by Bella J
I grabbed her hips and jerked her against me, letting her feel how hard and ready I was to fuck her again. “That happens when you fuck the Boss.”
She chuckled, and Jesus Christ, the sound made my chest ache. It was the most beautiful sound I have ever heard, and it was like a switch got flipped inside me, turning me from a man who wanted to kill her, to a man who wanted to spend his last dime if it meant making her laugh.
“Come on.”
“Castello?”
This time I snickered. “You will never call me sir, will you?”
She cocked a cheeky brow. “Not unless the Boss wants to play, no.”
“Well we’re done playing.” I glanced down at her. “For now at least.”
I grabbed my jeans, and a new shirt from the closet, pulled it on and walked to the door. Tatum remained silent and still.
“What is it?”
Her soft eyes found mine. “Did something change?”
“I don’t know…maybe”—I roughed my hand through my hair—“yes.”
She looked down at her hands clutched in front of her. “What changed?”
How could I explain to her what was going on inside this head of mine if I didn’t understand it myself? How did I tell her that she managed to thaw the ice that had been occupying my veins for so long? That I was convinced she would be my undoing, but that I would embrace my downfall if it meant seeing her in chains every night, hearing her scream my name while all her pleasure belonged to me? For the first time loyalty wasn’t my driving force anymore, but rather my desire…for her. But between all of that confusion running rampant inside me, I felt on edge, like disaster was looming around the corner waiting to strike.
“I’m not sure, Tatum. I’m not sure what changed.”
“What is going to happen to me?”
I sighed, glancing up at the ceiling before I looked down at the floor. “I don’t know. God, I don’t know anything right now.”
My answer didn’t set her at ease. It wasn’t meant to. Right now I wasn’t sure if there was any guarantee for either of us that this entire situation would turn out okay—for her or me.
“Come on. We better get you out of here before the rest of the house wakes up.”
I saw the reluctance in every step she took, the fear and doubt that plagued her. If there was a way for me to be able to relieve her of that burden just a little, I would have done it. Goddammit, this was all too surreal—going from a man who wanted to punish her, to a man who wanted to spare her any kind of torment.
We walked in silence down the dark halls. There was nothing we could say—nothing I could say. For months I felt powerful as the Boss of this family, and now for the first time I felt completely helpless.
Every step we took toward her room felt like we were both on fucking death row, and too soon we stopped in front of the security door that led to her prison. The heaviness that fell over us as I punched in the code was downright toxic.
I opened the last door and let her walk through first.
A kidnapper with manners.
I leaned against the wall and admired how she looked in my white T-shirt. Her perfectly curved legs teased me. Her toned thighs taunted me. And the way her blonde curls fell elegantly around her shoulders, the ends reaching the curve of her back—Tatum Linscott had become the epitome of perfection to me. When or how that happened I have no fucking clue. But it did happen, and I had no idea what to do with that. All I knew was I no longer wanted to take her life, but rather take her—for myself. I just needed to figure it out…somehow.
A sheet of white paper on the floor caught my attention. “Did you draw?”
She leaned against the opposite wall. “I did.”
Silence.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“For what?”
“For my reward.”
“There should be enough paper to keep you busy for a while.”
She smiled. “Actually, I used it all.”
“You did?” I lifted a brow.
“Yup. The chalk too.” She shrugged. “Drawing soothes me, and God knows I needed a lot of soothing. It also helps me sort through my thoughts whenever I feel confused.”
“What are you confused about?”
This time she lifted her eyebrows and it almost reached her hairline. “Are you seriously asking me that question? What I’m confused about?”
I rubbed the back of my neck. “Yeah, I guess that was a stupid question.”
Pushing myself off the wall I walked over to the sheet of paper, and noticed all the other pushed halfway under the bed.
“What did you draw?”
“Yeah, that’s another good question.”
I glanced at her as I picked up the first sheet. “You don’t know what you drew?”
“I kind of space out when I draw.”
I snickered. “Space out?”
A faint blush spread across her cheeks. “It’s an artist thing.”
“I’m sure it is.” I looked at the piece of paper I picked up, and swallowed hard when I stared at the image.
Lines and circles, light and dark shadows, it all came together in a portrait of…me. My heart stammered, my chest suddenly feeling too small for the way my heart swelled. Except…it wasn’t me. There was no scar. The portrait she drew was of my brother.
“It’s Carlo.”
I dropped the sheet and picked up the others. Sheet after sheet was the same damn image.
Carlo. Carlo. Carlo. Every damn picture was of him.
Fire. Red. Everything inside me burned with fire, my vision nothing but red. I was right. She didn’t see me. She saw my fucking brother every time she looked at me.
There were so many sheets of paper, and after what felt like the fiftieth one I tossed the rest on the ground and stood.
“It’s my brother. Of course it’s my brother.”
“Maybe it’s you.”
I glared at her and laughed maniacally. “Nice try. But for those images to be me, your drawings lack one specific thing.” I pointed at my scar, and her eyes grew wide. “None of your drawings has this on it.”
She stepped forward. “Castello—”
I grabbed her arm and twisted it behind her back before shoving her face against the wall. “When will you goddamn learn? It’s sir.”
She struggled against me. “I told you, only when we play.”
“Yeah?” I leaned down toward her ear. “Who says I haven’t been playing this entire time?”
With a hard jerk I let go of her arm and gave a step back. The anger I felt was something I couldn’t describe. It burned, but in the same time it fucking stung as if someone had stabbed me in the back with a thousand knives.
She turned, tears slowly trickling down her cheeks. I ignored it. The sight of her tears did nothing to tame the wild beast inside me.
I grabbed all the sheets from the floor and stomped to the door.
“I’m sorry…sir.”
I froze, her words shoving those thousand knives deeper into my back. “Not yet, you’re not.”
And then I closed the door, my insides numb. Glancing down at one of the sheets in my hand, at the image of my brother, I knew that I was lost. Why? Because for the first time in my life I hated my brother. Call it jealousy, envy, call it fucked-up-ness, but I hated him so fucking much that I wished he was still alive so that I could drive a goddamn stake through his heart. This was what I had become, a man who mourned his dead brother, yet hated him too.
I blamed her. I blamed myself. I blamed him.
21
TATUM
The second he closed that door, I knew my fate was sealed. The man that left my room was no longer the man out for blood, but rather a man who had been hurt—by me.
I knew something shifted between us during the last few hours, I just didn’t know what it was. But whatever it was, it had to be big. For Castello to act so…so hurt by my drawings, he had to have felt something…for me. I just didn’t know how t
hat was even possible. Yet something definitely changed. He was different, and I no longer saw hate when he stared at me. His touch, the way he held me in his arms felt good, like he wanted me there. And I wanted to be there. I wanted him to hold me, to take me, make me his and protect me.
How’s that for irony? I wanted the one man out to harm me to protect me. I was such a fool. Did I think that Castello, the man who spent the last few months plotting and planning my demise would actually change his mind? And why—because he cared for me?
Stupid, naïve little Tatum.
I slipped down the wall until I hit the ground. That’s when I realized that I had allowed myself to hope. I had read more into what happened between me and Castello than what there really was. I grabbed ahold of something that wasn’t there, hope. But that hope was gone now. It got ripped away from me by a few stupid drawings.
I tried to think back to when I drew those portraits. My mind was twisted and jumbled with so many thoughts that I couldn’t even remember myself having one simple, coherent thought. I always lost myself in my art—especially when my heart and mind was tormented by things that I couldn’t make any sense of.
Tears rolled down my cheeks, my soul mourning, my heart aching. Aching for what? For him—for Castello? Did it really go that far that my heart had somehow grew a part of it all? That was absurd.
Clutching my knees to my chest I leaned my head against my arms and cried. I cried for him, for myself, for Carlo, for everyone that got hurt—that lost something.
The sound of escaping air swooshed through the room and I jumped up, my heart almost leaping out of my chest.
“Castello.”
The door opened, and I sucked in a breath when I saw that the man in front of me wasn’t Castello.
“Who are you?” I pushed my back flat against the wall, adrenaline surging through my veins, my heart hammering in alarm.
The man glanced from one corner of the room to the other, his hands casually tucked into his pants pocket.
“Nice little room you have here.” He stepped in, his sleeked back dark hair shining under the lights. He shrugged. “It’s not one of the most elegant rooms in the house, but I guess for someone like you it would do.”
The malice that oozed out of him, the threat that slithered along with every word he spoke made my skin crawl. This man had trouble written all over him…trouble for me.
“Who are you?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Where are my manners?” He stepped forward and held up his hand, a creepy smile plastered on his malicious face. “My name is Nicollo Fattore. I’m the big boss’s cousin.”
I didn’t shake his hand. I didn’t want to come near him since every alarm bell went apeshit inside my head.
“How did you get in here? What do you want?”
He pulled back his hand and lifted a brow. “You sure are cheeky for a girl in your position. Has Castello not beaten any manners into you yet?” He rubbed his chin with his thumb and forefinger. “Oh that’s right, he didn’t have time to teach you any manners since he was too busy fucking you.”
My body went rigid, fear curdling inside my stomach. This man wasn’t here to make conversation, and he sure as hell didn’t come here to help me.
He took off his grey suit jacket and tossed it on the chair. He started to leisurely pace up and down while loosening the buttons of his white dress-shirt sleeves. “You know, for someone who’s supposed to be the fucking boss, your boyfriend isn’t very bright. One would think that he had the brains to know he needed to wipe the security feed if he wanted to fuck and sample the woman he’s supposed to kill.”
Oh God. My stomach twisted, my insides burning like it had been wrapped in barbed wire. The savage look in his eyes terrified me. While he rolled up his sleeves like he was about to do something that might get his clothes dirty, pure menace radiated from him.
“Please…” I slowly stepped to the side.
A sly grin slid onto his face. “I see he has taught you how to beg though.” He gave a step forward, and my heart started to thrash against my ribs, every survival instinct I had screaming for me to run. And I did.
I launched forward, trying to run past him. But he reached out, grabbed my elbow and pulled me back.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”
He threw me back onto the bed with such force, I hit my head against the headboard. I cried out, then felt his slimy hand cover my mouth while he lifted his body onto mine.
“Shh. No need to wake the rest of the house.”
I thrashed, smacked, flayed, did everything I could to try and get him off me.
“That’s right, bitch, fight me. It only makes my cock hard.”
His hand moved an inch and I managed to bite into the side of his thumb, the metallic taste of blood immediately assaulting my tongue.
“Fuck!” He struck me, my skin instantly on fire as his palm collided with my cheek. “Now I’ll just have to fuck you harder before I fucking slit your throat.”
Strong hands gripped both my wrists above my head. Within seconds he straddled me, casing me in, my adrenaline induced strength no match against his. His thighs gripped me so tight that I only managed to move my hips a little in an attempt to break free.
I screamed, but this time his fist came down hitting the side of my face. Stars exploded as pain blasted through my skull. For a second my mind went hazy and registered nothing other than pain and fire. My head throbbed, every bone in my face aching like it had been cracked in half.
I opened my eyes, my vision blurry, my mind disorientated. Nicollo was on top of me, but I couldn’t do anything. It’s like my mind had completely shut off, unable to tell my body to fight back. I watched in horror through teary eyes as he loosened his pants, pulling out his disgusting cock, and no matter how hard I willed my body to fight, I couldn’t.
“Please don’t,” I begged, trying to move, desperate to stop him.
“Oh I’m going to, and you’re going to fucking love it.” He jerked my legs apart, hands and fingers invading me, touching me, probing me. Warm tears burned my skin, and I bit into my tongue, the metallic taste bursting through my mouth. Everything about this man, the way he smelled, the way he touched me was vile and revolting. His stinking breath in my face had me choking and gagging while my lungs demanded air.
He leaned down and licked the side of my face. I started to weep, my skin crawling with disgust. His lips moved against my ear, his hard body gliding over mine.
“I saw you ride my cousin. You rode him like a fucking champ. You should have seen your face when he stuck that cock of his inside your dirty pussy. Your face, your eyes, the way you arched your back when he filled your filthy cunt for the first time, you loved it like the cheap whore that you are.”
Every malicious word sliced through my chest, inflicting so much pain. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move. My body was stone cold, my spine frozen in place. It’s like there was no more blood flowing through my veins, but only ice.
“Now let’s see what your face looks like when a real man fucks you.”
I cried. I cried so hard my sobs drowned out every other sound around me.
“Please don’t. Please…”
Through tear stained eyes I watched as the man on top of me reared back, my legs held wide open. The evil face that hovered above me was consumed with hate and lust, the two things that were about to rip through my body and destroy me for good.
I gagged, my stomach churning when he moved between my legs, his hand touching and brushing against my skin as he guided his cock toward my entrance. I closed my eyes and screamed before he forced two fingers inside my mouth, pushing deep to the back of my throat. I continued to gag, my body readying to throw up as he kept forcing his fingers deeper into my mouth.
This was it. I couldn’t scream, I couldn’t move, and I couldn’t fight. All I could do was lie there, my body about to be defiled and corrupted.
I felt the pressure between my legs as he move
d…and then there was a loud explosion, a crack that shattered the air. It felt like a boulder had been dropped on my chest, and warm liquid splattered onto my face. My ears were ringing, the rapid beating of my heart the only sound that infiltrated the buzz inside my head.
I opened my eyes, and tried to breathe, but I was smothered with something heavy…until it got yanked off me.
“Tatum?”
I looked up and saw Castello’s face through the haze.
“Tatum, are you okay?”
The ringing inside my ears dissipated as my mind and vision became clearer, color and sound slowly returning.
“Tatum?”
He pulled me up, and my head spun, a throbbing ache pushing against my skull. I wiped my palms across my face, and when I opened my eyes, my vision now crystal clear, I saw that my hands were covered in crimson…blood.
My heart stopped.
I looked at Castello who was crouching in front of me, dark eyes fixed on me with concern. “Are you okay? Tell me you’re okay.”
“What…”
I caught sight of the gun in Castello’s hand, then looked to the floor. There was Nicollo, with only half a face, lying in a pool of blood.
Oh my God.
I swallowed hard, bile pushing up the back of my throat.
“You shot him.” I looked up at Castello. “You killed your cousin.” I never thought I’d see the day where I would be thankful for someone’s head being blown off.
He took my hand in his. “Come on. We need to get you out of here.”
He helped me up, and the second I managed to straighten, I looked into his eyes. “Why did you come back?”
With a gentle touch he tucked my hair behind my ear. “I came back because I was there.”
“Where?”
He held out a white sheet of paper. “Between those jumbled thoughts you needed to sort through. I was in there somewhere.”
I glanced down at the paper and saw the same image I had drawn on the other sheets…only this time there was a scar across the side of the man’s face, and one pupil was elongated in the shape of a teardrop.