Just another day in the completely fucked-up life of Nic Fortunato’s son.
He hovers over me, and I can smell the stale beer on his breath. “Do you want people to think you’re some kind of sick fuck, Elia?” he growls. “Who the hell will take you seriously in this life if you go around swinging your dick at an internet camera?” His breathing is heavy and labored and his eyes are bloodshot and wild, darting around me room and falling on my ski poles. Papa stomps over to the corner of the room and grabs one of them. “Freak!”
A shudder runs through me. “Don’t call me that!” I yell, my back still bruised and sore from the last time he pulled a weapon on me. It was a belt, but fifty lashes stung like a hive full of wasps. I wince, the welts flaring up in anticipation.
“Why not? It’s true! Who was watching you, Elia?” Papa hisses, slamming the tip of the pole on the floor next to my foot. “Who wanted to see you jerk off?”
Tears pool in my eyes, and I scrub a hand down the front of my face so he can’t see. I’m caught between wanting to crumble and letting the volcano of rage erupt out of me. The truth is, I don’t really know who was watching. I mean, it’s not like I do a roll call when I start a video. The dark web is full of people who like sick shit. People like me. People who need to find creative ways to feel accepted. Acknowledged.
Even if it’s for a faceless audience.
At least I know someone out there will pay attention to me.
The only thing my father gives a damn about is money. He doesn’t care about my mother, and he sure as hell has no use for me.
I’ve tried to get his attention for too long, but he’s made his priorities clear, and we don’t make the list.
My mother won’t leave. His hold on her is too strong and she’s afraid of what he’ll do to both of us if we manage to escape. He has money, power, and a crowd of scared motherfuckers who follow his orders because of what will happen if they don’t.
I’d never leave her by herself with that animal.
Christ only knows what he’d do to her if I wasn’t around to stop him.
Mama is all I have. She’s the only good thing in my life. I need her and will do anything to protect her.
My spine stiffens as my father raises the pole, my chest heaving as it comes closer to my temple.
He did this! He turned me into a fucking deviant! This is his fault!
At sixteen, I know more than most guys my age about technology. It’s my way of dealing with the misery I suffer on a daily basis under his roof.
And thanks to my asshole father, I also know more about physical and emotional abuse than any kid ought to.
He sways a little bit, falling off-balance as his arm launches backward, and I can tell he’s packed away more than a couple of beers. I’m about Papa’s height, although he’s got me beat, weight-wise.
I’m still gonna take him.
“Don’t you dare take a swing,” I grunt, my pulse throbbing against my neck. I stand up to him every time, but the end result is always the same. I get my ass handed to me.
I guess I’m a glutton for punishment.
Or maybe I’m just hoping that one day, I’ll win.
If I win, maybe then he’ll leave me alone.
Leave us alone.
Papa’s glassy eyes narrow and he smirks at me. “Oh yeah? What are you gonna do to stop me, huh? You gonna whack off for me? Shoot your fucking load for your fans?”
“Don’t do it,” I whisper as he swings the pole into a lamp on my nightstand. The porcelain shatters, large pieces clattering on the floor.
“So, you’re the one giving the orders now, huh?” He slams the pole against my desk, dangerously close to my computer. I clench my fists and he laughs. “Oh, sorry, did I get too close? I’d hate to disappoint your fans, Elia. Wouldn’t want them to miss out on you stroking your dick.”
Using all of my strength, I shove him backward into my door. He crashes against it with a loud groan, all of my soccer trophies tumbling off of the shelf above the doorframe. Papa scrambles to his feet, his jaw set.
Too bad none of them knocked him out.
“You’re nothing but a liability to the family! You’re pathetic! Weak! Completely fucking useless to me and nothing like the man I raised you to be!” he shouts.
“So beating on your wife and kid makes you a man? You’re disgusting, a fucking piece of shit! And you’ve made my life a living hell!” I bellow, taking a swing at the side of his face. But my fist falls short and he drops the pole and grabs my arm, twisting it behind me and snaking his other arm around my waist. He tightens his grip, constricting my lungs and making breathing damn impossible. I gasp for air as he presses harder, gulping bits of oxygen like a fucking fish out of water.
“Don’t you forget everything I’ve done for you, you ungrateful little bastard. Your mother keeps her mouth shut because she’s smart. She knows what she’ll lose if she gets out of line.”
“Ahh!” I yelp as he twists my wrist. I can feel it snap when the sharp burn explodes into my hand and up my forearm.
“I told you not to embarrass me again. I warned you what would happen!” He thunders, shoving me against the desk. My laptop teeters on the edge, falling onto the floor with a loud crash. “And since you didn’t listen, now you’re gonna pay the price.” He steps toward me, his hulking body twitching as he closes the distance between us. His hand disappears for a brief second, a knife gripped in his palm. He clutches it in his hand, my heart thudding so hard it almost drowns out his caustic words.
Almost…
“Your fans wanna watch something? Well, I’m gonna show them how I deal with liabilities, Elia,” Papa says, holding up the glimmering tip of the knife, a menacing smile on his ruddy face. “Right fucking now!”
* * *
I stop outside of Julia’s room, looking up into one of the cameras perched to the side of the doorframe. Hundreds of thousands of followers stare back. At least, they acknowledge me and accept me. They understand and support my plans because they’re just like me…looking for the same things, things they’ve been deprived of in their own lives. They’ve shared their stories with me, and a part of me feels like I’m doing this for all of us, for everyone who feels like they’ve been ridiculed, emotionally tormented, and bullied. I’m taking a stand against all of that, turning the tables, and taking back all of the control I’ve lost. “I hope you’re all enjoying my journey. It’s been a long road, but I’m finally so close to getting everything I want, destroying the one person who stripped me of my life, and consummating my relationship with the one person who can give it all back to me.” I look past the camera at Julia’s still form and continue my story for the hundreds of thousands of people I’ve managed to attract over the years live streaming videos on BlackBook, the darknet version of a social media platform. “I’ve done some things I’m not proud of to get here, but it’s all been necessary. My father, Nic Fortunato, is evil. Abusive. Pure malice. He kills innocent people. He murdered his own wife, my mother, in cold blood.” My face twists into a grimace. “For years, he’s tried to turn me into the man he’s become. I’ve played my part, waiting for my chance to crush him.” I nod toward Julia. “That time is coming very soon, now that I have the key to his kingdom, the leverage he needs to expand his empire. He deserves everything that’s about to happen.”
I wave my hands around to the other cameras, smirking. “Just wait. The show is only going to get better, I promise.” I undo the drawstring on my pajama pants, pushing them to the floor. I step out of them, kicking them out of my way. My cock thickens with each word I speak, consumed by the overwhelming urge to see how many likes I’m getting from my fans now as I grab it, jerking my hand. My breath hitches and I catch a glimpse of Julia flat on her back, the sheet strewn across the mattress leaving her completely exposed.
I inch closer to the bed, a soft moan escaping Julia’s lips, her cheeks red and blotchy.
I hate that I’ve caused her so much pain, but it was the only way to get her h
ere. And this is where she belongs…with me.
I just need her to start accepting that.
I massage my dick with hard, fast strokes as her body shifts on the mattress. I squeeze my eyes shut, imagining her reaction to me fucking my hand. My pulse thrums as my strokes increase in intensity and blood rushes to the head of my dick. Precum spills from the tip, making my hand slide up and down easier.
It’s slick, warm, and wet, but nothing compared to what Julia’s soft pussy will feel like, I just know it. I ache with need, desperation consuming me as her startled and sharp cry from the other night replays in my mind. It felt so goddamn good to explode, to watch her shocked expression as my hot cum flowed over my fingers.
All for her.
I wonder if my thick cock made her wet…hungry…aroused.
My face pinches, stomach clenching as I tug and pull harder and harder. But I never touch her. I can’t, not until I know she wants me as badly as I want her. I honor her, respect her, treasure her. The drugs are just a way to keep her from running away from her fate.
Once she accepts it, accepts me, I will be able to make love to her and put a baby in her belly. I crave it…the happiness I once had. Julia can give that to me again.
She’s the only one who can.
But until she realizes that, I just watch, fantasize, and expose the deepest parts of myself to her. Soon, she’ll accept me. I know she will.
I grit my teeth, tingles deep in my groin rumbling through me as the slow explosion rockets through my body. It electrifies every nerve ending, the force erupting from deep in my core. “Ahh!” I groan as my hot seed shoots out of the tip, spurting over Julia’s luscious tits and flat stomach. When I’m finally spent…empty…I let out a deep breath and collapse against the wall next to her.
My chest heaves, my head falling to the side as she sleeps.
“Julia,” I whisper. “We’re going to be so happy together, I promise. Just accept me. Accept this. Accept us.”
Chapter Seven
Julia
I sweep my tongue over my dry lips. Water. I need water. It feels like there’s an imaginary wad of cotton wedged in my mouth.
I lift my head off of the pillow, sitting up slowly as my fuzzy recollection of recent events assaults my mind. I lean over, my head falling into my hands as sobs quake my shoulders. The loss seems so surreal, like all of this. I have no idea how long it’s been since I was taken, I only know the man holding me captive is off his nut.
He hasn’t divulged much, but I’ve heard him around the house, talking out loud. To who, I have no idea. But sometimes he yells. He’s got a lot of rage, and I don’t like the fact that I’m the only target for that rage.
My eyes fall to the bedside table at the pouch he pulled out before shooting me up with God only knows what. A chill slides down my spine, and I press my fingertips to my temples.
He was in here with me. Naked.
I was naked, too.
Oh my God, did he…?
Did we?
Bile rises in my throat.
I can’t remember anything after the black cloud sucked me in and the drugs took hold. I have no idea if he violated me. All of the bullshit he spewed about wanting me to stop fighting him, to finally give myself to him…did he mean it?
It’s a shred of hope, and I’m clinging to it.
Right now, there is nothing else for me to cling to.
My teeth chatter, and I grab a silk robe, dropping the sheet and sliding my arms into the flimsy fabric. I slowly put my bare feet on the floor and take a few steps toward the fireplace where I sink to the floor, watching the orange flames dance.
I raise the cup of hot chocolate to my lips, Mama lying next to me on the couch with her wine.
“I’ve been thinking a lot about the foundation,” I say to Mama. “All of the kids I work with when I’m not touring, how special they are, how much I miss them when I’m away and miss seeing their progress.” I smile. “They don’t have much, but they sure do have spirit and enthusiasm.”
“And talent,” Mama adds. “Something you should feel proud about helping to nurture.”
“I do,” I say slowly. “I just wonder…do you think I’m missing out on life by doing all of this touring?” I ask, tracing my big toe around the carpet in a heart shape.
A look of surprise flashes across Mama’s face. “Missing out on what?”
I shrug. “Love, relationships, building a future with someone, a family? I mean, pretty much the only guys I come into contact with are my roadies and security detail. My schedule isn’t exactly ideal for romance.” I stretch out on the couch, a deep sigh expelling through my lips. “I just see these amazing kids and I think about how maybe I’d like that, too. Do you think it’s in the cards for me? I mean, I love touring and my music, but I don’t want to miss out on what comes next.”
Mama smiles. “I don’t want you to miss out on anything, mi amore. You’re the most special person in my life and I want you to have everything you desire. You deserve to be happy and successful, and I know you’ll find a way to balance your career with your future. You have so many gifts to offer, and when the time is right, the right person will recognize them. And you’ll pass them on to your children and they will amaze you each and every day. That’s what I see for your future, Julia. I don’t think you’re missing out on anything. You just need to be patient and hopeful. Life will handle the rest.”
A choked sob escapes my chest, anger flooding me.
I look up at one of the cameras set up in the room, wondering if he’s watching me right now.
“I fucking hate you! I will never accept you! You can keep drugging me, but it won’t ever change how I feel about you! You took everything from me, you bastard!” My eyes dart around the room, and I grab an ashtray from a nearby table, hurling it at the camera. It cracks, dangling from the connecting wire. “My mother was a wonderful person!” I scream. “She didn’t deserve to die! You killed her for no reason and now she’s gone forever! I’ll never get to talk to her again or hug her or tell her I love her!” Hysterics rock my body, my heart thumping faster and harder with each passing second. “It’s you who deserves to die!”
The door creaks open, and I turn with a gasp as he walks into the room holding a bottle of water, a pair of low-rise jeans clinging to his hips.
“I know exactly how you feel,” he says with a trace of remorse. “Because I have the same thoughts every day about my own mother.”
As unsteady as I am, I somehow stagger to my feet and lunge for him, digging my fingernails into his bare chest and slicing at his flesh. He barely winces, even when I draw blood. “I deserve that,” he whispers as I slam my fists into him.
He remains immobile, a wall of pure muscle who doesn’t register the pain and anguish I want…need…to inflict on him. I use every ounce of strength I have, my flying fists fueled by guilt and regret.
My limbs finally surrender, and I collapse to the floor in a sobbing heap, breathless from my weak show of force. He kneels down next to me, red welts on his chest from where I tried to cut through him with my grief. “Take this,” he says, holding out the bottle.
I glare at him. “I don’t want anything from you!”
He lifts an eyebrow. “You can dig in your heels or take what I’m offering. I know you’re thirsty. And hungry.”
On cue, my stomach rumbles and I clutch an arm tight around my midsection. “No, I’m not.”
“Julia,” he says. “You have to stop fighting. I don’t want to drug you anymore. I want you to accept the fact that we are meant to be together.”
“You’re insane,” I hiss, pulling the robe tighter when I see his eyes fall to my breasts. “You took me away from everything I loved and brought me here for what? To get revenge on your father? You’re making me suffer for things he did to wrong you?”
“Would you rather suffer at the hand of my father for sins your family committed against him?” His lips quirk upward. “Trust me, I saved you.”
“You ended me!” I shout. “And my mother! And my father!” A shiver zips through me. “I don’t care what you think you did to save me, but you’re no better than your monster of a father!”
I swallow hard, watching the tormented look on his face morph into a disturbing mixture of rage and malice. His eyes narrow, his mouth twisting into a grimace. A strangled sound escapes his lips as he utters words that ice the blood in my veins.
“You think you know monsters,” he growls, jumping to his feet, his eyes piercing and wild. “You think you know pain! You don’t know anything about the kind of man he is and the terror he inflicted!” He clutches the sides of his hair, fisting it as he stomps around the room.
I will myself to move, to plant my feet on the ground, to run for my fucking life and escape from this nightmare!
But the after-effects of the drugs are too strong, keeping me rooted to my spot.
Immobile.
And more and more goddamn hopeless with each passing day.
His voice rises with each step, his chest heaving as he draws in sharp breaths. He covers his face with his hands, crying out through his thick fingers. “The torture and torment…the screaming and the blood. The fucking blood!” His voice is thick, a guttural roar springing from his chest as he bellows, “I hate you for what you did! You killed her! You took her away from me and you will fucking pay!”
I slide myself backward into a corner as he continues on his warpath, tears stinging my eyes, my entire body trembling with panic that whether or not I accept it, I will be his.
In one breath, he professes his love for me, and in the next, he becomes the very monster he is so intent to destroy.
I whimper as he storms the place, my lips forming desperate words, praying for a chance…one single chance to save myself.
Before there’s nothing left to save.
* * *
ELIA
I creep into the house after pushing open the front door. An eerie quiet settles around me and a heavy feeling settles deep in my gut.
Coveted: Men of Mayhem: Book Two Page 8