Dominic was another story altogether though. Even those two little snippets of moments we shared, he overwhelmed me with his masculinity and the powerful energy coming from him in waves.
I didn't believe in love at first sight, even though I loved reading romance books. My deep attraction and fascination with him had another name.
Desire.
The tingling sensation in my body, images of his tattooed skin against mine, his deep, low voice talking to me in the heat of the moment. I longed to explore it and finally find out what all the fuss about sex was.
But he was Damian's twin. If I tried anything with him, everyone would think I had a crush on Damian all along, and it just wasn't true. He was like a big brother to me. The idea of seeing him in any other light but platonic grossed me out.
How could I react so differently to the same face? And how could the universe screw me so much? Weren't there other men on the planet to tempt me?
Wiping away the tears that unexpectedly rolled down my cheeks, I plastered a smile on my face and went in the search of the Scott family.
On the way to Damian's room, I ignored the little voice that urged me to let go of all those stupid insecurities and run to Dominic.
Man with the dragon tattoo
Cleaning my knife, I admired the shape and form of it, not to mention the way it shone in the dim light.
Perfect to cut flesh.
A woman whimpered in the cell, and annoyed, I glanced back at her as she sat on the floor holding her knees to her chest. She had a split lip and several knife wounds I'd left on her. "Shut up," I ordered, but she just sobbed harder, and I barely restrained myself from pulling out my gun and killing the bitch.
Loved her tight cunt too much for that though. Besides, who would willingly pass up some good pussy when she was also a looker? She had nothing on Rosa, but she would do until I got my hands on the princess.
She was a vision to behold in that red dress of hers.
"Please," she begged, from where she sat on the floor. "Stop doing this to me." Throwing everything on the desk, I got up, not caring one bit about my nakedness. I tugged her hair painfully. Her groan of agony was my reward, and my cock immediately got hard.
Too bad I didn't have time for it now. "Don't forget whose life might end if you refuse me or open your mouth." Her lips trembled as she closed her eyes. Leaning down, I licked her cheek and then bit it roughly, leaving marks. I didn't stop until I felt the metallic taste of blood. Those weren't nice caresses by a lover. I was a fucking animal. Another groan and her nails dug into her knee, leaving bruises.
Fuck the meeting.
I could spare ten minutes for some savage fucking.
Standing up, I pushed hard into her mouth and moaned in pleasure. There was nothing better in the world than an unwilling woman on her knees in front of a man. Too bad images of a dark-haired beauty dampened my pleasure.
Soon, princess.
After I noticed there was a bathroom attached to the room, I quickly ran inside, locked the door, and turned on a hot shower, hoping it would at least warm my ice-cold body. I did not intend to step inside, because who knew when the crazy man would come back? My eyes chaotically searched for something to cover my body, and finally, they landed on a worn bathrobe. Although it was once white, the grayish color and heavy odor of cigarettes and whiskey didn't prevent me from gaining a small sense of dignity when I put it on.
Opening up all the drawers, I hoped to find at least some kind of weapon, like a razor or scissors, but there was nothing useful. A few small black clips allowed me to pull my wild hair up and out of my face.
Leaning on the sink, I closed my eyes. The only sound I heard was my rapidly beating heart.
Think, Rosa. Think!
Despite my dad being in the mob, he always tried to protect me from this lifestyle. He never taught me how to protect myself in dangerous situations. The resentment I felt at that moment couldn't be described.
He and his Cosa Nostra family put me in this mess; a madman planned to marry me for my virginity. Could his words hold even a tiny bit of truth? Would a plan to deflower me mean that Dad would marry me off to the one who took it?
What the hell happened to my father? Had life without my mother changed him so much?
I heard footsteps, and then someone entered the room. Quietly going closer to the bathroom door, I pressed my ear to it, listening to the conversation if there was any.
No freaking way was I getting out of this bathroom. Just the idea of him touching me again … Shaking my head, I swallowed down the bile rising in my throat.
"Hello?" a woman's voice asked worriedly, and everything inside me stilled.
Help! A woman would help me, right? As naïve as it sounded, hope blossomed inside my heart.
I burst out of the bathroom and came face-to-face with a young girl around my age who held a tray of food and water in her hands. Her oily blonde hair with black roots could use a washing. Her skin had several bruises. Her brown eyes, underscored with wrinkles, reflected utter hopelessness. She wore a tight black dress and stockings. "Here you are. Food is here." She placed the tray on the bedside table, and then without even giving me a glance, marched back to the door. I couldn't let her leave.
Grabbing her hand tightly, I spun her around, and immediately regretted it once I registered how her body stilled and her hands rose to cover her face, a reflex that happened when someone beat you repeatedly. "I'm sorry." I let go of her and pushed my hands behind my back. "Please, help me." Her eyes widened, and she shook her head while I continued to beg. "Please, they keep me here unwillingly. That guy wants to rape me."
She straightened her unwrinkled dress and then swallowed, before answering, "Whatever he does, it's for the best."
"What?" I exclaimed, as she nodded.
"They always do the right thing." The way she said it, with such conviction in her voice, proved she believed the crap coming out of her mouth.
Hysterical laughter spilled from my lips, as I pulled my hair tightly and exhaled loudly. "Don't you see what they are doing? Please let me go or call for help. That's all I'm asking." A beat passed, and something flashed in her eyes, coming alive in those pools of death and hell, but she still shook her head at me once again. God, was that what they did to women here? Stripped them of any sense of dignity, convinced them they were nothing, that they deserved to be raped and abused? Who could be such monsters?
Why didn't she fight for her life?
Or at some point, did she give up trying? Did the same future await me as well?
She paused at the door, where she couldn't be seen as she pointed at the ceiling in the right corner, and I noticed a small, black device. The thing was almost invisible, unless you had those at home and knew exactly what they were. My dad was freaking obsessed with safety-not that it did me any good at the moment.
Camera.
Had those fuckers watched everything I did?
Then she placed an object on the floor, pressed her index finger to her lips in a silencing gesture, and closed the door quietly behind her. Following her, I kneeled on the floor as my hands touched a kitchen knife with sharp edges.
A weapon.
She left me a weapon.
Gratefulness washed over me, thinking that after all they did to her, and I suspected she was in this hell way longer than I even wanted to think about, the girl hadn't lost her spirit.
Understanding that my emotions couldn't be seen by those villains, I hid the knife in the pocket of my robe, which was deep enough to conceal the whole thing. Then I rose up, paced back and forth, and then smashed the tray to the floor, scattering all the food around.
"Let me go!" I shouted, breathing heavily as my mind hectically came up with several plans for escape.
I had to be prepared for the next time Erik came.
Because no matter what it took, I wouldn't give up without killing him first. His vile hands would not touch me again.
I might not have any hope of coming out of it alive. Who knew how many more men were outside? But inside my pocket was a weapon that could kill a rapist, or me if I wanted to. Dying seemed better than one day becoming a walking corpse like the girl who brought me food.
Rosa
"How long have you been in New York?" Orlando asked, with an easygoing smile on his face, as I tried my damnedest to act interested in this conversation.
"Born and raised here." Orlando's brow raised in surprise, and then he leaned forward. The smell of his cologne washed over me, and for some odd reason, I wanted to shift back.
I really shouldn't. Finally, I had the opportunity to date.
Damian killed off all the enemies who hunted them. Those enemies were also the men who did me wrong all those years ago. Turned out, it was Erik's father, so those who wronged me were punished as well. I had no reason to hide anymore.
I could grab my life back in my own hands and enjoy it to the fullest. Wasn't everything perfect?
Or it would have been, if the amber eyes of the pakhan didn't haunt me.
Damn it!
"So would you like to go somewhere? We can leave Frankie and Chase alone."
When a guy 'sort of' asked you out, it probably wasn't good to wince. But I couldn't help it. Orlando had a lean body, amazing, silky blond hair, and the greenest eyes I'd ever seen. He had the whole Scandinavian look going on, and really, girls wouldn't consider it a hardship to go anywhere with him.