Under Her Skin

by Michelle Love

Danny looked relieved and Penny looked close to tears. She put her hand on his arm.

  “Thank you, Enda.” She sighed, wiping away her tears. “I tried to finish it with Jackson …he won’t accept it. He just cuts me off. I can’t do it anymore, Enda. He’s …abusive. He cheats constantly. And he …” She broke off and shook her head. Enda and Danny exchanged a concerned glance. Penny didn’t have to say anymore. That Jackson beat her was obvious.

  “You don’t have to worry about it anymore, Pen,” Danny said.

  Enda nodded. “Is there somewhere you can stay while he gets the message?”

  Penny nodded, looking over at Danny. “We’ve just bought an apartment in Palo Alto. He’ll have no clue we’re there.”

  A week later, Penny had called Enda in hysterics. “It’s Danny. He was in a hit-and-run. Oh god, oh god, they’ve taken him to the hospital, but it’s bad, Enda, so bad. I know it was Jackson …please, can you come?”

  He raced to the hospital, but it was too late. Danny was pronounced dead on arrival, and Enda had to help a hysterical Penny while processing his own shock. Was Jackson really capable of murder? He didn’t want to believe it, but something in his half-brother’s make up made him think he would be. A month later, his worst fears were realized.

  A still-grieving Penny left her office just after eight p.m. and went down to the parking garage. She got into her Mercedes and was distracted by her phone ringing. She smiled when she saw who was calling.

  “Hey, Enda, how are you?”

  “I’m okay, sweetheart. I was just thinking about you. How're things?”

  “I …”

  Penny never got to tell him. From her backseat, a masked attacker pounced, one arm curling around her neck. When she grabbed at his arm to try and prize it free, he drove a knife into her stomach again and again. Penny screamed until she could no longer breathe when the blood loss and shock grew too much. Her killer was savage and merciless, stabbing her again and again until she slumped in the seat. In her last moments, she could hear Enda screaming her name and the final whisper of her killer.

  “Jackson Gallo wants you to know—nobody leaves him.”

  With a last thrust of the knife, he stabbed Penny in the heart and ended her life.

  Enda would never forget that night. The sound of a defenseless woman being brutally murdered …and the worst thing was, in the midst of it, Jackson had walked into the room where Enda was with a triumphant look on his face, and Enda knew, for sure, his half-brother was a murderer. Enda flew across the room and punched him, the brothers rolling around until Olivier pulled Enda off Jackson. Enda stormed out of the room, calling the police as he got into his car and sped to Penny’s office. He got there just as the police arrived. He would never forget the sight of Penny, slumped in the driver’s seat, covered in blood. She had been butchered. That much was obvious. Enda had no compunction in telling the police everything he had heard and that he thought Jackson was behind the murder.

  Jackson was questioned about Penny’s murder, but never arrested or charged. There was simply no evidence against him. Penny was buried, at her request, next to Danny, but at her funeral Jackson played the part of the grieving boyfriend perfectly. Staggered by the lack of justice wrought by Jackson’s position and billions, Enda was repelled by him and had left the country. He’d stayed away from his family since then—even Olivier, who he adored. Olivier had finally flown to Italy to plead with him not to abandon him and Mac, just because of Jackson. It had taken some persuasion, but finally, Enda agreed. When Olivier told him, a few years later, that Jackson was marrying Amalia, Enda couldn’t help but feel a chill go down his spine.

  When he found out the circumstances of the marriage, the arrangement, and the coercion of Amalia Rai to marry Jackson, Enda had felt the shock keenly. Enda determined then to go to the wedding and make sure that the signs weren’t there—that Jackson had finally fallen in love for real.

  He had been disappointed, but not shocked, when he saw in his younger half-brother the same possessive contempt that he had shown Penny. Amalia was there to be his property. Enda was pleased to see that Amalia hadn’t been as subservient as Jackson would like, even on her wedding day. And when he, Enda, had made love to the beautiful bride in the garden just hours later, he’d seen her strength.

  He just hoped it was enough to save her life.

  Ama was relieved when Olivier accompanied them home. “I just want to talk to dad for a while,” he said, but she knew he was there to keep the peace, at least until Jackson calmed down. Enda had been desperate to do the same, but she had shaken her head at him. I don’t want him to guess, she tried to communicate with her look, and she thought Enda had gotten it. God, she was crazy about that man, though. She would call him later, when it was safe.

  She went to her room as soon as she got home and began to run a bath. Going back into her room, she checked the door was locked, then propped her usual chair underneath the handle. God, what a way to live. But Jackson scared her. There was violence in him, she was sure, and it wasn’t far from the surface—ever. Ama knew Olivier and Enda thought so too.

  She stripped off and sank into the tub, feeling the soothing water ease her aching body. She ached from tension constantly now. The only time she ever relaxed was with Enda, naked and gasping for air in his arms. God, that man …

  She slipped her hand between her legs and began to rub, thinking about the last time they’d made love. It had been a slow, leisurely afternoon of making love, Enda cradling her in his arms as his cock plowed deep inside her. God, would she ever get tired of this? He had flipped her onto her stomach, parted her buttocks gently, then asked if she was sure. She had nodded, and he had eased into her ass, his other hand stroking her clit. She’d come almost violently, surprising herself. When he’d wrapped his tie around her wrists and fucked her, holding her hostage to him and his huge cock. She’d loved every moment of being dominated by him. Even when she was straddling him, he was in charge, impaling her on his cock, gripping her hips with strong fingers, and cumming on her belly and breasts.

  Amalia could hardly bring herself to leave him every day, and she fantasized now about going home to him in the evening. About opening the front door, only to be greeted by his fierce kiss, his hands pushing up her skirt, and his cock thrusting into her as he fucked her hard against the wall.

  Ama gave a soft moan as she stroked and dreamed her way to an orgasm. Relaxing afterward, she wondered if she could call him later and maybe indulge in some phone sex.

  That man has turned you into a nympho, she grinned to herself. God, I love you, Enda Gallo.

  Her eyes flew open and she gasped in shock. Oh god …she did love him. She was completely in love with the man.

  “Shit,” she said and got out of the bath. Love complicated everything, and it made her uneasy. What if she couldn’t hide it much longer? What would Jackson do?

  And she didn’t want to risk Enda’s position in the family. From what he had told her, he had loved being a part of it, for Olivier’s sake at least. The two Gallo’s she loved with her whole heart would be hurt and she couldn’t stand that.

  She dried herself, wrapped the towel around her, and went back into her bedroom to dry her hair. She was lost in thought as she grabbed her brush.

  “Nice show you gave me there.”

  Ama gasped and whirled around. Jackson was leaning against her door, smiling nastily. Ama reddened at the thought of him watching her masturbate.

  “What the fuck are you doing in my room, asshole?”

  Jackson smiled, then in a flash, he had her by her throat. “Watch what you call me, wife. I’ve had just about enough of your insubordination.”

  Ama kicked out at him, struggling to get free. He clamped a hand over her mouth.

  “Ssh, ssh …” He lay on top of her. He took out his phone and showed her a picture. “Do you recognize this apartment?”

  Ama went cold. “It’s my sister’s place.”

  “That’s righ
t. Now, this photo was taken, oh, about three minutes ago. Your sister’s alone there right now.”

  Ama stopped struggling. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  Jackson grinned and kissed her, grinding his mouth down on hers. Ama tasted blood. “One of the two Rai sisters is getting fucked tonight, Amalia. It’s up to you which one.”

  Ama’s horror was overwhelming. “You bastard …you leave her alone, you fucking bastard.”

  Jackson grinned. “That sounds like a decision to me.”

  He yanked her towel away, admiring her naked body. “God, it’s about time I got to see the goods. You’re so fucking sexy …”

  He was unzipping his fly now and Amalia started to cry. Would he really have Selima raped if Ama didn’t sleep with him?

  Yes. You know he would. Oh my god …

  Jackson pushed her legs apart and thrust into her, and Ama cried out. Jackson clamped his hand over her mouth again. “Now listen to me, whore. I’m going to fuck you every night of our marriage, and you’ll let me, or I swear to god, I will hurt everyone you care about. Everyone. And I’ll finish with you, Amalia. I swear to god. And if you ever leave me? I’ll kill you. I’ll rip you apart.”

  He continued to thrust as silent tears poured down Ama’s cheeks. She closed her eyes as he pumped away, his cock shooting thin streams of cum inside her. No. No, this cannot be happening.

  He pulled out, satisfied. “Guess I got the worth of the bride price now.”

  Ama curled up in a ball and sobbed. Jackson chuckled. “Get used to it, little girl. I mean it when I say I’ll destroy you if you tell anyone about this. Anyone.”

  And then he was gone.

  Ama stayed curled up on the counterpane, shocked to her core about what had just happened. Rape. Jackson had raped her. He’d threatened to have her family attacked and threatened to kill her.

  How the hell was she ever going to survive this marriage? Her burner phone vibrated in her nightstand drawer, but she couldn’t face talking to Enda—not to the man she loved when the man she despised had just done this to her.

  Ama wanted nothing more than to go to sleep and never wake up.

  Raffaelo Winter bear-hugged his good friend Enda as soon as Enda saw them alight from the private plane. Inca, Raffaelo’s exquisite wife, was grinning and rolling her eyes at them. Enda laughed as Raffaelo released him and he embraced Inca.

  “Hello, gorgeous. Still married to this wretch, then?”

  Inca smiled at him. She had stunning eyes, he thought, warm and loving, and her face was perfection. Her long, dark hair was caught up in a ponytail, and she was adorably scruffy in t-shirt and jeans. Enda was hit with the thought that she and Ama would have a lot in common. Both Indian-American, both gorgeous talented and funny.

  They chatted as they drove in Enda’s limousine from Raffaelo’s private jet, and Enda marveled at the easy love between Raff and Inca. They had been through hell together, but were still as in love as ever. Raffaelo, his dark curls now cropped close to his head and flecked with silver, sported a beard which made him look, according to Inca, like a ‘sexy grumpy professor.’”

  “And who knew my kink was sexy, grumpy professors?” she joked, and Raffaelo ran a finger down her cheek, grinning.

  Enda felt a spark of envy. How he would love to have this open, joking, fun relationship with Ama, but over the last week, she had been subdued and withdrawn. She told him she was just tired, but even though they had known each other for such a short time, he knew she was holding something back from him. When they made love, she clung to him as if she wanted to never let go, but it was tinged with a quiet desperation.

  Today, though, she would meet up with him and his friends in public, ostensibly to discuss the music school idea, but really, Enda hoped, just to bond with his friends. The music schools would provide good cover for Ama meet up with him and Raff, and if she and Inca were to become friends …

  “Hey, Enda? You in there? When are we meeting Amalia?”

  Enda checked his watch. “Are you sure you don’t want to go back to the hotel and get some sleep? We’re not due to meet her until one.”

  Inca colored slightly. “We, um, slept on the plane.” She and Raff exchanged a conspiratorial grin, and once again, Enda felt a pang of loneliness.

  As they were seated at the restaurant, Enda looked up to see Amalia entering and speaking to the maître d’, then glancing over to him. Her face lit up when she saw him and he stood to greet her.

  “Ciao, Ama. Great to see you.” It felt weird to kiss her on the cheek, rather than taste her sweet mouth. She looked beautiful, but he could see dark violet circles under her eyes, and she looked like she had lost some weight. Her cheeks were slightly hollowed, and there was an air of sadness around her. What the hell was going on?

  Enda introduced her to Raffaelo and Inca, the latter of whom hugged the other woman. “It’s so good to meet you.”

  Ama smiled at her. “And you. I’ve heard so much about you both. And, damn, Raff, you and Enda could be twins.”

  Raffaelo grinned. “I already have one of those, but I know what you mean. Good to meet you, Ama.”

  Enda wanted so badly to hold Ama’s hand as they sat together; he had to be satisfied with just sitting by her, breathing in her perfume.

  Inca grinned at him, and he realized she had guessed exactly what Ama meant to him. He was glad. The four of them chatted easily throughout dinner. Inca and Raff told them they were contemplating adoption, but at the same time, enjoyed their independence.

  “I love having Tommaso and Bo’s kids to stay, but when they go home, I have to admit, I’m exhausted. So …we don’t know. Maybe kids aren’t for us,” Inca shrugged and smiled at her husband.

  “Maybe not,” he agreed and laughed. “It would be harder for us to go on one of our adventures.”

  Inca told Ama about their penchant for travel. “We went to Peru last year, hiked up to Machu Picchu, and went to the Convento de San Francisco Ossuary.”

  “That was creepy. Entirely made out of human bones.” Raff shuddered, but Inca grinned.

  “I loved it. The worst was that rope bridge you made me walk across. God.”

  “Wuss.”

  Inca play-punched his shoulder. “The words ‘hand-woven’ and ‘bridge’ should never go together.”

  Enda, watching how easy and playful his friend’s relationship was, couldn’t help but slide his hand along Ama’s thigh. She started, dropping her fork, which slid from the table. “Oops, sorry.”

  She bent over to retrieve it, and her shirt rode up, revealing a strip of creamy, golden skin …and the very definite imprint of a boot, bruised into the skin of her side and stomach. Enda’s breath caught in his throat and Inca, who had seen it too, met his gaze in alarm.

  Jackson. The bastard. The fury burned in Enda’s throat, and when Ama sat up, tugging her shirt down and flushing, he saw her reaction to his confusion.

  Lunch was subdued after that. Raffaelo seemed a little confused by the sadness that had come over the other three, and when Enda and Ama said goodbye, he hugged his friend.

  “We will get together soon, yes?”

  Enda nodded, not trusting himself to speak. The two men watched the women hug, and Inca whispered something to Ama, who nodded, tears in her eyes.

  Enda took an un-protesting Ama back to his apartment and poured them both a whiskey. As she sipped, he lifted her shirt and studied the horrendous pattern of bruises on her stomach, back and sides.

  “He did this.”

  She nodded, looking shattered. “Yes.”

  “That’s it. I’ve had it. I don’t care about anyone else but you. You need to leave that house tonight.”

  “No.”

  “No?” Enda was astonished.

  “I can’t. He …he’ll hurt people. People I care about.”

  “He’s hurting you!”

  “I can take it.”

  Enda lost it then. “How can you be so blind? You’re an
intelligent, brave woman and he’s reducing you to what? His punching bag? Is he doing anything …?” He only got part way through the question before he realized. “Oh, dear god …is he raping you?”

  Ama gave a sob and nodded. Enda took her in his arms. He wanted to kill Jackson right there, right then. “What’s he holding over you, baby? What is it?”

  She told him and he closed his eyes. He had no trouble believing Jackson would have Selima or anyone else Ama loved hurt or even killed. He could understand how Ama thought she was backed into a corner. Bastard.

  Enda sat down with her on his couch. “Ama, I know you want to protect your sister. I do. But I think there’s something you need to understand about Jackson. He’s …psychopathic. My father won’t hear it, and Olivier struggles with accepting it even though he knows it’s the truth. Has Olly told you about Penelope?”

  Ama shook her head, looking desolate and exhausted. “No.”

  Enda took a deep breath in. “Penny was Jackson’s girlfriend, of sorts, a few years back. They didn’t date for long; Penny could see what kind of man he was. So, she tried to end it. Jackson, of course, is never dumped. By anyone. When Penny met someone else, Danny, Jackson had them both murdered. Danny by a hit-and-run driver. Penny was stabbed to death in her car.”

  Ama looked as if she was going to throw up. “Jesus. Jesus.” She bent double, wrapping her arms around herself. When she looked up at Enda, tears were flooding down her face. “What if he does the same to Selima?” Her voice was barely a whisper. “I might leave him, but what if he has her killed before I’m even down the driveway? At the very least, he’ll destroy my father’s business.”

  “Inca saw the bruises too. What did she say to you?”

  Ama smiled through her tears. “She told me all I had to do was ask and she’ll be there for me. I love her already.”

  Enda took her in his arms. “I’m so scared for you, baby,” he said softly. “I swear, we will find a way out of this.”

  Ama nodded, pressing her lips against his. “I don’t want to go home, just for tonight. I’ll tell him our meeting with Inca and Raff went late, so I decided to stay in the city with friends.”