Dirty

by Ella Miles

  Not powerful enough to control a team of men.

  Not smart enough to make high paying deals.

  And I’m too pretty to be taken seriously.

  My entire life I’ve been ‘worthless.’

  My brothers never said it, but they kept me out of the business as much as possible.

  Now, Dante is saying the same things. I’m worthless. Nothing but a whore.

  My mind believes him. I’m too broken to remember any of the reasons I am worthy. All I can think about is my faults. My body doesn’t work. I’m so bruised and beat up no one would consider me beautiful anymore. I don’t have a college degree. I don’t have a career. I don’t even own a house or car anymore. I live off my inheritance. Inheritance I gained from a father who never loved me and brothers willing to do anything to keep me safe.

  I should be defeated, but every time I hear the word ‘worthless,’ it sparks something in my heart. Something that keeps me alive. Makes me fight.

  I think Dante knows what the word does to me, which is why he keeps using it.

  Dante had his entire team killed in front of me. It was a warning. The same fate awaits me if I don’t do as I’m told. But it didn’t scare me.

  It just made the fire in my heart grow with the need of my revenge. I don’t know what the men did to deserve death, but I know if they willingly worked for Dante, they deserved their fate.

  It didn’t make me sad. It made me happy to see their karma repaid.

  And now, I have a chance at freedom and my vengeance.

  Dante is in the driver’s seat of his white Maserati while I sit in the passenger seat with my head against the window, soaking up every drop of sunlight hitting the window. I won’t move my head no matter how uncomfortable the crick in my neck grows, or how much my forehead burns from the light. Dante thinks I’m resting my head against the window because I’m too weak to move my head, but I’m drawing as much strength as I can from the sun’s warmth, preparing for the coming battle.

  This is the first time I’ve been out of the house since Dante stole me. He doesn’t have any guards with us. They are all dead.

  He didn’t use any ropes to tie my arms or legs.

  He carried me to the car because I can’t walk.

  We are headed to his office so he can enjoy me, while Conti and his team prepare a new security system and team of guards.

  We will be alone. I may not be able to walk, but I’ll fly when the opportunity arises for me to escape.

  I sigh. Large trees block some of my sunlight as we drive through a wooded portion of the road, but it doesn’t stomp my hope. The trees are picturesque Italian. The vines climbing up their trunks remind me of my homeland. I was never meant to be an American like my brothers have accepted. I’m meant to be an Italian. Whatever faces me, at least it will be here, in the motherland.

  My eyes begin to drift shut, but I force them to stay wide. I don’t want to miss a second of the beautiful countryside or the quaint cottages we’ll pass on the side of the road. I try to memorize the path we are taking. All the houses and villages we pass become ingrained in my mind. If I get a chance to escape, I need to be able to find my way to help.

  Dante pulls the car to a stop in front of a row of office buildings, and my heart sinks. Surely, there are going to be people everywhere. I won’t have a chance to escape. I could make a run for it now, but I have no shot against Dante, not in my state.

  He would punish me worse if I ran. And I don’t think I can handle any more broken bones.

  Dante gets out, without a word, and then walks to my side of the car, opening the door and lifting me gently into his arms.

  I let my body remain limp. I will not use an ounce of energy that isn’t necessary. But I don’t know why he is acting so cautiously with me. Are we being watched?

  I look around for a sign of a video camera I can make a plea for help to, but I find none.

  No, Dante wouldn’t work at a place where there are video cameras he doesn’t own.

  He pulls a key out of his pocket and unlocks the glass doors.

  Why does he need to unlock a door, if this is an office building full of people?

  “Don’t worry, whore. It’s Saturday. The building is closed on Saturdays. We are all alone. No one will hear your screams.”

  I bite my lip as if he’s going to make me scream right now. He’s not. He’s gentle so that when he beats me, it will make it feel so much worse.

  My arms and legs dangle as he pushes the door open, and we step inside the building. The smell of paper and air fresheners overwhelms my nose. It’s such a stark difference to the smell of blood and musky men.

  This place is clean and sterile. Dante doesn’t bother to flick on the lights as he carries me down the hallway. He doesn’t look at me or speak as he stomps. He’s a man on a mission. I don’t have to look into his eyes to know the carnage that happened only minutes ago turned him on. Dante loves the blood, the pain, the wrath. It’s who he is. He enjoys killing.

  He wants to take that all out on me. All of his lust and aggression.

  Just as Dante said, we don’t pass anyone as we head down two hallways, then into an elevator, and up five floors. I don’t know what Dante does to make his money. This building doesn’t add any clues. But if I had to guess, Dante’s business is similar to my own family’s business. Dante just isn’t as good at selling weapons as we are. This building is a front; something he can point to when his more nefarious dealings are revealed to the police.

  It’s stupid. The police will never believe him. He needs to have the cops on his side as the Carinis have for years.

  Dante opens a glass door to a large office. Glass walls surround us, while large windows open the office up to the outside light.

  My eyes widen, and my mouth hangs open, as I stare at the office. It’s so normal, bright, and airy. This cannot be Dante’s office. He likes dark. He likes to hide in a cave. He would never work somewhere so open.

  I glance up as Dante’s eyes are searing into my body. I’m wearing clothes for the first time in weeks. It’s just a T-shirt and his boxers, but I’m still thankful to be wearing clothes instead of being naked. But I know from the look in his eyes I won’t be wearing them for much longer.

  My body stills as he tosses me onto a leather couch. He removes his jacket, slowly, as he walks over to his desk. He’s going to rape me again. I can’t take it. Not even one more time.

  My eyes scan his entire office in seconds, looking for a weapon. Scissors, a knife, a hidden gun. Even a stapler. I’ll take anything I can use to inflict pain on this man.

  Dante begins rolling up the sleeves of his crisp white shirt while he stands behind his desk. He bites his lip, and his entire face tightens as looks at me. But he’s not really looking at me. He’s envisioning his sick fantasy in his head. I’ve seen the disgusting look before.

  I pull my legs up against my chest, wrapping my arms around them. It takes a lot of effort to move this little, but it’s worth it to bring myself some level of comfort.

  “Oh, so many things I could do to you, whore,” Dante says.

  My bottom lip trembles as his eyes go wild. I bite my lip, stilling it.

  I will not be afraid.

  Dante opens a drawer at the bottom of his desk. I try not to focus on what he’s pulling out. It’s meant to frighten me, as is everything he does around me. I will not let him win.

  I try staring out the beautiful glass windows, filled with the warmth of the sunlight from the cloudless day. But I still see the items out of the corner of my eye, as he lays them on his desk.

  A whip. Metal handcuffs. A butt plug. A ball gag. And a knife.

  The knife is the only item that makes me react. He used it before on my back. It terrifies me. But it also excites me, for some reason.

  My breathing speeds to unthinkable levels. My eyes water with both fear and excitement at seeing a weapon I could use against him. And my hands tremble in my lap.

  The day
he used the knife was the worst day. Unlike the pain of broken bones or rape that I can easily hide away within the cloud of overwhelming pain. The sharp edge of the blade can’t be hidden. When it pierces my skin, there is no escape.

  I cried. I screamed. I begged.

  It was Dante’s best day. My lowest point.

  I can’t relive it.

  But it’s a weapon. If I was able to get hold of the knife, I could kill Dante. I could get free.

  I purse my lips and let all of the air out of my lungs, sinking into the couch and allowing all my muscles to relax. I haven’t sat on anything this comfortable in weeks. I’m going to savor it.

  I hear Dante’s footsteps getting closer from behind the desk. I should pay attention to his movements so I can react and try to prevent an injury. My reflexes aren’t what they used to be, though. So even if I know a punch or kick is coming, I can’t move out of the way fast enough. I’ve learned to not spend any energy on avoiding his movements.

  “We have hours together, undisturbed. We have an empty building. And new toys to play with.”

  I see Dante spin the knife in his hand. It’s bigger than the last one he used.

  Good. It will be easier to kill him with it.

  A haunting song jolts us both out of our fantasies as his pocket rings and vibrates. He reaches into his back pocket and pulls the phone out. I think he’s going to end the call without answering.

  Instead, he answers.

  “Perfect timing. I need an update before I turn off my phone for a few hours,” Dante says, his lips curling up into a wicked grin to match the darkness in his eyes.

  I grab the throw pillow on the couch and place it in front of my stomach, squeezing hard, like the pillow will somehow protect me from the dangers ahead.

  Dante smirks, lifts the phone from his ear, and says, “That pillow won’t save you, whore. I need to step outside to take this call. When I return, I expect you will be naked, and your cunt dripping wet, waiting for my cock.”

  I grimace as a low growl escapes my stomach.

  Dante’s stare intensifies. “If not, I will punish you.” His eyes shine with a new level of hatred as he speaks. It would ruin his fucking plans if I were naked and my cunt was dripping for him.

  He steps out the glass doors, and I almost consider stripping and doing everything possible to make my pussy wet for him. It would be worth it to see the surprise on his face, but he’d probably punish me anyway.

  I watch as Dante paces outside the glass door. Stupid, fucking glass. What was so beautiful a minute ago has quickly lost its appeal. If it was sheetrock, then I could slink across the wooden floor to his desk and retrieve the knife without him noticing.

  Maybe I still can?

  If I had the knife, I could kill him. Or at the least injure him.

  But if he caught me, it would be so much worse.

  I try to still my body and become invisible. Dante isn’t paying me any attention. Whoever is on the phone has Dante captivated.

  Dante frowns and then keeps walking, out of view.

  My heart stops. He left me alone.

  He didn’t tie me up.

  I’m alone with a weapon.

  I don’t know how long he’s going to be gone, but I won’t wait to see.

  This is my chance.

  I force my body up from the couch. I expect unthinkable pain to roll through my body and drop me back to the couch, but I feel nothing.

  Adrenaline or hope has filled my body, making it impossible for me to feel pain.

  I grin, my cheeks flush, and my body moves. This ends today. I’m either going to be free or die trying.

  I race across the room to snatch the knife. I move too fast and too slow at the same time. In reality, I have no idea how fast I walk.

  I keep one eye on the glass wall, expecting Dante to return into view at any second. When my hand grasps the smooth surface of the black handle of the knife, I feel hope. Real hope.

  I can escape.

  I grip the knife firmly in my hand as I face the door. I could wait for Dante to return and stab him the second he enters. Or I could take my chance and run.

  I tiptoe to the door, keeping the knife hidden down by my side as I lean against the door to see if Dante is just outside the door.

  The hallway is empty.

  My hands are sweaty as I work to hold onto the knife. I don’t have much strength. I’m standing purely on adrenaline.

  If Dante returns, it will take everything I have to stab him. It will just be luck whether I kill him or not.

  I’m not waiting.

  I glance back at his desk and notice a pair of keys. When did he toss his car keys onto his desk?

  I don’t bother trying to remember. I grab the keys with my other hand, and then, after taking one breath filling my body with every drop of air in the room to give me the courage to step into the hallway, I push the door open.

  I open it slowly, ensuring any creaks of the door remain silent.

  Silence.

  I step out, holding onto the door as it carefully closes.

  Silence.

  I look to the left and then right. Dante disappeared to the right. So my feet move left.

  Slow at first. Careful, cautious. But after two steps, I can’t wait to get to freedom. I run or fly. I don’t know which. All I know is my body soars down the hallway and to the elevator. The doors open the second I press the button, and I step inside. My pulse fires through my body as my mind flutters with thoughts of everything that could go wrong.

  I press the ground floor button and catch my breath while the elevator descends. I don’t know what is waiting for me when the doors open downstairs, but I hold the knife out, ready to attack.

  The doors finally open, after what seems like years to my anxious body.

  Nothing.

  I don’t have time to revel in another win. My feet run again. Legs, which aren’t broken, compel my body forward, step after step. And even if my legs are broken, they work anyway.

  I zero in on the door, only glancing to my left when I pass the final hallway before reaching the door.

  Nothing. No one.

  I don’t hesitate as I push the door open and step out into the sunlight. I want to lie flat on the concrete and let the sun heal me, but I’ll have to wait until I’m somewhere safer.

  My feet keep moving quickly as I grab the door handle of the Maserati Dante drove me here in. I pull on the handle, but it doesn’t open.

  I frown.

  Dante has one of these keyless entries. The kind that you don’t have to press a button to enter the car. You only need to have the keys on you, and the doors unlock automatically.

  I fidget with the keys, find the fob, and press the unlock button. Then, I grab the door handle again and pull.

  It doesn’t budge.

  Shit.

  I press the button over and over, but nothing happens. I try inserting the key into the door, but it doesn’t fit.

  These keys don’t belong to the Maserati.

  I look around the parking lot, but there is only one other car. A Fiat. I press the unlock button again, but the car is silent as well. It doesn’t come to life.

  Dante didn’t pull these keys out of his pocket. These keys belong to a different car or a different owner.

  I throw the keys at Dante’s Maserati, watching as a tiny dent forms.

  I smile a minuscule amount. The first smile I can recall in a month. A dent in his precious car is sure to enrage him.

  My feet start flying again, as I move out of the parking lot to the road. I don’t see or hear cars coming in either direction. I have two choices. Run along the road and hope I run into someone who can help me, or disappear into the woods.

  I chose a man last time to help me. It was a mistake. This time, I choose me. I choose the woods. I’ll disappear into the woods. Hopefully, Dante will think I chose the road. I’ll hide in the woods for a couple of days until I can find a way to get to a phone.


  I run across the road and disappear into the woods. I glance behind me but don’t see anyone following me.

  I’m free.

  I take another step though, and my legs give out. It’s almost as if they only had the strength to make it to the edge of freedom, but not enough to finish the job.

  NO! Get up.

  I grab onto a tree trunk and force myself to stand again. I can’t keep running. I have to take things slowly. Very, very slowly. I hate it, but I don’t have a choice.

  It’s okay. I have time. Dante will look here last. I need to find a place to hide in. I could gather some leaves and cover myself and hide until dark falls. Give my legs some rest; then I might be able to move again.

  Or I could freeze or starve to death.

  I need to keep moving for as long as I can.

  “Stop.”

  My legs stop at the command. It’s what they are desperate for: a reason to stop. They’ve done so much and gotten me so far, but they aren’t enough to take me miles from here.

  I grip the knife tighter in my hand as it rests by my side. I don’t know if the man behind me has seen the blade or not. I don’t know if the man behind me is my foe or friend. I lean toward foe.

  I settle my breathing, trying to appear natural, but there is no way any person would take a look at me and think something isn’t wrong.

  I hear the crunch of leaves behind me as the man approaches me.

  My jaw ticks, while the rest of my body remains still. I purse my lips again, letting all the anxiety out of me. One stab. I can get one stab in. It will give me an adrenaline rush again, and then I’ll be able to run. I just have to wait until the man is close enough to stab.

  More crunching of leaves, and then a hand on my shoulder.

  I turn as fast as my body will allow me and bring the knife up to jab into the man’s shoulder. I don’t care if he is a friend. I don’t trust anyone.

  My knife dives toward him, but his hand grasps my wrist, inches before it plunges into his chest.

  My eyes flicker to his.

  Conti.

  Fuck.

  His eyes are unreadable as he stares at me, still holding onto my wrist.

  I’m going back to Dante.

  “Please,” I whisper.

  Conti’s eyes narrow, but I don’t have a clue what that means.