She wrapped her hands around her knees. "No, I didn't. Please don't hurt him."
Tilting my head back, I laughed bitterly. "Why? You wish to fuck him?" Her neck probably burned from the leather of the belt as I squeezed her, almost choking her on her own saliva. Her wrists and ankles were bloody from the cuts, and finally, my favorite, knife wounds all over her legs, stomach, and back.
Too bad this time I really didn't have time to fuck her again.
Don and Dominic had a truce. The pakhan surprised me, but their victory wouldn't last for long.
Don Giovanni would pay for how he treated me all those years. And the pakhan would for the humiliation he inflicted on me years ago.
I just had to be smarter this time.
The smell of a pasta sauce, bolognese I suspected, penetrated my nostrils, and instant hunger overtook me.
Slowly opening my eyes, I was blinded by the bright sunlight coming through the open door. The room appeared quite blurry. The soft sound of the birds chirping floated on the light breeze that brought relief to my heated skin. My mouth was so dry I was barely able to croak, "Water." Since my head was turned to the side to hide from the light, the only thing I heard was someone dropping a pan lid, liquid pouring into a glass, then a few short, heavy steps, and the cup was near my lips as I welcomed the cooling sensation and hydration my body cried out for. "Slowly," said the same soft, male voice from the other times I woke up, and then he took the cup away and a cold cloth swept over my face, removing the traces of sweat. "Hungry," I replied, because my stomach grumbled to the point of something unbearable forming in my throat.
"I will give you soup." I was too weak to nod, so he left my side as I breathed through the pain, only now registering in my mind I probably should have been scared of this man and that I was at his mercy. But I wasn't. Somehow, without knowing his name or even having a good look at his face or my surroundings, I felt safe.
For now.
"Hurts." My whisper was so low I was afraid he wouldn't hear, but he did.
"Eat, and then you will sleep again." He sat on the edge of the bed, and after he'd adjusted the pillow behind me and scooted me up a bit, which sent a jolt of pain to my ribs, he pressed a delicious-smelling spoon of something to my mouth.
But probably everything in this situation would have smelled heavenly to me.
As my taste buds enjoyed the last of the minestrone soup, the vegetables almost melting in my mouth and not hurting my throat as I swallowed, sleepiness overtook me, and then my eyes closed of their own accord, even though my mouth still chewed slightly.
The man lay me back on the bed, changed the sweat-soaked blankets, and I fell asleep to the door shutting loudly as the room darkened again.
Rosa
"Frankie, it's not funny."
She kept giggling as we moved through her warehouse in the middle of the night. She turned on the lights one by one, as my eyes took in the beauty she had created a few years ago.
The warehouse and design studio was located in Brooklyn, in one of the nicer neighborhoods. Connor had breathed down her neck about safety. Her place had five different rooms. Frankie and her assistant's office walls were painted white, while the table, chair, round fluffy carpet, lamps, and laptop cover were all in shades of red. The second office had several desks for her staff of fifteen. The third space was a glass see-through room with a huge oval table for meetings. The fourth was a break room, so it had coffeemakers, microwaves, food, and other miscellaneous kitchen necessities.
And finally, the fifth one, with various cupboards, shelves, and boxes, was where the finished creations lay.
Frankie's heels clicked loudly on the marble floor as she frantically searched for something.
"Can I help you?"
Giving me a side-glance, she murmured, "No, thanks."
Folding my arms, I said, "I do have a sense of style, you know."
She giggled, and then responded, "Right. Is that why you are going to classes in gym clothes?"
"Hey, they're comfortable," I replied defensively, and she shrugged.
"Seems stupid to me. You basically had no life all those years, and now, quite frankly, you look like shit. Take care of yourself, girl." Her tight green dress hugged her perfectly, as she clipped her blonde hair up. "Okay. So this date. Do you need him to … what?"
Frowning, I picked up a magazine she had lying around. "What do you mean?"
"Is he supposed to lose his head and get hard, or get scared and run away from you? What's the agenda?"
"Well … " Shit, why was I blushing?
"I got this," she replied, opening up the huge closet on both sides as her finger slid from dress to dress on the hangers. There had to be thousands of those in there. Occasionally, she'd ask questions. "Dinner, or something else? What's your shoe size? Hmm … perfect, but not your color. Too big of an ass, no offense. It's a compliment, actually, for this dress." My head spun from all this, so I plopped onto the lonely chair in the left corner and let her do her magic.
This whole date on short notice required desperate measures, and who better to ask for a dress than Frankie? She lived and breathed fashion. Once she'd earned her bachelor's degree in it, she opened up her own design studio with a loan from the bank. As she explained, she needed to do it on her own, even if she failed. However, she slowly gained popularity and was about to receive her biggest project, a collaboration with a lingerie brand. So far, her brand existed only online.
"Finally!" she squealed, snapping me out of my thoughts as she took out a dress covered in a black garment bag. "Perfect for you, girl!" Standing, I tugged on the zipper, but she slapped my hand lightly. "No, no. Open it tomorrow."
"Why?" I wondered suspiciously. Rolling her eyes, she grabbed her purse and motioned for me to follow her to the coffeemaker. "'Cause I want you to. You can do that for me, right? After you showed up here on short notice?"
Guilt took root in the pit of my stomach. She was already asleep when I spontaneously called her about my problem when I couldn't stop worrying about it. "Fine."
She put something inside the round coffee thing, placed two cups under the machine, and it buzzed loudly, making the hot drinks.
"Tea would have been better."
She wiggled her nose in distaste. "God, no. I'm preparing decaf anyway. I have an important business meeting at noon and need to rest."
At that moment, I noticed her rather tense stance and the way she kept frowning. "Oh, my God, the deal for the collaboration? Why didn't you tell me before? I would have let you sleep." She waved my words away, picked up the steaming cups, and sat opposite me.
"The dress is an important part of the look, darling." She took a sip, moaned, clearly enjoying the taste of caramel and milk in her mouth, then continued, "So … he's a hunk, huh?" Despite knowing she had no interest in him whatsoever, the green-eyed monster started to grow in me, and I wanted to shout that he was mine. Who was the caveman now? Studying my expression, she grinned so bright I thought her white teeth would blind me. "Jealous, huh? No, seriously though, you like the guy. Why are you making such a big deal of it?"
Resting my chin on my hands, I exhaled heavily. "Because it's not normal."
She crooked her neck to the side. "What?"
"This need to be with him and the desire I feel when I'm near him. No other guy ever did it for me. Plus, all his possessive tendencies … normal people don't do this."
She was silent for a moment, and then, "Girl, you were never near guys generally. How can you even know what normal is, for that matter? Just enjoy it while it lasts. Explore it, if you heart desires it."
"He promised to let me go, if I wish." She raised her brows in surprise, as her lips sipped coffee. "I believe him."
"Okay, then." Somehow, I thought she evaded my last comment. "So just buckle up and enjoy the ride, babe."
"And if it doesn't work out?"
She shrugged. "Then run, because he will hunt you down." She laughed at her own joke, and although I joined her, I couldn't help but worry her words held truth.
And part of me, the unexplainable part, was thrilled at the idea this man would never let me go.
How freaking confusing was it?
Dominic
"My hands are tied here, Pakhan," Dima explained, scattering all kinds of paperwork on the bar in my penthouse in New York as I had my morning tea. I purchased the apartment a few years back, on my last visit to New York. It gave me a perfect view of the Empire State Building, and the height gave me a sense of power just gazing at the city. The thing wasn't even fully furnished. A white couch sat on the black marble floor. I had a kitchen and bar, three empty bedrooms, and one-mine-with a mattress, candles, and painting equipment.
What the fuck else did I need here anyway? Once I got together with Rosa, she could decorate it the way she wished. Or buy something else. I didn't give a shit where we lived, as long as she stayed by my side.