Dirty

by Ella Miles

  “We would love some food. Something light, please Michi.”

  Gia looks from me to Michi curiously. I expect her to open her mouth, but she doesn’t.

  “Yes, sir. I’ll make some soup and grilled cheese.”

  “Thank you.”

  Michi heads to the kitchen.

  “Wow, I’m surprised you can fit a third person into this shack,” Gia says, with a hint of teasing in her voice. I don’t know what it is that allows her to feel comfortable teasing me, but I like it.

  “Watch it, or you’ll be sleeping outside.”

  I carry her to my bedroom. The house is small, with only two bedrooms; one for me and one for Michi. The living room couch folds out into a bed when my sister stays over. But that isn’t often anymore. I didn’t think about it much when I was planning on taking Gia, just that I wanted her here.

  I’ll figure out the rest later. I place her on my bed before I realize my mistake. My cock comes to life straining hard in my pants at the sight of her on my bed.

  The T-shirt she is wearing doesn’t hide her glorious tits. Her nipples are hard against the thin material. And the boxers she is wearing cling to her far too skinny legs. Legs that were not this skinny before, but after a month of hardly eating, I’m sure she has lost a lot of weight.

  I frown. I need the clothes off of her, but I don’t want this to be a fight. She’s exhausted, and my temper is tired of being tested. I’m not used to anyone disobeying my commands. She will learn to follow my demands, but it will take time.

  Today, I want her clean, in new clothes, and fed. Then I will busy myself in work or spend my night jerking off while I try to be patient and not claim her pussy tonight.

  I leave her on my bed, knowing full well she will try to get up and make a run for it. My bathroom is good sized. Not huge, but it has a large clawfoot tub I never use. Now I’m glad I never got rid of it to make more space in the bathroom.

  I turn on the faucet in the tub and stick my hand under the water until it is warm, but not hot. I don’t think her skin can handle hot. I take my time returning to the bedroom. I lean against the door frame watching her as it takes everything in her to scoot herself to the edge of the bed.

  “What is your plan once you are standing?”

  Her body jumps at the sound of my voice. She looks up with a frown.

  I smile. “What’s your plan? I know you don’t have a weapon. You haven’t figured out where I keep my guns yet. You can barely walk. If you run, I’d get you back in five minutes. What’s your plan?”

  “Dante didn’t find me in five minutes when I ran.”

  I nod. “True, but then you weren’t the one that planned your escape. I did.”

  Her frown deepens, and the determination in her eyes grows stronger. “You did not plan my escape, I did.”

  I smirk. “I had my team call, Dante, to distract him so you could escape. I made sure no one was in that building or parking lot. I made sure he didn’t find you.”

  “I escaped on my own.”

  “Fine. You made it down an elevator, through a parking lot, and into the woods. If it weren’t for me, you would have died in those woods or Dante would’ve found you.”

  She folds her arms across her chest, hiding her view of her breasts from me.

  My lips thin, but I don’t frown. I don’t want her to see my disappointment at her hiding her body from me.

  “What’s your plan? You aren’t escaping. You aren’t strong enough. So I would recommend you let me help you clean up, you eat some food, and you rest. And then, when you’ve healed, you can try an escape again. Okay, sweetheart?”

  Her jaw twitches when I say ‘sweetheart.’ She clearly doesn’t like nicknames. But she doesn’t say anything.

  “I’m going to remove your clothes and help you into the tub so we can clean the filth off you.”

  I walk to her not giving her a choice in the matter as I grab the hem of her T-shirt. She keeps her arms crossed and I give her a stern look.

  “Do you want to waste energy fighting me on this? You want to be clean. And I can’t leave you alone in the bathtub. You’d drown. So let me help you.”

  Slowly, she lifts her arms and lets me remove her shirt. She doesn’t shudder or hide when my eyes rake over her body. She’s used to being naked in front of men.

  My cock grows, but it stills every time a new bruise or injury is revealed. I don’t think there is one area of her skin that hasn’t been touched by that monster.

  I kneel down in front of her as I grab the waistband of his boxers. She lifts her hips the tiniest bit as I pull them off her. My eyes go to her beautiful cunt. Needing to see it. It’s glorious. But then my eyes see the large bruise on the inside of her thigh. I see the red cuts around her ankles and wrists where she’s been tied up too tightly. I see the way her knee bends at an awkward angle, clearly not set correctly.

  Fuck.

  Her body is more damaged than I ever imagined possible. I don’t know how her body hasn’t already shut down from the pain.

  I hoped to see the naked body of the beautiful woman who fell into my lap and begged for my help. Now that body is so scarred, there are only remnants left. She needs to heal.

  My cock stiffens at the sight of her nipples hardening in the brisk air.

  Damn, cock.

  I can’t fuck her. Not here. Not now. I’m better than this.

  Our gazes meet, exchanging too many feelings. I hate feelings. I don’t do feelings. Not anymore. I’ve spent the last few years shut off from the world. The only emotion I ever felt was anger and revenge.

  Now, looking at Gia as I stand over her, she stirs a feeling I haven’t felt in years. I can’t quite place it. I don’t know what the feeling is called. I hate it. I want it to go away. But I need to wash away any sign of Dante from her body. Or at least, what I can wash away. I know I can’t remove the bruises or scars. Or the mental images from her mind.

  I see the same emotion in Gia’s eyes. Revenge is what she runs on. It’s what has kept her alive, but there is something different now.

  “Thank you,” she says quietly.

  I still. She shouldn’t thank me. Not until she understands what I require of her. Not until she knows who I am. But I recognize it as the feeling in her eyes. She’s thankful. Her eyes say she’s scared to say the words, but she says them because it releases her from any guilt over what comes next.

  I feel the reflection of emotion in myself. I’m grateful I have her. That I could save her, whatever that means.

  I will accept that I did save her. Dante was set on killing her. Doing everything he could to get to that point and push her over the edge to darkness until her body stopped working, her mind shut down, and she vanished into nothing. If I hadn’t saved her, I’m not sure she would have survived another week. Definitely not another month.

  “You’re welcome,” I say, finally admitting what I’ve done.

  Gia moves to get off the bed but then stops herself. She looks up at me with her dopey sad eyes. Her eyes say sad, but her long curling eyelashes say beautiful. I could get lost in the length of her lashes.

  She exhales deeply, but it comes out more of a huff of frustration.

  “Caspian, will you please help me to the bath?”

  I catch my breath in my throat. Of all the things I expected her to say, I never expected her to ask for my help. I don’t know what I did to earn her trust, but at this moment, she’s giving it to me.

  I don’t say a word. I put one hand under her frail legs and the other under her arms. I lift her, feeling every bone in her body pressing into my chest as I carry her.

  I’ve fantasized about carrying her naked since I first saw her. But this is the opposite of what I wanted. This is me taking care of her. This will hurt her worse than any physical thing I could do for her. She can’t feel anything when it comes to me. She can’t like me, or be grateful for me, or love me.

  I place her into the warm water of the bath, carefully lowering
her as her hands grasp onto the side of the tub to keep herself upright. I turn the faucet off as the water covers her breasts.

  I kneel next to the tub. I can’t leave her alone because she could drown, I tell myself. No matter how weak Gia’s body is now, she would never let herself drown. She’s too strong for that. Her spirit won’t allow it.

  Gia closes her eyes and lays her head against the back of the tub, letting the warm water go to work on her body and soul. The water immediately turns a light brown color as the caked on dirt washes off her skin.

  I hold out a bar of soap and wait until she opens her eyes to take it from my hand. She begins moving the bar over her arms and chest, shakily rubbing her skin with the soap. She winces with every tiny movement, either from the energy it takes to move her arm or the pain the bar of soap causes as it moves over her skin.

  I can’t keep watching.

  My hand reaches out to grab the soap from her, gripping her hand over the soap resting against her chest.

  Her eyes meet mine, and I think she’s going to fight me. Tell me she can wash herself. But she slowly relinquishes the bar of soap to me.

  My teeth clench together, and my cock is hard as a rock as I move the soap over her chest to wash off the dirt. She watches me a moment. Staring into my eyes like she will find the greatest treasure if she keeps looking. Luckily, my waist is hidden from her view by the side of the tub. She can’t see how hard I am for her and how desperate I am to become Dante. To rip her from the tub and fuck her. If Dante hadn’t already hurt her so much, I would probably be doing just that.

  Slowly, Gia closes her eyes and rests her head back while I move as slowly as I can to wash her. Applying just enough pressure to clean away the dirt, while careful not to press too hard and cause her more pain.

  Every once in a while she bites her lip, winces, or lets out a low moan when I press too hard. But for the most part, I feel like I’m in more pain than she is.

  “I need you to sit up so I can wash your back.”

  She opens her eyes slowly, as if even doing something that simple hurts. I’ve never been in that much physical pain before, so it’s hard for me to understand. I do understand emotional distress, however.

  She grabs onto the side of the tub again and starts pulling while I put my hand on the smoothness of her back and push her into a sitting position. Her entire body trembles as I wash her back. I move quickly so she can relax again.

  I put the soap away and grab the nearby bottle of shampoo. It’s not a feminine scent. It’s the kind I use. Fresh and manly. She will smell like me if I use it, and I can’t resist.

  She notices the shampoo and dunks her head under the water to soak her long tresses. I squeeze a couple of drops of the shampoo into my hand and then massage it into her hair, hoping it will work on the tangles as well as the dirt.

  Gia moans loudly.

  “Am I hurting you?” I ask, stopping, afraid she has an injury covered by her hair.

  She smiles up at me sweetly. “No, sorry. You massaging my head like that feels incredible.”

  My jaw falls open a little when I massage the shampoo into her head again, and the same sound escapes her lips. It sounds like I’m doing much more to her body than just shampooing her hair. It sounds like I’m rubbing an area much further south. I can only imagine the sounds she makes when she comes.

  I sigh. I need to wait days, weeks, months until I try to hear those types of sounds from her. And even then, I don’t think she will find sex with me enjoyable enough to gasp and moan at my touch. She will probably fight me off, instead.

  I finish shampooing and help her dunk her hair back, rinsing the suds from her hair.

  She runs her hands through her hair, working to untangle the strands.

  “Give it time,” I say when I see the disappointment at her hair not untangling.

  She nods.

  We both need to give ourselves time.

  I grab a towel from the cabinet while we wait for the water to drain out of the tub. When the tub is empty of water, I wrap the towel around her and carry her back to my bed. I sit her on the edge of the bed and help her dry her body and hair before I head to my drawers and pull out one of my T-shirts and boxer shorts. It feels strange to be giving her the same thing to wear Dante gave her.

  But when I hold out the clothes for her, she takes them with a warm smile.

  I help her put the clothes on and climb into the bed.

  Her eyes fall closed the second her head hits the pillow.

  “I’ll have Michi bring you food soon.”

  “Mmm.”

  I crack a tiny grin. I don’t know why you are in my life, Gia Carini, but you have turned all my plans upside down. I’m not even sure what I want with you, beautiful. My cock knows what he wants. But what do I want? Why did I take you? Why did I save you? And what happens next?

  I sit in my favorite chair in the living room with a scotch in my hand. It’s late. Almost three in the morning, but I prefer the night. I like the darkness. It hides my emotions well. No one can discover any of my secrets if they are buried beneath the dark blanket of night.

  I stare at my bedroom door I closed hours ago. Gia slept for two hours before I woke her to eat the soup and grilled cheese sandwich Michi cooked. She’s been asleep since after she finished her dinner. I considered sleeping in the bed next to her, but I stopped myself. I didn’t care if she was comfortable or not, but I knew if I slept in the same bed with her I wouldn’t be able to control myself. Fucking her will be so much better when she’s healed.

  Instead, I sit in my chair drinking my scotch. It’s not an expensive brand. I don’t drink it for the taste. I drink it because it dulls my emotions. So why bother buying an expensive bottle?

  I have a theory about Gia Carini. I think I know her better than she realizes. I’ve barely spent any time with her, but I know enough. My job is about reading people, and I can read her like an open book. The signs are all there. I don’t have to read the file I had Adela do on her to know who Gia Carini is. She may have thanked me for helping her escape this evening, but that was then. I don’t expect any more thank yous. From now on, the real Gia will come out. The one that will do whatever it takes to save herself.

  I don’t have a TV, and even if I did, I wouldn’t turn it on to help the minutes pass. I don’t open a book or play music either. All that I have to pass the time with is my scotch and the ticking of the clock in my living room. It’s enough. Just thinking about Gia is enough.

  I hear the familiar crick of the door.

  I don’t react. I don’t smile or frown. I don’t gasp or growl. This was what I was expecting.

  The door cracks open further until I can see the shadow of Gia standing in the doorway holding onto the doorway like it’s a lifeline.

  Anger and annoyance roll through me. Gia may be brave, but she’s also stubborn and relentless, both will eventually get her killed.

  I nurse my drink while I watch Gia in the darkness gather her strength. She holds onto the wall as she takes careful steps, trying to quiet her feet on my old battered floors. It’s an impossible task for the talent of a ballerina floating across the floor, let alone someone who is injured. Gia can’t control her legs. She’s off balance, and every step sounds like an elephant tromping through my house.

  She falls. I hear the thunderous sound vibrate through the entire house, her body hitting the ground.

  I wince and curse under my breath. My instinct is to run to her and help her up. I’m desperate to help her.

  That’s what I’m doing, I remind myself. By staying, I’m helping her.

  So I wait and force more of the cheap scotch down my throat. She gets back to her feet, but it takes time. I’ve already finished my drink, poured myself a second, and finished all but a drop of that before she manages to stand again.

  I close my eyes. I feel her heavy breathing. I hear her bones aching with each movement. My floor bends and cracks with each shift of her weight.

&nb
sp; I grip the armrests, trying to restrain myself. Stay. Wait.

  I glance up at the clock above my fireplace mantel. It’s after four in the morning. She’s been at this almost an hour now. Enough.

  I spring off of my chair and walk silently into the hallway.

  “Fifty-five minutes and thirty-four seconds, that must be a world record for the slowest attempt at escaping my house,” I snarl. I can’t keep my anger and frustration out of my voice, though I know it will provoke her temper.

  Gia glares at me, her anger reaching the deepest parts of her frown.

  “If you’ve been listening to me this entire time, you could have at least helped me back to bed or told me there was no point.”

  I laugh in a twisted way. “Would you have listened or would you have just postponed your attempt until tomorrow?”

  She crosses her arms across her chest as her mouth prepares to tell me off, but the movement knocks her off balance.

  I grab her before she falls again. I sigh. “Stop trying to escape. Stop trying to save yourself. It won’t work. You’re too weak.”

  She chuckles in defeat. “Would you stop fighting? How can I stop when it’s all I have? I have my freedom, my honor, my name. That’s all I am. I’m Gia Carini. Wealthy, powerful, and beautiful. If I lose it, then what?

  “I have nothing left. I have to fight. I can’t spend tonight giving into you when tomorrow you could be beating me half to death. If that happens, I need to know I did everything I could to try and escape tonight. Understand?”

  “More than you know.”

  “So don’t lecture me about trying to escape.”

  I shake my head. “You need to stop trying to escape. No matter what happens next, you are still Gia Carini, the most powerful, intelligent, beautiful woman in all of Italy. Nothing I do will change that. But you have to stop trying to escape. You’ll never heal.”

  “Why would I want to heal when you will just break me again? I see it in your eyes. I know you are just as bad as Dante, even if you can control yourself better than him. Why wait for you to lose control?”

  “Because like you said, I can control my monster. I won’t hurt you. For one month.”