My Masters' Nightmare Season 1, Episode 12 Confrontation
Page 1
MY MASTERS’ NIGHTMARE
SEASON 1
EPISODE 12
“CONFRONTATION”
Marita A. Hansen
Like a television series, My Masters’ Nightmare is broken up into episodes. A new episode will be published approximately every 3 weeks until the season has ended. There will be fifteen episodes in Season 1. After Season 1 is finished, the surviving characters will be moving to The Santini Brothers series.
CONTENTS
Copyright
Acknowledgements
Recap of Episode 11
1 Alessandro
2 Andriena
3 The Padre
4 Rita
5 Camila
About the Author
Other Books by Marita A. Hansen
Copyright
My Masters’ Nightmare
Season 1, Episode 12
“Confrontation”
Kindle Edition
Copyright 2014 © Marita A. Hansen
Cover design © Arijana Karčić, Cover It! Designs
Cover Photography by Artranq
and sourced from http://depositphotos.com/
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means whatsoever without the written permission of the author, nor circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. For subsidiary rights inquiries email: marita.a.hansen@hotmail.com
All characters, names, places, and incidents in this book are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual events, locales, or real persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
I would like to say a big thank you to my beta reading team for this episode:
Andrea Braccio
Laura Purdy
Carol Allen
Your help is greatly appreciated.
Recap of Episode 11
Camila continues to push herself onto Jagger, but soon learns what unwanted attention feels like when a Landi soldier comes onto her. After the soldier rapes her, she starts planning his death—setting Rita up to take the blame.
Jagger thinks he’s losing his mind, his past memories now mixing in with the present. When he discovers that Honey is behind it, it’s too late, the drugs she’s put in his food leaving him at her mercy.
Even though Rita wants to stay with Frano, she knows she has to leave him, so she can rescue her brother from the Donatelli, who will kill Lucan if she doesn’t go to them.
Alessandro, Bianca, and Andriena leave for the Santini compound, not knowing that danger is following close behind. The Donatelli run their car off the road. Bianca escapes, but Alessandro is caught, the Donatelli holding him at gunpoint.
Episode 12 begins...
1
ALESSANDRO
The weaselly little fucker pointed the gun at my head, ordering me to get out of the car, while another soldier headed for a small white cottage, holding an unconscious Andriena. The place was far too quaint and pretty to be the hideout for the nastiest mafia famiglia on my island. There was even a colorful array of spring flowers surrounding the building, making it look like a little old granny’s home. But like the candy house in Hansel and Gretel, nothing but evil lurked inside.
“Please, Alessandro, get out of the car,” Leo said.
I pushed out of the back seat, imagining snapping the bastardo in two. But I couldn’t do merda, because my hands were tied behind my back. Though, if he came closer, I’d go for him, taking the traitor out.
Leo lifted his gun. “Don’t even think about it, Alessandro.”
I glared at him, furious he was doing this to me. He was a fucking Rosso, a cousin of my sister’s husband, yet he was helping the Donatelli. The Rossos were supposed to be allies. My brothers had even risked their lives to help Leo’s famiglia. They had gotten a number of the Rossos off the island, away from the Landi, who wanted to kill every last one of them for the deaths of Pedro’s daughters.
“If Ricardo knew you were doing this to me, he’d gut you,” I said. “No, he’d pulverize you with his bare hands.”
Leo flinched, his face draining of color. And he had a right to be fearful, because my oldest brother was vicious. Ricardo wouldn’t think twice about beating someone into an unrecognizable pulp. If anything, he wouldn’t even think about it, because once Ricardo fell into a blood rage, he went on autopilot, the man a killing machine. He’d done it with one of my previous kidnappers. My brother Dominic had tracked down the man, bringing him back to the house. Ricardo had then dragged him in front of me. I’d only been sixteen at the time and still terrified of my kidnapper. But that terror had quickly turned into horror as my brother beat the man into nothing before my eyes, my kidnapper’s screams forever haunting me. I hadn’t wanted that kind of revenge. After almost dying, I hated anything to do with death, even when it was one of my enemies sucking in his last breath. Instead, I had wanted the man in prison, rotting away for the rest of his life, rather than become nothing within seconds. Because he wasn’t nothing to me; he’d shaped my life, and when he died, a little piece of me died with him.
“I’m being forced to help the Donatelli,” Leo said, finally finding his voice. He was from the ass end of the Rosso hierarchy, a two-bit hustler who took care of the drugs and whores. And he looked it. The fifty-something male was dressed in a cheap suit that should’ve been destroyed after the seventies. His shirt’s lapels were bigger than Dumbo’s ears, while the pinstripes on his pants made his legs look twice as skinny. And to top it off, his comb over was covered in enough grease to fry a factory load of eggs. Everything about Leo screamed sleaze. Still, I hadn’t thought he was capable of stooping this low—especially not when it came to double-crossing my famiglia.
“Is Sergio in on this?” I asked, hoping my brother-in-law had nothing to do with the Donatelli. I liked the man, and not only that, he was the father of two of my nieces and one of my nephews.
“No.”
I breathed out in relief, because Ricardo would’ve killed Sergio in retribution. “Who out of your famiglia are helping the Donatelli?”
“I can’t say,” Leo said, “and if I was given a choice I wouldn’t be helping them either, so don’t take your anger out on me.” He leaned in closer. “But, I will try my best to help you. Just don’t go near the Padre and do whatever Christo asks of you. You might make it out alive if you comply—”
“What are you talking about?” a man barked, cutting Leo off.
Leo shot away from me. “Nothing, Signore,” he said, looking scared, making me believe he was telling the truth. At least it gave me comfort he was still an ally.
My gaze moved to the stone cottage, looking for the owner of the voice. A blond man pushed away from the door and headed our way. He was extremely good-looking, and he knew it, his cocky swagger and grin showcasing his ego. He was wearing blue jeans and a white T-shirt, looking like an All-American boy next door ... just a gay one. There was way too much appreciation in his gaze for him not to be, even more since he couldn’t keep his eyes off my crotch.
“Hello, Alessandro,” he said, sounding American. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”
“Who are you?”
His eyes rose to my face. “I feel insulted that you don’t know me.”
“I’ve never met you, so why should I?”
“Because I’m Matteo Donatelli.” He stopped a few feet from me, his eyes again wandering down my body.
I bristled
at his slow perusal. “Keep your fucking eyes on my face,” I snapped, wanting to rip them out.
Matteo raised his gaze again, not looking slighted at all. “Is that anyway to speak to a fan?”
“What?” I said, taken off guard.
“I’m a fan of your videos.”
I stared at him, hoping like fuck I hadn’t been kidnapped for one of his sick fantasies. I would sooner die than allow a man to touch me sexually.
Matteo cocked his head to the side. “Why are you looking so worried?”
“You kidnapped me because you like my videos?”
“No, my uncle Christo wants to ransom you for some weapons and money. The fact that I’m a fan of your cock is just an added bonus.”
I scowled at him. “If you come near it, I’ll rip yours off.”
Matteo laughed. “Don’t worry; it’s not me you need to be concerned about.”
“Just let me go and my oldest brother might consider letting you keep your skin.”
“Yes, I’ve heard about that nasty bastard. Maybe he’s related to my uncle. Christo would skin an enemy alive too. The only difference is he’d have their skin made into clothing. While me...” Matteo licked his gun. “I’d sooner suck cock.” He put the gun in his mouth, giving it a perverse blowjob. After several seconds, he pulled it out, his blue eyes dancing with amusement. “I can make it worth your time if you let me go down on that fantastic cock of yours. I’d give you a blowjob you’ll never forget.”
“Fuck off!”
Matteo pouted. “Such a spoilsport. I should’ve kidnapped Dominic instead. I heard he’s not averse to fucking men,” he said, referring to one of my brothers. A large smile played across his face. “Is it true he also has a Prince Albert? I looove them, they feel so good up my ass.”
I screwed up my face in disgust. “I wouldn’t tell you, you pervert, and he’s not gay, he’s pansexual, which means your personality would put him off.”
Matteo sniggered, my insults having no affect on him. “Men don’t want me for my personality,” he ran a hand over his ass, “they want me for this.”
Noise came from the house, drawing my attention away from the creep. A priest emerged from the doorway: Padre Michael Donatelli, someone everyone knew.
Matteo glanced over his shoulder at what I was looking at. His expression darkened, all humor gone in a second. He spun around and stormed over to the priest, spewing abuse at him. The Padre ignored him, his eyes staying on me, curiosity coloring his pale blue irises.
Matteo snapped, “Get back inside.”
Again, the Padre ignored him. I remained still, wary of Jagger’s rapist as he headed my way. I was taller than him, but he was just as muscular, which looked odd for a man of the cloth.
He stopped in front of me. “Oh my, you’ve grown into a very impressive man, Alessandro. The last time I saw you, you were nothing but skin and bone, a small boy who wouldn’t let go of his mother’s skirt.” His eyes moved to my chest. “Still, you disappoint me.” He looked back up, a grimace tempering his features. “You should never have allowed the Devil’s hand to touch you.”
“What are you on about?”
“Your tattoos,” he said, waving a finger at my chest.
I looked down at it. The top few buttons of my long-sleeved shirt were left open, revealing a glimpse of my hellish tattoos.
The Padre continued, “You’re an extremely handsome man, with a body people would kill to touch, yet you’ve covered it with images of demons and hellfire. The one on your back is truly horrifying. Why would you desecrate such perfection?”
I gritted my teeth, realizing he must’ve seen my videos too. “You’re a priest; you shouldn’t be watching porn.”
“Satan whispered the temptation into my ear and unfortunately I fell for it. What you did to those harlots,” he grimaced, “it was truly repulsive. You’re an evil boy.”
“I’m not evil, you are.”
“I wasn’t the one doing vile things to the Daughters of Satan.” His eyes wandered back to my chest. “Or desecrating my body with hellish tattoos. But at least you didn’t whip yourself like your spiteful brother did. I couldn’t look upon his body after that. It was too upsetting.”
I inhaled sharply, instantly know who he was talking about. My brother Brando had a penchant for being whipped by women. But I’d thought it was a sexual need, not the result of abuse.
“What did you do to him?” I asked, hoping I was wrong.
The Padre frowned. “Things you cannot understand. Brando was the first angel I saw, then Satan yanked out his wings, damning him for eternity.”
“Stop speaking in riddles and tell me what you did to him.”
“If Brando hasn’t told you, I’m not about to, boy.”
“I’m not a boy, so tell me! What did you do to my brother?”
“I filled him with love, yet all he gave me was hate. He’s a devil dressed in angel’s clothing, a truly evil boy. Only his cold eyes and whip marks betray his true nature. If I could, I would punish him further, but as I said, I can no longer look at him.”
“What are you talking about?”
“He fucked him,” Matteo cut in. “When he says he fills someone with love, it means he’s raped them.”
The Padre spun around. “It does not.”
“Liar,” Matteo spat. “You fucked his brother like Jagger and Thierry, didn’t you?”
The Padre went quiet; his lack of words confirming what he’d done to Brando. Unadulterated rage shot through me. Before I knew what I was doing, I lunged forward, ramming my forehead into the priest’s nose. He hollered in pain and fell backwards, his big body crashing to the ground. Leo and a soldier shouted at me to stop, but I went for the Padre again, kicking the merda out of him. A blow struck me from behind, but it did nothing; my rage too strong.
Someone rammed into me from the side, knocking me away from the priest. I fell to the ground, yelling out as my attacker landed on top of me. I thrashed about, wanting to get back to the priest, so I could make him pay for violating my brother. I wasn’t usually violent, but what he’d done ... even my hatred of death wouldn’t have stopped me from killing him. There was always an exception to a rule—and that sick fuck deserved to go to Hell. My brother’s whip marks were severe, a crisscross of agony carved into his back. I had to detach him from a wall once, the dominatrix having whipped him so badly that he’d passed out. I had yelled at the woman, but she’d retorted that Brando had paid her to render him unconscious, giving her a grand for the job.
More men rushed to restrain me. I continued to thrash about, trying to get back to the priest. A fist struck my face, then another one hit me in the stomach, followed by more to my face. Matteo started yelling at them to stop, but they continued, the last punch turning my world black.
***
I felt the pain before I opened my eyes. My head was pounding like a freight train had hit it with a cargo full of explosives, while my arms were stretched tight above my head, the mattress at my back telling me I was tied to a bed. I yanked at the rope around my wrists, trying to pull free, but the knots were tied too firmly. Movement caught my attention, making me stop, though my heart still raced. I had a fear of being restrained, which had stemmed from my first kidnapping.
Someone sat up next to me. Although it was dark, I could tell it was a woman, their long hair and the curve of their breasts visible.
“Andriena?”
She turned to me. “Sì, Alessandro.” She placed a gentle hand on my forehead. “How do you feel?”
“My head and arms are hurting. Please untie me.”
Her hand moved to my right arm, gently massaging the muscles. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“My uncles will get angry.”
“I don’t care,” I growled. “Untie me. Now.”
“You won’t be able to get away, and you’ll only hurt yourself if you try.”
“I don’t give a fuck!” I yelled, now angry with her.
I jerked my head to the side, dislodging her hand. “Then let me free. They’re going to kill me.”
“No, they’re not, they’re ransoming you. You’ll be given back to your famiglia soon.”
“In what condition? That fucking priest raped my brother. He’ll do the same to me if you don’t untie me.”
“He won’t hurt you, I promise.”
“You’re naive if you believe that.” I yanked at the ropes again, panic starting to rise. “Please untie me, I hate being tied up, I can’t take it, please, Andriena, please, I’m begging you, untie me.” When she didn’t move, I pulled with all my strength, trying to break the headboard I was tied to. It creaked loudly. I did it again, yelling out in fury when it didn’t break. “Untie me!” I shouted, knowing I was fucked if I didn’t get free. I’d become big so no one could hurt me again, yet here I was thirteen years later, tied to a different bed and at someone else’s mercy.
She grabbed my wrists. “Stop doing that, Alessandro, you’re hurting yourself.”
Not caring, I continued to yank at the rope, my mind now locked in the past. My kidnappers had stripped me naked and tied me up, carving hateful messages into my back while they laughed and joked over my screams. They had spat on my naked body, saying I was worthless, and that my father didn’t care enough to pay a cent for me, then had proceeded to beat me until I lost consciousness.
Now desperate, I wrenched at the ropes with all my might, the creak and groan of the bed suggesting I was damaging it. It spurred me on, giving me hope that I could break free.
The light turned on, blinding me for a moment, then cold water was dumped over me. I yelled out, my body jerking in response to the shock to my system. I blinked rapidly to get the water out of my eyes. A man came into vision—Christo Donatelli. He was standing next to the bed holding a bucket, his pale blue eyes colder than the water he’d tipped on me. He was bald and slim, but looked even more dangerous than his twin, his stare twice as fierce.