Dirty Revenge

by Ella Miles

  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.

  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.”

  Her eyes widen, and her mouth falls open. And all I can think about is what it would feel like to shove my cock into her glorious mouth. Her long pink tongue massaging me, bringing me to the brink.

  “Caspian?”

  She must have said something.

  “Yes?”

  She shakes her head. “I thanked you for saving me, or whatever it was when you took me from Dante. But that doesn’t make you a saint.”

  “I never said it did.”

  “Then let me go. You have no use for me. You are a good-looking man. I’m sure you can get plenty of women. You have enough money you can pay a nice woman to live out your fan
tasies. You don’t need me. Call my brothers. Tell them I’m safe and for them to rescue me. You don’t need the hassle. If Dante finds out you have me, your business will be ruined, and you will probably end up dead.”

  I don’t disagree with her. She’s right. But again I think too much with my cock, and all I can think about is she called me good-looking. I think back to the day we first met. The look of lust in her eyes I thought I imagined. Was that real?

  “No.”

  It’s a simple word that answers her unspoken question.

  She doesn’t react to my word. She knew it would be my answer. It’s why she never asked the question. It’s why she tried to sneak out in the middle of the night.

  “I can promise you this, Gia. I won’t touch you. I won’t hurt you. Nothing. For one month.

  “For one month you can move about this house as if you aren’t enslaved. For one month you can have as much freedom as you like within these four walls. Come and go in any room as you please. Ask Michi to make you any food you want. Ask me to do anything within reason for you in this house. Heal. Stop trying to sneak out.

  “Then, after the month is up, you are free to try and run as much as you want. But when the month is up, attempting to run will be as useless as it is now. Your body can’t handle running now, but even if you were healed, I have the best security system installed in my house. Better than ones I install in any of my clients’ homes. You will never escape without my permission.”

  “Why?”

  I shake my head. I just told her she was safe for an entire month, and she asks me why. She’s too curious for her own good. She should accept my offer and work for the next month to figure out my weaknesses, instead of using all her strength to stand in this dark hallway and talk to me.

  “Does it matter?”

  “Yes,” she says without hesitation.

  “I don’t play with broken toys, even partially broken.”

  She narrows her eyes into thin slits. Her eyes are the only thing I can see in the dark of the night, and now they are barely visible.

  “I’m entirely broken.”

  “No!” My voice is louder than I wanted when I opened my mouth, and her body jumps. I slow and calm my voice. “You are not broken. Just injured. You can heal.”

  She shivers under my gaze. “When the month is up, will you hurt me?”

  Yes. No. I don’t know. I can’t tell her any of those things. I don’t even know what I want myself. But the answer is most likely yes.

  “I have a track record of hurting women. I’ve never failed.”

  “Neither has Dante. Dante always ends the lives of the women he captures within a month. He failed.”

  She’s hoping I’ll admit I, too, will fail. But hurting her isn’t my mission, unlike Dante. I will wound her whether I want to or not. Her being in my life will mean she will end up fatally injured, forever.

  “Dante never played with your heart.”

  She gasps. I got the reaction I wanted, now time to close.

  “He fought to get it, but he never had it. You can’t take a heart by force. It has to be given, willingly. I don’t just want your body Gia. I want all of you. Your heart most of all. And I’m the type of man who won’t give up until I have it.”

  “And if you claimed my heart?”

  “I would never give it back. I don’t think you’ve ever lived without your heart. It’s like living in the dark shadows, never being able to step into the light. It’s not a particularly enjoyable way to live.”

  She silently nods like she understands. She doesn’t. I’ve seen women lose their minds by the time I’m done with them. They leave me more broken than the woman leaving Dante’s side. Death is the only answer for someone who has lost the will to live.

  “Hold onto your heart, Gia. Don’t give it to me. And don’t let me steal it. If you want to live after you leave here, then keep yourself guarded. And when the month is up, find a way to escape.”

  8

  Gia

  A month is a long time, but at the same time, not long enough. Especially when I’ve spent most of my month in bed. I’ve never slept so much in all of my life.

  When my body hits the bed, I’m out. It doesn’t matter what plans I had before. Once I’m in Caspian’s bed, I’m out.

  When I leave, I’m stealing this bed. Caspian doesn’t spend much of his money on anything in his house, but he didn’t scrimp on this bed. It has the thickest mattress, the silkiest sheets, and the fluffiest pillow I’ve ever laid on. It makes it impossible to get out of bed. Even more impossible when my body feels like it’s gotten repeatedly hit by a truck.

  Caspian spent most of his time away since he gave me his proclamation weeks ago. Most likely because he has a fancy house elsewhere, he enjoys staying at. But even this tiny cabin is beginning to grow on me. I might even fall in love with the simplicity of it, if it wasn’t just another form of a prison.

  The forest surrounds the cabin on one side, with a small vineyard on the other. Nothing to hear but birds chirping for miles when I sit out on the small deck overlooking the forest and vineyard. But I can understand, if he has a larger, more extravagant house, why he spends most of his time there instead of here.

  I don’t know what to think about Caspian. We spent a lot of time together the first day when he rescued me, but we haven’t spent any time together since. Michi takes care of my every need. He brings me food. It started out simple, just a broth or soup, but now he feeds me more extravagant meals like pasta and meats, both have put some much-needed fat on my bones.

  Michi brings me clothes. The small closet now contains almost half as many clothes for me as it does for Caspian.

  And he brings me pain medications when I can’t take the pain in my legs any longer.

  Most of the bruising and swelling is gone. If I wear pants and long sleeves, no one would realize what I have been through. And my leg has healed, mostly. I can walk, but I have a limp. Michi brought me a cane, and that makes walking more comfortable. But I don’t want to be using a cane the rest of my life.

  It’s only been a few weeks, I tell myself. My leg will continue to heal. Even without a doctor.

  My month is almost up, and I have no idea what awaits me when my time is up. More importantly, I don’t know how to escape. I’ve tried not to obsess about escaping as I did with Dante. It made it so much harder when I realized I would never escape on my own.

  I haven’t found a phone or a computer. I have no way to contact Matteo or Arlo, but surely they are looking for me by now. They have limitless resources. They will find me. I just need to give them more time. And in the meantime, pretend I’m in a quiet spa. That’s all this is. A peaceful, secluded spa where I heal, uninterrupted.

  I hear a door shut, and I quiver. I can never get used to the loud unexpected sounds. Michi is good about trying to be quiet. I don’t know how he lives here by himself in the silence. It’s nice for a while, but I’m not sure I could live here indefinitely.

  I hold my breath and pull the covers up tighter against my chest. I’m wearing yoga pants and a tank top, but I need more protection against whatever is lurking in the hallway.

  Caspian is here. He’s only come home a handful of times since I’ve been here. And he’s usually pissed. He yells and stomps like he needs a break from the world and uses this place as his escape.

  As long as he doesn’t use me as an escape.

  He treads heavily through the house, not hiding his anger, while I can barely breathe. All I can do is focus on his footsteps and hope they stay away from this bedroom.

  They grow closer, and my heart is in my throat. Caspian may have been nothing but sweet to me when he stole me, but that doesn’t mean he will continue to be kind to me. He belongs in Dante’s fucked up world. I know what that means. I know what he meant when he said he would break me when Dante didn’t.

  Caspian is better looking than Dante. Caspian has a charm Dante doesn’t. Caspian has a sadness I can connect with. Caspi
an will still rape me, but when he does, I will make excuses for him. I will want him because sex with him will be better than Dante. I’ll fall for him in the same way Beauty fell in love with the Beast. But unlike the Beast, Caspian won’t turn into a prince.

  Caspian’s footsteps get louder, until I know he is pacing outside my door, trying to decide if he will keep his promise to me or not. He’s pissed and probably wants a release. He promised he wouldn’t touch me for another week, but his reserve seems to be slipping. Whatever happened today has pushed him over the edge.

  It wouldn’t matter if he broke his promise. I don’t get anything if he breaks. I just lose my ability to trust him. Not that I believe him anyway.

  I can’t do anything but wait and grip the sheets to my chest like holding on and sinking heavy into this bed will save me.

  I wait for him to burst through the door and beat me.

  He doesn’t.

  I wait for him to rip off my clothes.

  He doesn’t.

  I wait for him to thrust his cock into my unwilling cunt.

  He doesn’t.

  Nothing happens. I don’t know why he made the promise not to touch me for a month. Maybe he was testing his ability to control his urges. Or maybe, he’s breaking down my walls so it will be easier to hurt me when he finally does touch me.

  Either way, it doesn’t matter. He won’t touch me. I know that now. Even though he’s still pacing, his steps have slowed. He’s calmed down. He won’t break his promise.

  Slowly the door opens, and Caspian enters.

  His shirt sleeves are rolled up haphazardly. His blue tie hangs loosely around his neck, and the first few buttons of his once crisp white shirt are undone. There is a hint of red on his shirt, not enough to be blood. Or is it?

  I continue my scrutinization of his body. His pants are slightly wrinkled from wearing them too long. And his body hunches slightly, like he doesn’t even have the strength to stand upright anymore.