by SJ Molloy
“I wanted it and I loved it. I’m not angry at you. I … enjoyed it. You help me feel. I wanted to do the same for you. I just wanted to help you to forget. I’m damaged, Lucca, but not because of this. I’m damaged because I’ve broken you and I thought this would fix you, not make you worse.” I nervously bite my lip.
“Dolcezza, do not ever think that. You have not broken me. You have made me. You are right, I did need that, and it helped because the thought of losing you is slowly destroying me. The feel of you and knowing you are aroused drives me insane. That was amazing for me. I love to own every inch of your glorious body and be that intimate with you. It did help me forget, but now I am angry with myself for putting you at risk and in that situation.”
He presses his nose against my cheek, holding my face with one palm, then skates the other down to my tummy, showing our baby love from the heat of his palm.
“You didn’t put me at risk. We had rough sex, yes, but amazing sex. It’s not as if you were beating me up. The baby is completely safe. I trust you and I needed it too. Hell, I asked for it. Those orgasms nearly ripped me apart, and you gave me that. It was incredible. I love you.”
His facial muscles relax and he flutters those beautiful, dark lashes at me. The colour of his eyes brightens along with his loving smile. “I love you, dolcezza, so goddamn much that it fucking tears me up.”
Deep-rooted fear.
I kiss him softly, a contrast to our recent roughness. It’s light, sensual, and sexy, our lips barely touching. Pausing, I take his face in both my hands and share my thoughts.
“Lucca, I need you to promise me that you won’t deliberately get drunk when things get tough and you stress. If you need to exert that anguish, I want you to love me, lust for me, and use my body if it helps, but don’t get yourself wasted.”
“I am not going to use you, Lexi. The love and lust I will always have for you, but I am not using you. Fuck, I could never do that.” He looks offended I even suggested it.
I don’t reply because it’s exactly what I asked him to do a short while ago, and boy, did he do it. I don’t object because when I need to take advantage of him, I know he’ll willingly allow me to do so. He already did in BarAsta that night.
He lowers himself to kiss my tummy and whisper sweet promises to our baby as he tickles my lower abdomen with his stubble. I carefully play with his hair with one hand as the fingers of my other hand lazily waltzes along his shoulders. My body hums, still sated from our rampant fucking.
I feel myself drifting off to sleep.
“Lexi?”
“Hmmm?” I mumble.
He scoops me up in his strong arms with my toiletry bag in his hand and takes me to the shower. My head is so heavy I struggle to keep it up. Lucca washes my hair, my sex, and up and down my legs with my soapy sponge. Then he runs his hands over my ass and kisses my skin. He lifts me out the shower to dry me off then combs my hair, running my leave-in conditioner from my scalp to my ends. He rubs body butter all over me and wraps me in a towel, placing me on the bed while he shaves and brushes his teeth.
I don’t remember him dressing me, but when I wake up I’m fully dressed and sitting on Lucca’s lap in the main cabin. He holds me close to his chest and lifts my hand up to his mouth, placing soft kisses on it.
“Hey, I need to put you back in your seat for landing. You feeling okay?” He brushes my hair behind my ear. I don’t want to move. I don’t want him to let go of me. Ever.
“I’m tired and still feel a little sick. Where’s Mum?”
“She just woke up. She is getting washed and dressed. I think her sleeping pills have made her quite groggy.”
I’m about to go and get her to check she is okay when I see her return looking a little fresher than before. I reach my hand out for her. She stops by our seat and leans over, takes my hand and places a tender kiss on my head. I pull her into me and wrap my arm around her waist, kissing her hand and telling her everything is going to be okay while Lucca plays with my hair and rests his chin on my other shoulder.
I’ve been leaning over to cuddle her for so long that I have uncomfortable muscle cramp. I stand up and stretch, which feels good, then hold her in a warm embrace, rocking her in my arms while she sobs quietly against my cheek. I swallow down my fear and anguish but don’t cry. I want to be strong for her. If there is ever a time she needs me, it’s now.
Once I’m back in my own seat, I lift my journal out of my handbag. Lucca smiles at me and reaches for his engraved pen from inside his blazer pocket and passes it to me. I place a hand over my abdomen and think of our baby—our next chapter.
Taking Casey’s advice, I begin writing on the empty page with a new approach. With colour.
I focus on my aspirations as opposed to writing about my fears, the past, and harrowing memories. It’s time to write new, happy memories. I begin with how I feel now, today at this very minute, so that I can reflect and hopefully accept that these emotions are a fragment of my past.
Dark Black
Today, again I run … I run to safety.
I am petrified.
I am confused.
I am empty.
I am vulnerable.
I am angry.
I am shocked.
I am exhausted.
I am hurt.
I am sick.
I am anxious.
And I am nervous.
Nervous of the unknown. Nervous of what tomorrow brings. Nervous my new found happiness will be taken from me. Nervous to become a mother. Nervous I might get hurt. Nervous Lucca might get hurt. Nervous of losing Lucca. Nervous of losing the baby. Nervous I get dragged back to Hell and becoming black.
Nervous of losing my light. Forever.
With that being said, I turn a page and write how I want to feel, how I imagine my happily ever after will be and will myself to believe I’m deserving of everything Lucca promises me.
I write about the lust, love, and light I feel for Lucca. I scribble meaningful words from deep within my heart and know this is how I want to feel. Always.
L’amore.
The love is Lucca’s Love.
It’s Lucca’s love that’s going to see me through the next chapter of my life and keep me in his light. His Luminoso.
I don’t know what my future holds, but I know this—I don’t intend to live my life in the dark. I need light. Our baby needs light. We need light.
I am loved.
I am in love.
I am loving.
I am confident.
I am carefree.
I am happy.
I am blessed.
I am positive.
I am bright.
I am grateful.
I am desirable.
I am secure.
I am strong.
I am safe.
I am protected.
I am complete.
When I read over the words I’ve scrawled, I realise Casey’s intentions by asking me to do this.
I am all these things with Lucca.
He has me.
He makes me feel.
Closing my journal, I turn around to see Mum back in her seat and writing in her own journal.
I place the pen down and watch her. No … I admire her. I’m so proud of her in this moment that she’s utilising the journal I bought her and hope it brings her the some comfort as it has done for me.
She’s an inspiration, and I’m glad to have her here with me. I don’t want her to suffer anymore. Alone.
We will get through this together with love.
Our love.
The love.
L’amore.
The End…
For Now
Epilogue
Michael Parks
Inferno Burning
After Michael arrived in Glasgow last week, he drove to the safety deposit box in the town centre to pick up his supplies left for him by his reliable source. He drove up north towards the Scottish Highlands on the warm Monda
y afternoon then swapped his hire car in Perth for a burgundy coloured estate car.
His reservation for the small room in Newtonmore was under the name of Uuka Benadi, the false South African Immigrant and whose name he would be using. It’s far enough away from the church but still close enough for driving, Michael thought, pleased with his location.
Michael unpacked his trolley case and holdall, stripping out of his stuffy, smart tailored clothes. He dressed in jeans and a casual tee. The owner of the guest house had offered him hot food, but he declined. Instead, he chose to eat sandwiches which he bought from the same shop where he picked up the hired vehicle. He did not want to get close to anyone while here. After all, this was a mission and he would do well to maintain privacy. Discretion was essential.
Michael brought up the blueprints of the church on his smart phone. The desolate forgotten crypt underneath the ancient church would be the perfect dungeon for torturing Alexis Roberston. He wanted to be prepared for meeting Cathy and desperately needed this position, so he studied the church’s undercroft and grounds. Michael knew it was a clever decision to use the church as a base, and it would be the making of his devious plan.
“Uprising,” he muttered, hissing through his teeth focusing on the diagrams.
It was not by coincidence that this church would be his target. The contacts that Damien Thomson assigned to scout out the area researched the inconspicuous location and discovered the crypt under the chancel.
Somewhere out of prying eyes, somewhere underground, and somewhere sacred.
Symbolic.
The next morning Cathy offered him the position of groundsman and caretaker until the Church of Scotland sent a replacement. She gave him the tour, rambling on about the history of the church, the local area, and even about his retired predecessor. Michael remained impassive and quiet. He kept to himself and went about landscaping the lawns and gravesides. Cathy gave him a key to the church, and he spent the next week staying until late into the night.
He set up an area in one of the cavern like rooms within the crypt with all his tools, and sourced an old mattress and other supplies. He would eat and occasionally sleep in the dungeon undercroft.
Cathy’s manse was off limits for now—she had cleaners and church elders frequenting and various visits from members of her congregation. He didn’t want to raise suspicion, so he deliberately stayed out of Cathy’s way. She was of no use in this mission.
Until his first Sunday …
Michael’s source had discovered Grace Robertson’s address on some private acres uphill just outside the village. He drove to the property to assess. He watched patiently. He was looking for patterns and routines. His plan was to enter the property when everyone had left then he would search out information on the evil little bastard whore Alexis.
He was forced to leave when he noticed security of some sort standing on the front porch behind two black SUVs. He realised then that the family must have protection, which would mean that they were aware he was in the country. This complicated matters and made things more challenging. He would need to stay underground in the crypt and perhaps seek assistance from his contact.
While Cathy performed her Sunday service, Michael exited the vestibule and sat on a bench around the back of the church. After smoking three Marlboro cigarettes, contemplating what his next step would be, he closed his eyes, until the heavens opened up and unleashed an almighty torrential downpour.
He entered the vestibule and lifted his long black coat and golf umbrella. Exiting the church to cross the graveyard, something caught his eye. Through the lashing, wet rain he stared in disbelief, gritting his teeth together and clenching his fists until his knuckles were white. He bite so damn hard on his lip that he drew blood.
Blood … sweet blood!
He couldn’t be positive but instinct told him the vision of beauty staring at him could be Alexis, the whore from his past. He never thought of her as his half-sister; the thought made him sick. She wasn’t worthy of that title because she had taken his father’s life, her own father’s life. He thought of her as a piece of fucking scum who should never have been born and who deserved to pay and suffer for her sins.
The brunette beauty turned around and stared at Michael. Those timid chocolate eyes made her look like deer caught in the headlights, as if she instinctively sensed his presence. There was no mistaking those eyes. Fear.
It was her. It had to be, Michael thought.
This was his only chance, so he had to follow her to confirm his suspicions. The tall, bulky, dark haired man holding his blazer jacket above her head was not the brother because he kissed her on the lips. He had to be her partner.
Well shit!
“Inter-fuckin-fering son of a bitch,” Michael cursed, then he noticed the same black SUV that was outside Grace’s house this morning. “Fuckin’ entourage.” He hissed.
He would need to follow the vehicle to be sure. Not wanting to lose his chance, he turned on his heels and headed for his own hidden car parked on the side of the church out of view. He followed the ridiculous fucking sports car and black SUV into a gas station.
“Rich bastard,” he spat, watching the motherfucker driving an Aston Martin. He was sure the girl caught a glimpse of him, so he used the opportunity to drive off before she realised it was him.
He spent the next two days following the girl. He couldn’t get too close because of the rich bastard and the arsehole pricks protecting her. Each time he thought of her at the stables, his cock was instantly hard. The image of the whore with those little denim shorts on hugging her tight little ass and those long dark legs and her hair in a braid imprinted into his mind. He visualised yanking coarsely at that very braid while he brutally took her from behind and tore her apart.
He reached the climax of his masturbation, spitting her name as rage fuelled his whole body imagining her incoherent screams. He slumped on the mattress in the inhospitable crypt and devised a new approach.
It was time for a new tactic. Michael took advantage when the minister disappeared. He trashed the manse, ensuring it looked like a breaking and entering, searching for information about the rich bastard. He would need to study this fucker in order to get to the girl. Find his strengths and weaknesses and every detail right down to his national insurance number.
Nothing …
He couldn’t find anything of importance and assumed the rich bastard wasn’t from here. He was about to give up when something piqued his interest, finding crumpled wrapping paper in the trash can. He studied the brown paper and found an address on the back, a church in Uddingston, South Lanarkshire.
He copied the address then placed the paper back in the bin. He called his contact and gave him the registration number of the flashy fucking sports car the bastard had been driving around in to see what came up. He waited patiently back at the room in the guesthouse.
He opened a bottle of vodka and slugged it down just as his phone alerted him of mail. Scrolling through, he found all the details he needed.
The empire—Osurac Industries flagged.
Property … Health … Fitness … Club di Energia … Construction … Property … Italian … Hospitality … Entertainment … Restaurants … Events …
The next paragraph detailed a chain of clubs linked to Lucca Caruso.
Luminara …
Bingo!
He finished the rest of the vodka, allowing the poison to burn through his veins while he formed his plan with vengeance. Michael knew he wouldn’t get close to Alexis here with her protectors around her, so he needed to lure her to him, all in good time, and the rich bastard’s empire was somewhere to start. He would find something or someone to use as leverage. In the meantime, he would taunt, intimidate, and emotionally scar her. If she were vulnerable and pathetically weak, she would be easier to break before he shattered her.
Deleting the information, he threw his belongings into a bag and looked for another fake identity and credit card. Before heading
to Glasgow for his new mission, he had some business he would take care of first.
He cast his mind back to the stables, his cock straining against his jeans.
The inferno burning.
Heat flaring.
Flames scorching.
Fire blazing.
The stables.
He would leave her a message that she would not forget.
“Fucking Bitch. Fucking rich, useless bastard and her meddling, godforsaken family,” he spat after he wiped his release from his lower abdomen then fisted the wall in rage.
Patience. He would wait.
He’d hurt the ones closest to her and lure her to him. He’d torture her and keep her in misery until her time was up and she begged for life to be taken from her. Dark black was the colour of her life … and is the colour of her afterlife.
Alexis Evangeline Robertson is going straight to Hell.
To be continued …
Glossary of Characters
Primary Characters
Alexis Evangeline Robertson (Lexi): Sweet, caring physiotherapist with a private clinic within Club di Energia; a young beautiful woman with deep dark secrets and insecurities. Scarred by her past, she’s learning to trust and break her rules in order to discover lust and fall helplessly in love with Lucca Caruso.
Lucca Caruso: Italian/Scottish wealthy business entrepreneur. CEO of Osurac Industries – Property Development & Management, Hospitality & Entertainment, and Health & Wellbeing Clubs. Handsome, virile, insatiable, romantic, charming, and possessive. Falling quickly and deeply in love with Lexi, sweeps her off her feet, protects, loves and cherishes her with endless promises.
Secondary Characters
Grace Robertson: Lexi’s mother. Abuse survivor. Beautiful, fragile, emotionally vulnerable, loving, caring and protective.