MarianaWhen Dornan left, promising to return with something for me to eat, I didn"t antic.i.p.ate him returning ten seconds later with his father in tow.
I could tell that Emilio was annoyed, but I had no idea why. I"d done as I was told. Flown thousands of miles with his psychotic employee. Ridden on the back of his son"s bike, effectively blindfolded. Gone to my dungeon like a good little girl.
And then I remembered the blood.
"What the f.u.c.k is this?" Emilio asked, after he"d burst past his son. Dornan said nothing as Emilio s.n.a.t.c.hed up my arm, tearing at the bandage. He glared at his son. "I specifically said not to mark her. Did you do this?"
Dornan remained blank. "No," he said. As soon as Emilio turned back to me that glint of amus.e.m.e.nt sprang forth in Dornan"s eye.
"Who did this to you, girl?" Emilio demanded. "I"ll skin their f.u.c.king hide."
His concern was odd and I was terrified of telling him that I had cut myself.
"She fell off the bike," Dornan broke in unexpectedly. "Fainted. It"s lucky she didn"t hurt herself any worse. I don"t think that f.u.c.ker gave her anything to eat the whole time he had her."
Emilio ground his teeth around the toothpick that was jammed between his lips, muttering obscenities in Italian. "f.u.c.king Murphy," he said.
He shook his head, hands on his hips. He looked like the d.a.m.n G.o.dfather in his tailored suit. "Have you checked her out yet?" he asked Dornan, with such a casual tone it made my skin crawl.
"Checked me out?" I repeated.
Emilio threw me a look of derision before looking back to his son.
Dornan shook his head. "I was busy cleaning her up. I know you hate mess." His jaw clenched as he spoke, and it was obvious to me that he didn"t like the power his father wielded over him.
Interesting.
"What do you mean?" I asked, louder this time. "What does he mean?"
"Shut up, b.i.t.c.h," Emilio said, clearly annoyed that I was speaking.
"Whatever, old man," I replied.
He paused, turning slowly.
"What did you say?"
"I said, whatever," I repeated. "I might have offered myself up as a trade for my family"s lives. Doesn"t mean I need to enjoy it."
He chuckled, the rage still evident in the way his neck tensed. "You"d be a sick little wh.o.r.e if you did enjoy it here."
"You"re an a.s.shole," I answered.
I was rewarded with a punch to the jaw. Seemed his rage overrode his desire not to mark me. It f.u.c.king hurt, too, propelling me backwards. I fell against the bed in a pile of limbs, covering my face with my hands.
"Wait," I said, panting a little. "So you get to call me b.i.t.c.h and wh.o.r.e, but I don"t get to call you what I want? That"s hardly fair."
His smile vanished and he spat the toothpick out, stalking towards me.
"Life isn"t fair," he said emphatically. "If life were fair, your stupid father wouldn"t have LOST MY f.u.c.kING COCAINE!"
His tone terrified me, and I couldn"t help but close my eyes as Emilio"s spittle landed on my cheek.
My reaction seemed to calm the beast, to satisfy him. He sucked in a breath and let his shoulders drop, as if composing himself.
"My name is Emilio," he breathed, his gold tooth glinting in the harsh light of the bare bulb above us. "But you will call me Master."
Before I could protest or cry or make some smarta.s.s joke, before I could even decide how to react, he reached around and grabbed the back of my neck, pulling me from the bed and slamming me forcefully to the ground. The damp concrete knocked the air from my lungs, and I gasped.
Crack!
He kicked me in the ribs, forcefully enough for me to hear a snap as something broke. White-hot pain sang in my bones, reaching a brutal climax when my nerves relayed the searing message to my brain.
I thought I"d be braver. I thought I"d be able to take his torment, his violence, and smile at him with blood-smeared teeth. But I wasn"t brave. I was scared.
I broke.
I opened my mouth, and screamed.
He left the room after that. I curled into an awkward ball, not too tight, because my ribs were screaming in agony, but as tight as I could, because it was freezing in the room.
Time stretched out, as my stomach rumbled and my ribs protested their pain.
Hunger. Pain. Sadness. Despair. They all threw a party inside me, and all I wanted was for them to go away, to give me some peace for a few brief moments. All I wanted was for the pain to go away.
I recoiled as I saw a boot appear in my vision.
"Hey," the voice that belonged to the boot soothed. Dornan. "It"s okay. I"ll save my beating for tomorrow."
I frowned, looking up at him as he knelt beside me; he was smiling and I couldn"t tell if he was joking or not.
"I think my ribs are broken," I wheezed.
He nodded. "Probably. I heard something snap."
I moaned, trying to roll over. I eventually managed to get to my knees, and he helped me to my feet like I was as light as a feather.
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I sat on the edge of the bed gingerly, trying not to move anything. Each time I took in a breath, white-hot pain radiated from a spot underneath my heart. He broke my ribs! Beneath the fog of pain, I was furious. Wasn"t taking me from my family enough? Wasn"t killing my boyfriend enough? Wasn"t forcing me to swallow those fake cocaine capsules enough?
Of course it wasn"t enough. He would keep hitting, keep hurting, keep taunting, until I stopped responding. He was a power-hungry psychopath. He did a magnificent job of playing the b.a.s.t.a.r.d. He didn"t care if I suffered; in fact, my suffering was essential to him.
I chastised myself for being so receptive to Dornan. He was the enemy. It was like a really s.h.i.tty version of good cop / bad cop, and I had fallen for it hook, line and sinker.
"I"ll get you something to eat," Dornan said. "I"ll be right back."
I looked at him with all of the disgust I could muster.
"Don"t bother," I said mechanically, no emotion in my tone. He was Emilio"s son, not my friend, and though he"d bandaged me up, and said he liked my blood, it would be the last of my blood he would get to touch without a fight.
I wasn"t falling for his bulls.h.i.t act. He was a Gypsy Brother. They might own me now, but it didn"t mean I had to like it. Like him.
Dornan raised an eyebrow. "Lost your appet.i.te? Yeah, he does that to me, too."
I didn"t respond, and eventually he took the hint, and left.