by Sophia Gray
Then I thought of Zelda and realized that there was just no choice. I had to save her.
Chapter Seventeen
Zelda
I was trembling, I couldn’t help it. For the last few minutes it seemed like everything was suddenly moving at light speed, going so fast that an unbelievable amount of things had happened in only the blink of an eye. I watched as Nester came bursting into the room, my unexpected knight in shining armor.
I had resigned myself to my fate. Santos was going to have his terrible, wicked way with me and then he was going to give me to his men. He was going to pass me around like some sort of sick toy until everyone had gotten a piece of me. And then, maybe, I would have been lucky enough to die. It was terrible on levels that I didn’t think I could live through—who could?—but there wasn’t anything I could do about it.
When Santos had undone his pants and begun to stroke himself, growing hard at the thought of raping me of all the horrid things out there, I had felt a sickness overtake me. I was going to lose my mind, my sanity, my self-worth. Everything that I valued.
And then I would never have even the smallest chance of getting Nester back.
It seemed like a stupid, trivial thing to think about in that moment. Santos was on top of me, pinning me down, and his men were everywhere, inside and outside of the house, and he was about to do terrible things to me against my will—and Nester was what I thought of. I thought of how angry he’d been, and how terribly hurt he was, too. I thought of how we had loved each other for so long, cared for one another, promised to always be there for each other. And then I thought of how I had fucked that all up.
I’d abandoned Nester for all the right reasons. Santos had propositioned me and I accepted only as a means of protecting Nester from a worse fate. There was, realistically, no chance of me and him getting back together and I had known that at the time. When Santos told me to dump Nester and be his girl instead, I had known that he would never let me go afterwards. Sure, Nester was in prison for only five years, but my fate with Santos was a lifetime. But I told myself that once Nester was out, we could work that all out. We could find a way to get away from Santos, to run and never look back. I could save up money in an account that Santos didn’t know about. I could purchase a car that he didn’t recognize.
And I had done many of those things. I hadn’t been able to get a car, because I had to make a choice between buying a new car and saving up enough money to live decently, if modestly, for several months before I could get a job. But I figured that I could use my car to at least get out of town and then I could sell it and use the money to get a new car. The important part was getting away.
It was the reason that, when Santos told me to drop out of school because it was “unbecoming” of a woman, I didn’t resist as strongly as maybe I would have under normal circumstances. School was expensive and if I was just going to run anyway, then there wouldn’t be money and time enough to do both. So I sacrificed my schooling—a lifelong dream, though I tried not to dwell on it—and put that money towards a secret savings account instead. It had the added benefit of making Santos happy, making him feel as though he had won something. That he was in control of me.
But he wasn’t. He had never been.
Not until tonight. Santos wasn’t the kind of man who just hit a woman for no reason. But he wasn’t the kind of man who never hit a woman either. He was all about control, about making sure his women were listening, were obeying like good little housewives. And I hadn’t given him any reason to doubt that I was just that. It was self-preservation to some extent, but it was more, too. It was also about how I knew he had an unnatural amount of control over what happened to Nester in prison and until Nester was out, I couldn’t risk that he would do something terrible to him.
So I obeyed. I was dutiful. I dressed and talked and ate what Santos liked. I was the kind of woman he wanted and that kept me safe, or at least unharmed.
But then Nester got released from prison, time served. And everything changed. I hadn’t wanted to think about how hurt and angry Nester would be after what I’d done, but of course he was. As soon as I saw him on my doorstep that day, I knew he was. And I knew that he had every right to be. He didn’t know what I’d done—not the full extent of it anyway—or more importantly why I’d done it. How would I have felt if he’d broken up with me and suddenly began dating some other woman? Worse still, what if I’d known that woman my whole life and she’d spent most of it trying to make me miserable?
I would have been furious, of course. That’s the only reaction to have. A very normal, human reaction.
But some part of me had convinced myself that I could explain it all away and we could go back to being normal. We could live happily ever after and not worry about Santos or anyone else ever again. But of course things weren’t that simple and I was naïve to think they could have been. A week before Nester was released, Santos came to me. It was just like any other time over the course of the past five years. Santos would come to my house and we’d sit and talk. Or rather he’d talk and I’d try my hardest to listen dutifully, because that was what he wanted from me. It suited me, too, in all fairness. I would rather sit there and listen to him drone on and on about things I couldn’t care less about than have to try to converse with him about things I really cared about. I didn’t want to get to know Santos or for him to know me. In my mind, I had relegated this to a business arrangement, period. If he wanted more from me, well, we were going to have issues.
But he never did. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Of course he did want more from me. He wanted me sexually, of course, but I was able to put off his advances with “I’m not ready” and “we’re moving too fast” and “I want us to do this right and be married first.” All of these had infuriated him, but he’d obliged.
Then that night a week before Nester’s release came.
There was a knock at the door and I went to it quickly, knowing already that it would be Santos. He’d been coming over almost every night for the last two weeks and though I was tired of him, I knew there was no way to get around it. This was part of our deal, part of my agreement to be his girl, even if it would never be anything short of a lie.
I pulled open the door to find that Santos was dressed in a suit tonight. It wasn’t wholly unusual, though he wasn’t above jeans and t-shirts, too. It just depended on what kind of a mood he was in—and what his purposes were. If he was riding with his gang, he preferred to look the part. Whether that be jeans or leathers, either way, he looked like a rough and tumble terror on two wheels. Which was of course the point.
But tonight he clearly had other things in mind. I wasn’t sure if he’d changed into the suit before heading this way—not wholly unlikely, though I could see it either way—or if he’d had some sort of meeting beforehand.
Santos had recently gotten into real estate and construction. As a result, he wore suits more and more often these days, saying it was important to show them that he wasn’t just some dumb slob. That he was a businessman and one with some real backing and power. I figured that a suit wouldn’t really do all of that for him, so he might as well just wear what he liked, but Santos wouldn’t have listened and I didn’t bother wasting my breath on telling him.
“Hi,” I greeted him, leaning forward to kiss him. I did my best to keep the kisses chaste but affectionate, though it was difficult. It was important, though, that Santos feel like I was making an effort, no matter what I was actually feeling for him. “Are you hungry?”
I figured he wouldn’t be, but I wanted to make sure that I asked so that he wouldn’t get annoyed and say I was being a poor hostess or something along those lines. I also had something ready to be thrown in the oven on the off chance that he said yes. Another one of those precautions that ensured everything would run smoothly, though it was little more than act and show.
“Not tonight, honey,” he said, tapping my chin with his forefinger in a sign that was probably either affectionate
or possessive. Or both. “I thought we could just chat instead.”
I nodded my agreement. “Of course.” He stepped into the room and I closed the door behind him, taking just a moment longer than necessary so that I could settle myself and prepare for the long night ahead. I would have to be attentive, but not smart. He didn’t care much for smart women in the end. After a pause, I turned and followed Santos into the living room. He’d taken a seat on the couch, which was unfortunate, because it meant I would have to sit right next to him. If he’d gone to a chair, then I could sit in another chair or the couch and he wouldn’t think anything of it, but the couch meant I had to sit right beside him. I had to let his arm drape across my shoulders. I had to cuddle up to him.
It sent a shudder of disgust through me, but I was mostly used to it. I told myself Santos was a decent guy. I told myself that he took care of me. I told myself that maybe he even actually cared about me, because those were the things I had to tell myself otherwise I would never have been able to last this long.
Plastering a smile on my face, I plopped down into the seat beside Santos and did my best not to cringe or tense as he wrapped his arm around my shoulders, just as I knew he would.
“We’ve been together a long time now, haven’t we, Zelda?” he asked, surprising me. When Santos and I had our conversations, it was generally on a topic that focused solely on him. How was his day? What has he been working on? Who pissed him off? What did they do? Why did they do it? He deserved so much better. This was completely out of left field and for a moment it had me completely caught off guard.
“Um,” I stuttered for a moment. Usually these conversations required less involvement from me. “Yes, we, um, we certainly have.”
He smiled at me, all teeth. He wasn’t an unattractive man, though I personally felt not physical draw to him. It was one of those chemistry things that I had just never been able to fake. It was especially hard because I had been with a man with whom there was passion and fire and chemistry. H had been all consuming and it was hard to go from that to this.
“I think we’ve really gotten to know each other, haven’t we?” he continued, his hand stroking my arm.
I wanted to squirm away from him, but I managed to keep myself right where I was and forced a smile. No, I honestly did not think that we’d gotten to know each other. Santos didn’t know the first thing about me, nothing honest anyway, and he’d been playing some sort of role the entire time with me, so there wasn’t a damn thing honest between us. But that wasn’t the answer Santos wanted to hear, so I nodded my head. “Sure. I think we’ve come a long way.” Far enough that I wasn’t sure if Santos realized that I was still pretending, that I had been pretending all along. Which was more dangerous than I realized, but how could I know?
His smile widened and he pulled me closer. I let him, forced myself to relax against him and even placed a hand on his firm chest, palm flat. I could feel his heart beating out a steady rhythm beneath my hand and knew that it was impossible that he felt chemistry with me with a heart that was so steady, so unaffected. I tried not to think it, but I did anyway: Nester’s heart always beat like a jackrabbit when we were together. Too eager, too thrilled, too passionate to be ignored.
“I think so, too,” Santos told me seriously. He used his free hand to grip my chin between his thumb and forefinger so that he could turn my head to look me in the eye. I swallowed harshly and hoped he couldn’t notice. “And I think that, after five years together, we should take things to the next level.”
I couldn’t help it; I froze.
The next level? Surely he didn’t mean… Sucking in a harsh breath, I maintained my smile, but told him, “Santos, dear, you know that I don’t want to…um, well, to take the next step before I’m married. It’s very important to—”
He released my chin and waved that same hand in the air dismissively in front of us. “Don’t be stupid, woman, I remember.” He sounded briefly irritated and I winced.
I worked hard not to irritate him, but this was one of those things that simply could not be helped. I had to stand my ground on this, because I couldn’t give it up. I couldn’t lose this piece of myself, not to Santos. I couldn’t lose the last memory I had of Nester and me together.
Santos sucked in a steadying breath and when he spoke again, he was calm once more. “I remember, my sweetheart. What I am saying is that I think it is important that we take the next logical step to that end.”
I frowned at him in confusion. “What are you suggesting, Santos?”
His grin was wide as he dug into his pants’ pocket, reaching for something buried there. I felt a sudden spike of nervousness in me. What was he doing? What did he mean the next logical step? And to what end?
Santos pulled out a small velvet box from his pocket and I froze. Dawning realization swept me. There was no questioning what was in that box and there was no more question as to what Santos was getting at. I wouldn’t sleep with him before marriage. He wanted to sleep with me. He really wanted to sleep with me.
Enough to marry me.
“Zelda Rivers, I am asking you to be my wife. Would you do me the honor?” He opened the velvety box as he popped the question, revealing a diamond the size of a small country. It glinted and glittered and was probably incredibly expensive. There were women across the country who would have swooned at the mere sight of it. But that didn’t matter to me. As soon as I laid eyes on it, I felt disgust roll in my stomach.
No, was my immediate reaction. No, I would not marry Santos DeArma. Not for all the money in the world. Not for anything.
But then I met his eyes. His grin was suddenly sinister and I understood with sudden, intense clarity what was really going on.
Santos was proposing because, yes, he wanted to sleep with me. But it was the timing that really tipped me off. On some level, this really was about the sex. Santos wanted nothing more than to have me, he always had, and while I was willing to give him kisses and sometimes groping—though I detested it—I would never give him more, no matter how he pushed. But his reasons for wanting sex from me were…more complex than I would normally give him credit for.
He wanted to sleep with me because, on some level, he thought I was beautiful. Or maybe just sexy or whatever. He saw me as a womanly object to be possessed and thoroughly used. It wasn’t a notion I appreciated, but there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.
There were other reasons, too, though. He wanted to sleep with me because Santos needed control. He didn’t like that I withheld this one thing from him—a rather important thing in his little mind—and that I stood so defiantly against him, unyielding. Santos didn’t like limitations imposed on him and he definitely didn’t like the concept of me having any sort of self-determination.
But the third reason was the one that I hadn’t considered until right now in this moment.
Santos wanted me because I belonged to Nester.
In one week’s time, Nester would be released from prison. Of course I knew that. I had been counting the years, the months, and then finally the weeks. Now I would count the days and the day before his release, I would count the hours until he could come home.
Not to mine, of course, but that didn’t stop a girl form dreaming.
Was it really any sort of coincidence that with only a week to go, Santos was proposing marriage to me? Was it any coincidence that he would marry me and then proceed to fuck me just before Nester was free? I shuddered at the idea
He probably wanted a shotgun wedding, too. Maybe in Vegas or someplace equally as gaudy.
All of these thoughts raced each other through my head and made me angry. Angry enough that I wanted to throttle him, wanted to curse him and spit on him and yell at him that I was a person and had a right to feel whatever I wanted to feel. I wanted to tell him that he couldn’t control me and he would never have me.
But with a shock, I realized that I couldn’t.
Nester was still in prison and with only a week to go, I
knew that he still wasn’t safe. Not from Santos. But there was more than that. If I said no, then Santos would do something else. Something worse. I didn’t know what it was, but I could feel it like a snake wrapping around my windpipe, threatening to crush it if I said the wrong thing.
And with the despair that only came with this kind of defeat, I realized that I had to say yes. For Nester’s safe and for mine. Santos would never let me go, and it broke my heart, because I could no longer delude myself with notions of running away into the sunset with Nester.
This was my life now. I would never get away from Santos.
Forcing a smile that I was sure he had to know was fake, I breathed out, “Yes.”
If I’d known what was going to happen that night, I would have shoved that ring down his throat. Because we were already in trouble. All of us. Santos was a monster and now he had a gun stuck against my head, holding me in a vicelike grip that I knew from experience I couldn’t break free from.