Under Her Skin
Page 109
Ama winced now. The wound in her side from the glass at the conservatory had been patched up by whomever had brought her back to Jackson, but the dressing felt heavy. She eased it off and moaned. The wound had been stitched, but the skin around it looked angry and red. Infection. Fuck. If blood poisoning killed her, Jackson would have no reason to release Selima or even keep her alive. Ama knew, with a sinking heart, she would have to ask him for help. She stumbled over to where the camera was pointing and indicated her wound to it.
“It’s infected,” she said, not knowing if the room was bugged or if anyone could hear her. “I need antibiotics.”
She sat back down on the bed, feeling feverish and sick. Ten minutes later, the door unlocked, and Jackson entered, followed by a smaller, nervous-looking man.
“This is Dr. Harris,” Jackson said shortly. “He’s here to help you.”
Ama nodded and tried to smile at the doctor. “My wound is infected.”
Dr. Harris sighed and looked at Jackson. “I told you, Mr. Gallo. That wound is deep. I tried my best, but I’m not a surgeon. She needs to be in the hospital.”
Jackson’s face was blank. “Not going to happen. Dr. Harris, I assume you realize what will happen if Ama dies of this infection?”
The doctor looked sick, but nodded. “I will have to take some blood, though. I will try to get them processed quickly and anonymously. In the meantime, I’ll clean up the wound and give Mrs. Gallo some antibiotics.”
“You do that.”
While he worked, Ama looked at Jackson. It had been three days since that first time they had slept together, and Jackson had demanded sex multiple times a day ever since. Ama had tried to act as if she enjoyed it, while dying inside, and Jackson had responded. He’d brought her extra blankets and pillows, extra food and drink, and some books. She wondered if, now, she could ask for the thing she wanted most.
“Jackson …may I see my sister, please? Even for five minutes? I’ll …make you happy later.” She flushed scarlet as the doctor gave her a strange look, but Jackson nodded.
“Fine. Five minutes.”
She was locked up alone while Jackson took the doctor out, then he returned to her. He tied her hands behind her back. “Just in case you decided suicide is an option and try to attack me,” he said. “I’ll untie them when you’re with Selima. You can have an hour with her today, but I expect you to be ready for me with a smile on your face this evening. Understand?”
Ama nodded, nothing but the excitement at seeing her sister in her mind. Jackson led her through the corridors of the facility. Ama couldn’t see any windows anywhere and quickly realized they were underground. The thought made her miserable. How the hell was anyone supposed to find them?
As they walked, the corridors began to look more polished, and by the time they reached Selima’s room, they could have been in a four-star hotel. Jackson opened the door, and Selima turned, the shock on her face when she saw Ama obvious.
“Ama!” Selima burst into noisy tears as Jackson untied Ama’s hands and left the room. Both of the sisters heard the lock click, then they were in each other’s arms.
“I can’t believe he’s got you here,” Selima said. “What happened?”
“He had someone on the inside, I think. God, it’s good to see you, but I wish I weren't, if you know what I mean. How are you? Has Jackson …?”
She couldn’t get the words out, and Selima, seeing her distress, shook her head. “No. He hasn’t touched me, I promise.” She looked bleak. “He killed Chase, Ama. He killed my boyfriend.”
Ama shook her head. “No. Chase is alive, Selima. I swear. He’s in a bad way, yes, but he’s a fighter, and god, he loves you. He’s a great guy.”
Selima’s tears returned, and Ama hugged her while she cried with relief. “Oh, thank god. Thank god.”
Ama buried her own tears in Selima’s hair. “I’m so sorry, boo, about all of this. It’s my fault. I should never have married him …we could have found another way to get you away from that disgusting ex of yours.”
Selima sniffed back her tears and wiped her eyes. “You know that’s not true. He would have killed me rather than let me go if Omar’s men hadn’t made sure he couldn’t find me.”
“God,” Ama said, fierce now. “What the fuck is wrong with these men? We’re not objects to own, assholes!”
She yelled it out loud, and Selima smiled. “That’s more like it.” She sighed. “I’m glad Chase is okay. At least no one else got hurt.”
She must have seen something in Ama’s face, then, because she paled. “Who?”
Ama hesitated. “Inca. Jackson had her attacked. She almost didn’t make it.”
Selima looked sick. “Inca? Why the hell?”
Ama’s mouth hitched up in a small smile. “Jackson doesn’t like it when beautiful women piss him off and treat him like a child. He is that petty and that dangerous. He hired two men to stab Inca to death and it’s a miracle she survived …again.”
“She’s okay?”
“I wouldn’t say that, but she’s out of danger. I think, anyway. I’ve been here for three days and I’m not sure how long I was unconscious.”
She told Selima of the circumstances of her abduction, and then her confusion about Lena’s involvement. Selima listened with a grim expression on her face.
“That fucking bitch,” she spat. “I don’t think there’s any doubt, Ama. That two-faced …”
“They killed her, Selima,” Ama’s voice broke. “In front of me. He slashed her throat, and I saw her die. She’s been my assistant for years …I don’t know why she would have done this. Until I know the reason, I can’t condemn her …I just can’t.”
Selima hugged her sister tightly. “Right. I know. I’m sorry.” She sighed. “Look, it’s my own fault I’m here. Enda wanted me to have protection, but that night, I just wanted to be alone with Chase, so I gave them the slip. Stupidly. Chase was shot and I was taken. If I had just …”
“I think we can go round and round on what we both should have done, but the person to blame for all of this is Jackson.”
Selima studied her sister. “He’s making you sleep with him, isn’t he?”
Ama nodded. “It’s a small price to pay for your safety.”
Selima gagged and dashed into the small bathroom of her suite. Ama, nauseated too, followed her, looking around the small room. No windows. Ama was beginning to feel claustrophobic. “We’re underground, aren’t we?”
Selima nodded. “Yes.” She glanced up at the camera and mic above them, then grabbed Ama’s hand, leaning into hug her to hide what she was doing. She traced a word onto Ama’s palm, just like they had when they were young and keeping secrets from their parents.
Fresno.
Ama was shocked. God, they were so close to home … She opened her mouth to ask a question, but Selima shook her head. Right. They were being watched.
For the rest of the hour, they lay together on Selima’s bed and talked about neutral things …food and their uncle’s house in Hyderabad where they had spent many happy summers growing up. Ama didn’t talk about Italy, or Enda, or their life there. She picked up from Selima to keep all their discussion’s neutral and inoffensive. Maybe if Ama ‘behaved,' they would be allowed to stay together more often. Maybe even permanently. If they could spend the night together, when the lights were out they could communicate via their childish language and figure a way out.
Later, the guards took her back to a different suite, not too far from Selima’s, which was again like a hotel room. On the bed was a box containing a note, some expensive-looking lingerie, and a beautiful dark red evening dress. Ama read the note.
Bathe and change into these items. Tonight, we will dine in your new suite, and then you will show me how grateful you are. If you please me, we will talk about your living arrangements and those of your sister.
Ama wanted to cry. She closed her eyes and sat on the bed. Was this actually happening? Forced to have sex with a man and pretend it was all s
he wanted in exchange for the lives of those she loved. Really, how did Jackson expect all this to turn out? It was then she realized—or rather, acknowledged—what she already knew. She, Ama, wasn’t meant to get out of this alive. Jackson would make her subservient to him until he grew tired of her, and then he would kill her and move on to his next obsession.
In that case, she thought fiercely, I will make sure Selima gets home, and I will do anything to make that happen. And if I’m destined to die …I will make damn sure Jackson comes with me.
She went into the bathroom of the suite and ran the water into the tub. A selection of toiletries were lined up. She had to admit that, when she stepped into the warm water, it was a relief to be clean again. On the countertop were some packages of new underwear and fresh dressings for her wound.
She lay back in the water and let her mind drift to a happy memory. Back in their villa in Italy, their own tub was a vast iron antique that took a half hour to fill, but was the most comfortable she’d ever been in. She and Enda would soak there, kissing and talking as the evening moved into night. Often their lovemaking would begin in the tub.
The night she remembered what happened a few months back. Enda had been late home from work and Ama had been composing a new suite for her students to study when she returned to work. She had forgotten the time, and it was only when she looked up that she had realized it was past eight o’clock. As she always switched her phone off when composing, she’d checked her messages and realized she had missed a call from Enda. She’d called him back.
“Ciao, Bella.”
She’d grinned. “Hello, gorgeous. I’m sorry I missed your call. I was writing.”
“I thought you might be. Listen, I just called to say I’d be late and I wondered if I should pick up a pizza for dinner?”
“As long as we can eat it in bed.”
Enda had laughed. “That’s what I was hoping. God, what a day.”
“Good or bad?”
“Good, but busy. Raff and I might have a track on some investors who are interested in the music schools.”
“Sounds fun.”
“Ha,” Enda had chuckled, “Fun will be the building of the schools. This is the boring, but worthwhile part. How’s the writing going?”
“Okay …I’m not overly happy yet, but it’s getting there. Where are you now?”
“Outside Lucio’s,” he’d said, mentioning their favorite pizza place.
“Good, so you’re on your way home.”
“I’ll be there in a few, cara mia.”
She’d met him at the front door, wearing only one of his white shirts. He’d grinned as he’d carried the pizza inside, stopping to kiss her. “I’m the luckiest man alive.”
“You bet you are.”
The pizza had gotten cold, while they were kissing, they’d tumbled to the floor, Ama stripping his jacket and tie off and Enda’s hands pushing his short from her beautiful bod. He’d pinned her down on the cold, hard tile of the lobby and taken her there, Ama screaming his name as his cock plowed into her, her hips burned as he pressed them further apart.
Afterward, they’d eaten pizza in bed and then soaked in the bath. It hadn’t been long until Ama, who had been laying back against Enda’s chest, turned and straddled him in the water, stroking his cock and then impaling herself on it. She’d gazed at her lover, his dark curls wet and sticking to his face, his smile and his green eyes so full of love for her. God, he was glorious.
“I want to marry you, Enda Gallo. Someday. When I’m free from Jackson and when all of this is over. No big ceremony. Just you and me on a remote island, away from everybody else. It doesn’t even have to be legal—just enough that you know how much I love you and how much I will love you for as long as I live …”
His arms had tightened around her, and his kiss had been fierce and full of passion. “I can’t wait, Amalia, my Principessa. As far as I’m concerned, I’m already your husband.”
If only that were true, Ama thought miserably as she dressed for a ‘romantic’ dinner with the monster who was legally her husband. She pulled on the lingerie he had bought her absentmindedly, then changed the dressing on her wound. She hoped the antibiotics would kick in soon. At least a decent meal would do her good.
She was ready when Jackson arrived, followed by one of his guards pushing in a trolley loaded with covered plates. The guard left immediately, and Jackson locked the door.
He looked her up and down. “You look beautiful, darling.”
Ama gave him a half-smile, trying to make it look genuine. “The dress is lovely. Thank you, Jackson.”
He beamed. “See how much nicer things are when we are civil? Please sit, Ama, and I will serve.”
She sat down obediently, and Jackson put a covered plate in front of her. He made a flourish as he pulled the cover off, but then laughed—almost a giggle, like a naughty school boy. A small handgun sat on the plate. “Oh, silly me, wrong plate.” He leaned in so his face was next to hers and Ama tried not to cringe away from him. “That’s what I’ll use on you if you do anything—anything—to displease me during this dinner, darling. You’ll get three and your sister will get the other three. Now, can you promise me we will have a good time tonight?”
“Yes.”
“Louder.”
She met his gaze. “Yes, Jackson.” You had better pray I don’t get my hands on that gun, Jackson, because if I do, you’ll wish you’d never been born. She gave him a wide smile and kissed him lightly.
Jackson drew back, smiling. “Good.” He tucked the gun into the back of his waistband and swapped the plates over. This time, when he lifted the cover, Ama nearly swooned at the smell of the food underneath. A perfectly cooked T-bone steak oozing with garlic butter, a baked potato, and some lightly-cooked vegetables. Despite her fear and anger, Ama’s mouth filled with saliva. Jackson seemed pleased at her reaction. He sat at the opposite end of the table while they ate, the handgun resting next to his hand.
The food was good and Ama suddenly realized she was starving. Jackson poured them some red wine and Ama sipped it. She wondered if she should, given the tablets the doctor had sent for her, but she would do anything to get through this.
She started to feel strange as they finished their entrees. Her head was swirling. Too much wine? As she picked at the fruit salad Jackson had given her for dessert, she started to feel out of it completely. Maybe I’m just exhausted, she thought, but her skin felt like it was on fire.
Jackson was watching her carefully. “Something wrong, darling?” His grin was wide.
Ama started to stand, knocking her wine glass to the floor. “Jackson …did you put something in my drink?”
He laughed. “Just a little something to relax you, Ama. Don’t worry, it won’t harm you. Just make things go a little smoother between us.”
Her vision was blurry. “Jackson …I don’t feel so good …”
She stumbled toward the bathroom, but Jackson caught her in his arms. “It’s okay, darling. Just relax into it.”
She felt herself being carried to the bed, then her skin felt cool as Jackson peeled the dress from her. “Just pretend I’m my bastard brother, Ama …” His voice sounded far away and her limbs felt like liquid.
When Jackson’s cock thrust into her, she was barely conscious, but still, the rocking motion and the smell of him made her want to throw up. Play your role. Don’t forget he holds all the cards here. Say his name.
“Jackson,” she whispered and heard his satisfied chuckle.
“Good, good …now, Ama, this is only the beginning of the evening. I have a surprise for you.”
Ama was so out of it, by the time Jackson had cum, she barely felt him pull her up into his arms and carry her from the room, draped only in the bed sheet. He strode down the hallway with her, and before Ama could try and see where he was taking her, he was walking into a darkened room. “We’re going to have some different kind of fun tonight, my darling.”
He set her down
onto what felt like a wooden bench, then adjusted the lighting. Ama, blinking to try and wake herself up, felt a jolt of shock go through her. From the ceilings, hung chains with cuffs on the end. A large, wooden bed with stocks and St. Andrew’s Cross stood at the other end of the room. On one wall, whips, paddles, restraints, and harnesses hung from hooks. On another, a huge flat screen T.V. On a credenza under the T.V., knives lay out.
Oh god, someone help me.
It was a bondage room, but it had Jackson’s twist on it. It wasn’t a place of experimentation, of BDSM, or of loving adventure, but a torture chamber. He wanted her humiliated, scared, and in fear of her life. That’s what turned Jackson on.
She looked back at him, and his face was alive with desire and triumph.
“Before you left me for the bastard,” he said. “I was planning to have this built in our home—after Dad had passed, obviously. Eventually, after the two years were up and you were going to leave me, I would have brought you here for one last time. One last time before I killed you. I was never going to accept you leaving me, Ama. You know that now, right?”
Barely conscious and terrified, she nodded. Jackson took her in his arms. “Now, there are two ways this evening could go. One…you try to enjoy it and make me happy, and you live. Your sister lives. The other …” He nodded to the case of knives. “I use all of them on you. They won’t even bother to count the stab wounds, Ama, I swear to you. I’ll take my time, and you will know what hell feels like.”
“Why?” Ama said now, her voice barely more than a whisper, “Why me? Why all of this just for me? Why did you try and kill Inca too?”
Jackson grinned. “Speaking of which …”
He grabbed the remote control and on the flat screen, the video of Inca being stabbed played. Ama gave a cry of distress.
“I’ve watched this over and over again, just enjoying the terror and pain on her beautiful face. The way the knife slides into her belly like butter. The way the blood blooms across her dress.”
Jackson looked back at Ama, who was trembling uncontrollably. His eyes were cold and dead, and now Ama saw the madness within. “I wish I had ordered the men I sent to kill Penny to film it too. I didn’t even think about it until I ordered the hit on Inca.”