by K. M. Raya
“I don’t know what you're talking about,” I tell him through gritted teeth.
He yanks my strands again, harder this time.
I cry out like a little girl. It's a helpless feeling and I can't help but feel a little bit ashamed, I don’t even have my gun tonight. I’ve grown too complacent here.
Papa would be fucking pissed.
“Stop crying and tell me why you were hanging out with Finley Cassini. We warned you once and I want to know why you seem to be going out of your way to defy us,” he demands, sounding impatient.
“Maybe all she needs is a little push,” suggests a deep voice from somewhere behind me. I don't have to look to know that it's Captain. I’d recognize that smooth baritone anywhere.
Betrayal zings through my chest and I find myself fighting actual tears.
“Let me go you assholes, I don’t fucking know anything!” I try to tell them, but they don't care. They just laugh bitterly at my expense.
“I think you might be right, Cap, let's make this little birdie sing the old fashioned way.”
Holden’s hand releases my hair and I snap my head forward, heaving in a deep breath and taking a moment to let my head clear before steeling myself for what's to come.
Arms wrap around my torso, flinging me backwards until my back hits the damp earth. Carter moves toward my legs, straddling them and placing his hands on my kneecaps to hold me down. At my head, Ellis holds my shoulders while Holden tilts my head back with his hands at my throat.
“W-what are you doing?!” I yell, frantically arching my body off the ground. They’re too heavy though. “I swear to god we were just talking! What the fuck is wrong with you?!”
Water fills my eyes and mouth, making me choke and gag. It keeps coming, drowning me—suffocating me. The moment seems to stretch forever and I find myself wondering if they really plan to kill me tonight.
But as soon as the thought crosses my mind, the onslaught stops. Turning my head to the side, I spit out and choke up what seems like gallons of water. My eyes are stinging and my nose burns, but I blink through the pain.
The guys hover over me still, watching as I suffer with blank, carefully constructed stoicism. Captain stands over us all, holding a gallon jug of sterile water, watching me like I’m some sort of criminal.
I watch him back, those golden eyes . . . those familiar lips. The lips that had kissed me so fiercely, so passionately just days ago. But now those same eyes look lifeless and angry.
“I’m gonna ask you again, bitch. How do you know Finley, are you working for him? For Alexi? Tell me!” Holden demands, spittle hitting me in the face.
“I said I don’t know a god damned thing! I’ve spoken to him twice in my entire life!”
They all frown at each other, apparently trying to decide whether or not they believe me.
I don’t think they do.
“You two looked awfully chummy out there, princess,” Captain accuses and my heart constricts.
“I’m telling you—” I try to plead but before I can finish the sentence, more water is thrown over my face.
I gargle and gag as the water flows up into my nose. My stomach feels full—as if I’ve swallowed most of it. It’s a full thirty seconds before it stops again and I’m left sputtering.
“This is so fucking illegal!” I scream at them. My throat is rough from all the coughing and my voice comes out like a scratchy growl.
Someone laughs but I can’t tell who it’s coming from, my eyes are so blurry all I can make out now are shapes.
“Legality means nothing to us, little bird, you’d do well to understand that.”
I take a second to breathe through my nose and shake my head from side to side, but suddenly there’s fingers wrapping around my throat, pressing on my windpipe, but not enough to cut off the air completely.
“You telling us the truth?” Holden growls in my face.
As my eyes adjust to the darkness, I look deep into those brown eyes of his and plead with mine. He looks so angry. His hand is shaking on my neck and his body looks coiled in a rage. Whatever’s going on with these families is obviously much more than I’d thought. This goes deeper than just a dispute. These boys are hurting somehow. But it still doesn’t excuse this.
“Yes,” I promise, taking a chance and laying one of my hands on his wrist at my neck gently. “I’m not lying. You know him better than I do. We were only talking, and he approached me, not the other way around. I don't know what you think is going on here but you're wrong. I promise . . .”
We both breathe heavily, staring each other down for what seems like minutes. His eyes trace over my face and I notice a little bit of the anger drain from them. His fingers loosen on my neck and I suck in a deep gulp of air.
A hand suddenly grips his shoulder.
“Let’s get out of here, she’s not talking tonight and we have places to be,” says Captain, eyeing me with a weird mixture of confusion and disdain.
Holden releases me and I feel all their weight leave my body as Carter lets go of my legs. He’s heavier than he looks and now my legs are all tingly and unfeeling.
As I lay there, I let my head fall backwards onto the ground and just stare upwards at the canopy of trees blocking out the moonlight. There's some mumbling around me and someone jostles me before slicing the ropes binding my wrists, but I ignore it all.
Eventually, all four of them leave through the trees—leaving me alone and cold.
Chapter Twelve
Angel
“I don’t understand, Papa, I thought you sent me here to keep me away from business?”
I hear him sigh, making me cringe.
“It's only a simple dinner with an associate of mine, nothing more, tesoro mio.” His voice is smooth and confident over the phone—his accent thicker than usual.
‘Tesoro, my ass, he just needs me for something.’
“Please don’t ask me to do this, I know his son and he’s bad news,” I beg Papa, but I know it’s no use.
He doesn’t care.
He never has.
He sighs again—becoming impatient.
“I do not ask much of you, Angel. You do not have to like everyone, but this dinner would mean a lot to your Papa. Mr Faux is a dear friend of mine who I haven’t seen in years. I was hoping that boy of his would take you under his wing soon. I’ve spoken to Cole and he assures me he’d love nothing more than to host my beautiful daughter for a few hours.”
I grumble, but not loud enough for the phone to pick it up. Papa always hated my arguing so I keep it to a minimum. I always found that my life becomes easier if I just suck it up and do what he asks of me. I guess I take after Mama and Sof in that way.
Ellis Faux is an asshole though, one of the rudest people I’ve ever encountered and it makes me want to laugh that Papa wants us to be friends. I have absolutely no desire to have dinner at his house, no matter how close Papa is with Mr Faux.
In all honesty, I’m a little hurt that he would blindside me with this but a part of me feels incredibly naive for expecting anything less. I should have known he was sending me here to Seaside for a reason that would only benefit himself.
Unease gives my stomach butterflies.
“When?” I ask in a clipped tone, knowing my fate is already sealed.
“Tonight, seven o’clock sharp. I shall send you the address.” He sounds relieved that I hadn't made this more difficult and wasted any more of his precious time.
“Dress appropriately,” he adds distractedly.
Without responding, I click the phone off, knowing he likely won’t care. Papa’s constantly busy and it had been a surprise to see his name pop up on my phone at all. Usually it’s Mama calling me to check in—sending over Papa’s best wishes before her goodbyes.
My closet is filled with expensive clothing thanks to Mama and her shopping habits and boredom. I’ve yet to really explore it since Draven Prep requires a uniform. The dresses are arranged by color and fabric, lacking o
nly in pastels which Mama knows I hate.
I select a dark crimson shift dress from the hanger and toss it on, pairing it with some sensible nude pumps and a delicate diamond necklace that papa gave me when I turned fourteen. It's the only jewelry I wear aside form two silver rings on my thumb and pointer fingers because the tiny stone is simple and beautiful, unlike the gaudy jewels my Mama is prone to flaunting.
By six thirty I’m finished dressing and mentally preparing myself for what could possibly be the most uncomfortable evening of the year. Papa had, for the most part, kept my identity under wraps. He’d always taken Sofia with him to formal events, charity functions and gallas to show off to men and associates.
But never me. No, I’d stayed home with my tutors and my guards while Sofia was ogled and treated like meat. The thought of it makes my stomach churn with disgust. Thinking about my sister often causes my whole body ache with homesickness and longing.
I don’t want to do anything for Papa, much less have dinner with someone who hates me.
After what the Brothers put me through at the bonfire, I’m unsure how I plan to face Ellis. What they did to me was fucked up and extremely illegal. Again though, I know I’ve been through much worse, but my pride definitely took a major hit.
✽✽✽
The Faux family estate is just twenty minutes down the road and set back a ways down a narrow dirt path which leads to a magnificent brick wall lined with lamp posts.
The home behind it could rival the size of my parents home easily. The property is beautiful, filled with tall pines and woven through with cobblestone pathways and lush gardens that I can see peeking out from behind the wrap around porch. Although . . . to call it a porch would be an incredible understatement.
I pull my car into the circular driveway where two large, mean looking men already stand waiting, presumably for me. They wear crisp black suits and stand over six feet tall. Neither of them has any sort of identifiable expression on his face.
It reminds me of home.
The one to the right holds out his hand and without thinking, I drop my car keys into his waiting palm. He takes off to park it somewhere behind the house.
The other man leads me into the home and immediately I’m hit in the face with the scent of baking bread. It’s mouthwatering. All these weeks living alone, I hadn’t really bothered to actually use my kitchen. Preferring takeout has caused me to forget the quality and freshness of a home cooked meal. At least I have that going for tonight. If I can squeeze some food out of these assholes then the night might not be a total loss.
A click-clack of high heels echoes in the empty space of the foyer and soon after, a medium height woman with copper red hair sweeps into the room. She wears a cream colored wrap dress with nude Prada pumps and pearls around her slender neck. Her green eyes are bright, but the tightness around her lipstick covered mouth betrays her.
“You must be Angel.” She reaches for my hands and takes them in hers gently. It’s a warm greeting—unexpected but welcomed. “Thank you for agreeing to this on such short notice, we had no idea Salvatore’s daughter had moved into town.” She smiles sweetly.
Her voice is smooth and soft, as if she’s used to blending in and never drawing attention to herself.
I lower my lashes and smile back, attempting to appear demure. I find that some people tend to respond better when they aren’t feeling threatened.
“Nice to meet you, Mrs Faux and thank you for inviting me. I haven’t had the chance to meet very many people in town yet.”
The woman leads me to a large kitchen area. The space is massive, with vaulted ceilings and stainless steel for miles.
“You can call me Aria,” she insists.
After guiding me towards the marbled countertop where she stands awkwardly for a moment, fidgeting with her numerous pearl bracelets, Aria goes to the refrigerator and pulls out a pitcher of lemonade with little blueberries floating in it.
“So . . . Ellis seems to be quite taken with you,” she giggles, but it comes out sort of forced. “Can you imagine?He barely likes his own friends, I swear that boy can be so moody.”
My brows hit my hairline.
“Is that what he said?” I ask skeptically and shrug a shoulder. “I mean, I’ve talked to him a little I guess, but I wouldn’t say he’s taken with me . . . actually, I’m not even sure he tolerates me to be honest.”
I leave out the fact that he tortured me with water in the middle of the woods because I’m not really sure how to casually sneak that into this conversation.
Some part of me doesn’t want to hurt this woman's feelings or upset her in any way. I can't put my finger on what it is, but Aria seems like someone I can be straight with, despite the fact that she resembles a frightened mouse.
Normally with uber rich housewives you can see the wheels turning in their carefully calculating brains. Each of them has some sort of ulterior motive in everything they do or say.
But I sense none of that in her. The woman is warm, open and quite frankly a breath of fresh air.
She smiles as she pours me a cold glass of lemonade.
“I’m sure that's not true.” She looks at the clock on the wall and frowns before wiping her hands on a nearby dish towel. “I should be heading to the office out back, Cole’s always so caught up in his work he forgets about the outside world.”
Her mouth does that tightening thing again and the spark in her green eyes dims just a tad, but it’s obvious to me that something is bothering her. It nags at me because I’m so used to seeing that same look in Mama’s eyes.
“Go ahead, I'm alright waiting here,” I assure her, taking a healthy sip of admittedly delicious lemonade.
She smiles politely before clicking her way out of the kitchen. At the last moment though, Aria stops and turns to face me with a serious, but wary expression on her pretty face.
“Be careful, Angel,” she warns—not meeting my eyes.
“You seem like a really nice girl and this place can be toxic for nice girls. I know things may look beautiful and glamorous on the outside . . . but I hope you never forget that looks can deceive even the most perceptive of people.”
Her words send a chill over my body.
“Is there something you need to tell me, Aria?” I ask, setting my glass down and folding my arms across my chest.
Her green eyes widen, but a neutral mask falls over her face before I can think on it.
She waves me off with a fake laugh, “Oh don’t be silly. Just trying to give a little advice from one woman to another. Cole tells me you live here alone without your parents. I just want you to know that if you ever need anything, I’m always around.”
With those reassuring words she leaves the kitchen.
I use these moments alone to take stock of the Faux estate. The kitchen is immaculate, with not a thing out of place or a single dirty dish to be found. The oven is on and I’m surprised to deduce that Aria must have been the one doing the cooking.
Back at my parents’ home, they have a personal chef. Even picturing Mama holding a frying pan is enough to bring tears of laughter to my eyes.
Leaving the kitchen, I make my way into the next room. There’s a long mahogany table with high backed chairs befitting royalty situated on an ornate looking royal blue rug. The table holds two large candelabras and place settings for four people. The walls are a deep burgundy, and on them hangs landscape paintings of city lights, skyscrapers and some of the world's most famous bridges. It’s all very eclectic and tasteful, such a mixture of the old and the new and I can't help but admire it.
“Snooping around again, I see?”
Whipping around, my eyes run over Ellis, leaning against the doorframe with a glass of amber liquid in his hand.
He looks damn good and I hate myself for the shiver that rolls through me because I should hate this guy with every fiber of my being.
He has on a dark burgundy button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows showcasing a few
black tattoos on his inner forearm with one that looks similar to the one I’d seen on Holden’s the other day. I hadn’t noticed the other ink before, but seeing those glimpses only intrigues me more.
His shirt tucks into a slim pair of charcoal colored slacks held in place by a chocolate leather belt that matches his shoes. On his wrist is a flashy Rolex watch and about three silver rings on each hand. In the dim lighting, his slate colored eyes glow against that nicely tanned skin and thick, shapely eyebrows.
Everything about Ellis Faux is sensual and almost . . . dangerous, especially when his fine attire clashes with those piercings in his lip and brow. He’s such a contradiction of a human being but I’d like nothing more than to climb him like a freakin tree.
“Was this your doing?” I ask as I move in closer, slowly skirting the corner of the table and attempting to seem unfazed even though I’m severely on edge.
He smirks wickedly. “Unfortunately I can’t take the credit for this one.”
He clears his throat. “Although—I mentioned your name only once and my father practically ordered Salvatore to send you an invite.”
I snort.
“Funny, he's never mentioned you or your family before.”
I step closer.
“Why is that, do you think . . . if they’re such good friends and all? I happen to know all of my Papa's associates, and I’ve never heard the name Cole Faux in my life.”
Ellis raises a single brow and I mirror the movement, making his lips tip into a sexy smirk. Our standoff makes my body tingle with something achingly like . . . need.
What is it about these guys that makes me feel this way? Is it the danger they pose? Or is it something deeper that draws me to them like a moth to a flame? Could it be that they hold the same darkness within them that plagues me day after day?
“I could ask you the same question, Ms Valentino. Seems like our fathers have been keeping things from us both . . . unless you know something I don't.” His eyes become speculative as he slowly drags them from my feet to my eyes and I swear it's like I can feel them touching me.