual of course, but Luca.
“I know Miss Elena, and I’m terribly sorry for what transpired that day . . . but I think you need to come home.”
“Why do I need to come home? Luca has his plaything Ivana to be fucking around with.” I retort.
I wait for some sort of response, but nothing is said for far too long.
“What happened, Migual?” I question him, wanting him to just spit it out and let me know what I might be walking into.
“Ivana is here . . . but, she’s um . . . indisposed at the moment.”
I can read through the lines very clearly. “Fuck, I’ll get there as soon as I can.”
* * *
I was able to make it back to Luca’s home in a mere three hours. Migual had called to let me know he charted a helicopter to bring me back home, and gave me a location to meet it at in Mykonos. So, I had quickly gathered up my belongings and said my goodbyes to the lov
ely couple who so graciously allowed me to stay.
Now, I’m standing in front of the double doors of the Ungur estate, determined to walk through those doors with the most confidence I’ve ever had in my entire fucking life. Placing one foot in front of the other, I begin to walk into my home as Migual called it. After I open the door I go to the one place my gut is telling me I need to —the oubliette.
Heading down the stairwell, I ensure to keep the thick skin I consider as body armor and prepare for anything. Once I hit the bottom step, I look up to see the iron door is open and in it lies the lifeless body of Ivana, laying in a pool of blood. But she doesn’t look like herself.
I approach her body slowly, seeing how her hair was dyed from her natural blonde to my exact shade. Her lips are bigger, which indicates Luca had her get fillers . . . but why? To make them more voluminous like mine? It doesn’t make sense, not when he’s so infatuated with Mariana. That’s the woman he’s obsessed with and loves more than anyone else.
Or . . . is she?
Feet hitting the steps indicates someone is rushing down the stairwell, and I turn to find mine and Migual’s eyes meeting at the exact same moment. “Miss Elena, it’s so lovely to have you back.”
I don’t reply, instead just giving a nod in response. It doesn’t feel great to be back. Not yet, and I’m not sure if it will.
“Migual . . . why did you ask me back here?”
He purses his lips together for a moment, before giving me the most ridiculous excuse I’ve ever heard. “I was hoping you could help me dispose of her body and clean up the mess your husband has created.”
Rolling my eyes, I walk over to Migual with my heels hitting the stone floor with anger coursing through my veins. “That’s bullshit. You’ve been cleaning up Luca’s messes for years. Why ask me back when you don’t need my help. Why Migual, and don’t give me a bullshit excuse again.”
Heretic: The Clans Book Ten Page 13
