Venom & Ecstasy (Venom Trilogy #2)

by S Williams

  Draco studies my attire. “You look better today, niñita.”

  “You’re lying,” I mutter. “I looked in the mirror. I look hideous.”

  He extends his arm, his mouth twitching. “Go. Sit. I’ll be right there.”

  I nod, walking to the chair next to his. Sitting, I pull my chair up to the table and pick up a slice of the bacon. I chew it, but I don’t taste a thing.

  Damn. Even my taste buds are numb.

  By the time I’ve chewed the first slow bite and forced it down, Draco has dismissed Diego and is walking to his chair. He sits down, pulls his chair in, and then picks up his water.

  “He’s watching over them?” I ask.

  “For now.”

  “Why are they still alive?” I ask, and I know he hears the agitation on my breath.

  He picks up a napkin to wipe above his lips. “They won’t be for long.”

  “Draco, you said you would get rid of them. You said you would make them pay.”

  “And I will.”

  “Putting them in those cells means they are still breathing.”

  He places his napkin down. “Are you ready to cut those breaths short then?”

  “W-what?” I stammer.

  “You heard me,” he murmurs, picking up his fork and knife and cutting into his steak and eggs. “Are you ready to end them?”

  I blink rapidly. “You are the one who’s supposed to make them pay.”

  “And I will, but not before letting you take out your aggressions first.”

  “I have none,” I state, looking away.

  “That’s bullshit, and you know it. You’re still in denial. Still trying to block it out. But when it finally sinks in—when that rage ignites you—you’ll know. I will know.”

  I watch him closely as he takes a bite of the steak. I don’t say anything, though. Because I am upset—no, I’m more than upset.

  I want them gone, yes, but I didn’t think I’d have to use my own hands to do it. I thought he’d make me watch again, like he did with Kevin. I would have been okay with that.

  “You can take your time,” he tells me. “There is no rush.” He reaches forward and tips my chin. “But when it happens, niñita, I will be there. I will make you feel like you again, only much stronger.” He drops his fork and strokes the apple of my cheek. “My beautiful niñita. Look what they’ve done to you.” His nostrils flare, and he points his gaze to my lips. “It is taking everything in me not to draw my gun, go down there, and shoot them until the shed is full of blood and bullets.”

  I drop my gaze.

  He pulls away.

  I look elsewhere. “Where’s Mrs. Molina?” I inquire, ignoring the sudden spark growing between us.

  “She didn’t want to see you today.”

  I whip my head up with a frown. “What? Why not?”

  “She heard what happened to you.” He pauses, only for a brief second. “My mother has the tendency to allow her guilt to eat her alive. She didn’t sleep all night, but I hope she’s making up for it right now.”

  His face changes. It’s softer. His eyes dart down, focused on the bowl of sliced fruit. “It’s not just you she doesn’t want to see. It’s me, too. I disappointed her.” He eats faster, trying to ignore his remorse.

  “How?”

  “I told her I wouldn’t let anything happen to you after I didn’t let you eat those three days. She made me promise, and just like that,” he snaps his fingers, “the promise was broken. She’s a little more than upset.”

  His unhappiness is clear, but not too much. He hates revealing any type of emotion. He pushes out of his chair and stands up, straightening his back.

  “Eat and be sure to go back to my room. I’ll have one of the maids send over some of the clothes and toiletries from the room you were staying in before. You won’t be going back to it anymore.”

  He starts to walk around me, but I catch his hand. My mouth opens, but then clamps shut. I don’t know what to say. What should I tell him to try and ease some of that guilt?

  “Thank you, Draco,” I finally say.

  He stares down, confused. “I don’t deserve your gratitude right now, Gianna.”

  “You’re trying,” I murmur.

  “Trying isn’t enough.”

  “What’s done is done.” I shrug one shoulder, but he yanks his hand away. “From here, we move forward.”

  “Fuck that. This is not over,” he growls, and then he stalks out of the dining room. Patanza shows up as he’s storming out, and he murmurs something to her before taking off.

  She looks at me, but her expression is unreadable. She has a rifle in hand, the black strap across her body. She has on gloves and what looks like a bulletproof vest beneath her T-shirt. It’s the most I’ve seen her wear around here.

  She watches me for a brief moment, then jerks her gaze away and steps to the side, focusing ahead.

  That’s three times in a row today.

  None of them have looked at me for longer than a few seconds.

  Was this an order from Draco? Maybe he’s onto all of them. Maybe he doesn’t trust any of his men now. I didn’t realize it before, but he has the house heavily guarded today.

  There’s a guard in the kitchen where the butlers are when I peer up. I see him standing there with his arms in front of him, guns in each holder.

  I glance at Patanza. She doesn’t look at me. Not even a peek.

  Sighing, I push out of the chair and walk to the door. I can’t stomach much more. I’m afraid I’ll throw it all up by the time I make it upstairs.

  Before I can walk out, Patanza stops me with a gentle hand to the shoulder. Her pleading eyes search my face, her lips trembling a little. “Just so you know, I never liked Pico or Bain, and would have never tolerated it if I’d heard what they were planning to do. I would have told Jefe first thing.” Her eyes shift down, lips twisting. “Jefe doesn’t trust anyone right now because of what happened. He had a talk with all of us yesterday. I don’t want him to fire me, because if he fires any of us, that means he’ll be killing us too. This place is all I have. If you could . . . well, if you could remind him of that for me, I would appreciate it. I would never betray Jefe. Not after all he has done for me.”

  I watch her carefully, how her eyes well up and her bottom lip continues to tremble, and I realize there is still a human in there. Unlike the others, she still holds onto her humanity. Her feminism. She is still a woman, not the hardcore thug they think she is. The hardcore thug she pretends to be just helps to keep her place here.

  She drops her hand and I nod. “I’ll let him know.”

  I walk past her and down the corridor. I hear her following me, but I don’t look back. I assume this is something Draco told her to do. When I’m upstairs and in the bedroom, I shut the door behind me, but I can hear Patanza outside the door. She’s clearly there to stay.

  I lie back down, looking toward the open window. I hear the gulls. I hear the ocean. I feel the heat of the sun, the warm breeze floating in.

  But what I don’t feel is myself.

  Every little noise startles me, from the maids dropping things, to Patanza uttering a small cough.

  I want to believe that Draco will never let this happen to me again, but I can’t completely trust him.

  It happened once.

  Why couldn’t it happen again?

  3

  Recovery - Day 3

  A hand runs over my cheekbone.

  I spring up, panting, meeting brown eyes surrounded by thick, black eyelashes.

  “Calm down, niñita. It’s just me.” Draco’s voice is much softer today.

  I blink up at him for several seconds and then rest my head on the pillow again.

  “You slept all day yesterday,” he says, standing up straight with his hands on his hips. “You should come down and eat.”

  “What time is it?” I croak.

  “Past eight. You know my rule.”

  “I’m not hungry, Draco. I can’t eat.�
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  “You need to eat.”

  “Well, I don’t want to.”

  I feel him staring down at me. Through the corner of my eye, I see him take a small step back. “Fine. I’ll have one of the butler’s bring a tray up for you.”

  “Draco—I said I don’t want—”

  “I don’t care what you don’t want, Gianna!” I peer up and his eyebrow is cocked, eyes as hard as stone. “I’m not going to let you rot away in here. You’ll eat the fucking food.”

  He looks me over thoroughly and then turns, his shoes clicking across the floorboards. The door is shut behind him before I know it, and I release a tattered breath, rolling back over.

  I stare up at the ceiling, and then look at the window. It’s closed now. I don’t know why that bothers me so much.

  I felt better when it was open—soothed, sleeping to ocean sounds and squawking birds. I have the urge to get up and open it, but I don’t.

  I can’t.

  I don’t want to move or do anything.

  I just want to melt away and forget everything.

  4

  Recovery – Day 4

  My mouth is dry, my throat thick, and that is the only reason I’m getting up. I see the tray on the table in the corner. I can smell it from here. My belly doesn’t even growl.

  But the water does look appealing.

  I pick up the bottle and crack it open, guzzling it down rapidly. Each chug clears the dryness away, the crisp taste allowing me to gasp after I’ve lowered the bottle.

  I hear footsteps behind the door and someone knocks.

  “Come in,” I call, turning to look at it.

  When it swings open, it’s Patanza with some clothes on hangers. “Draco told me to hang these in the closet for you.”

  I look at the clothes in her hands. None of it looks familiar. As she walks by with it, I realize they all have price tags on them. I follow her to the closet, watching as she moves some of his clothes aside and hangs them all up at once.

  “They’re new,” she says, as if she’s read my mind. “He made me go into town with Mrs. Molina. She has great taste for you.”

  When she’s finished, she walks past me and to the door. “Do you need me to tell him you’re awake?”

  “Are you keeping watch by the door?”

  She nods her head, pressing her lips.

  “Then, no. I’m okay, as long as you’re there.” I don’t know what possesses me to say that. Deep down, it’s the truth. Of all the guards, Patanza is the one I think I can rely on. Let’s hope I’m right.

  Her face changes, but barely. Her lips don’t press anymore, and her eyes aren’t as hard around the edges. She gives one quick nod before turning and walking out of the room and shutting the door behind her.

  I sit on the bench at the end of the bed, staring down at my feet. It’s been a while since my toenails had a good trim and polish.

  Looking in the bathroom, I see the square, pink box that was delivered from the other room. It’s full of everything a girl needs, including nail polish and remover.

  Making my way to the bathroom, I open the case and dig through it, pulling out bottles of blue, pink, and red polish. I study each one, debating on which to go with.

  Pink used to be my favorite, but it seems too fluffy for me now. Too sweet and innocent. Red was my father’s. He claimed red was a ruthless, dangerous color. Red made a statement, in both blood and confidence.

  Blue was Toni’s favorite.

  I look up at the mirror. I’m healing, somewhat. The right side of my face isn’t as puffy or blue as it was before. I stare for a long time, remembering just how I acquired the bruises. The stitches. The pain.

  Heavy breathing.

  Grunting.

  Panting.

  Groaning.

  Stretches of pain.

  Blood . . . everywhere.

  “You can stab me, fight me, and even have Draco beat the fuck out of me, but you knew by the end of this shit I would get what the fuck I wanted.”

  I wince, and pull my gaze away from the mirror. Fuck him.

  I will not let what he did to me take over my life. I will not let it rule me.

  Be smart. Be brave. Think about what Daddy would do.

  I’ll tell you what Daddy would do.

  He’d choose the color red.

  5

  Restoration

  I riffle through the new clothes, the glossy red on my fingernails flashing from the small, crystal-like chandelier above.

  Patanza was right. Mrs. Molina does have good taste. I pluck out a blue maxi dress. It’s lovely, with sleeves, made of a light, soft cotton.

  I take a rapid shower, blow-dry the kinks out of my hair, and then get dressed in it.

  As I’m sliding my feet into a pair of sandals, the door opens, and Draco walks in. He catches me leaning on the mattress to buckle my sandal, and his head goes into a slight tilt.

  “You’re up,” he murmurs, somewhat surprised, sliding the tips of his fingers into his pocket.

  “Yep.”

  “I wasn’t expecting you to be. Thought I was going to have to drag you out of bed today.” He walks to the left, looking me over. “How do you feel?”

  “Better.”

  He continues his stare. He’s quiet for a minute, then looks at his brown dresser against the wall. “I know you were using the pills. That’s how you were sleeping through the day without being disturbed or scared awake.”

  When he says that, I lift my head up to stare at him. “I needed them.” I say it hard enough for him to take my statement seriously.

  “You can’t take too many, Gianna. They are only for severe situations.”

  “And you don’t think that was a severe situation?” I snap, straightening my back.

  His face remains even. His expression doesn’t change. “No more pills,” he orders.

  “Fine.” I drop my foot and straighten my back. “Then give me something else to drown out the memories. Alcohol, preferably vodka.”

  “I’m not letting you drown them out. I want you to feel them. You can’t sleep on the shit that’s happened and think everything will be okay later. It will only make you feel worse. You want to forget about that shit, you make it fucking happen by doing something bigger than what caused you pain. You do whatever you can to make sure it never fucking happens again.”

  “I’m not killing them,” I tell him. “I’m not. It’s not who I am. I don’t kill people.”

  He doesn’t respond. Instead he turns and walks through the door again. In the hallway, he turns to look at me.

  “Breakfast,” is all he says and then strides off.

  I can feel him watching me as I devour my meal. I eat it properly, but I’m hardly taking breaths between bites. I’m so hungry today. Considering I didn’t eat the food he brought up to the room the past two days, I shouldn’t be so surprised.

  Mrs. Molina is here, and she hasn’t said a word since I’ve shown up. Her eyes scream it all, though. She wants to apologize a thousand times for what’s happened, even though it wasn’t even her fault.

  Patanza stands at the door, along with another guard. He’s bulky, but not so bulky that it’s intimidating. They both have their eyes on the wall across from them, jaws fixed, stances straight.

  After finishing off my pineapple juice, I sit back in my chair, allowing my meal to settle.

  “You were hungry,” Draco notes.

  “Yeah,” I respond.

  “Glad to see you eating.” Draco looks at his mother. “Mamá you’ve barely touched your food.”

  “I don’t have much of an appetite, son,” she says in Spanish, avoiding his eyes.

  He notices and focuses on his plate, pretending he’s not bothered by it, but I know he is. “Gianna, I want to show you something. Are you up for it?”

  I sit up a bit. “Show me what?”

  “Come.” He pushes out of his throne-like chair and walks past mine to get to the door. He stops right before walking
out and looks back at me, tilting an eyebrow.

  I push out of my chair as well, meeting up to him. When I’m right beside him, he turns right and walks down the corridor that leads to his galería.

  Ugh. Not this again. I’m not up for manipulative sex today.

  Would he even dare, after knowing what happened to me? I shouldn’t be so shocked if he does. I can’t forget that he’s still a heartless, cruel bastard, just like the rest of them.

  We make it down the staircase and to the door. He unlocks it and walks in. I follow after him, and when he steps to the right, I do the same.

  “I remember this when I used to visit the U.S.” His voice is mellow. I have no idea what he’s talking about, and frankly, I don’t care right now.

  He walks forward and up the stairs. I hear rustling and things moving, but then it stops.

  And then I hear a violin start to play.

  The song is so damn raw, bittersweet and familiar, that I freeze exactly where I stand. I look toward the sound, eyes stretched wide, mouth halfway open.

  Draco comes to the top of the stairs with the violin in his large hands, his chin resting on the chinrest and the body extending out.

  His head is at an angle, and he is focused on the instrument, strumming slowly during some notes, quickening at others.

  Tears creep to my eyes—unwanted, annoying tears.

  That was . . . Mom’s lullaby.

  Her song.

  She hummed it to me when I was a little girl and even as I got older.

  She played it for me and even tried to teach me, but I wasn’t as gifted as her. I’m still not, but Draco?

  He hits every chord and note to near perfection. He plays so well that I feel like Mom is here, playing for me. I feel her spirit dwelling, and her angelic arms wrapping around me, silently telling me things will be okay again.

  I feel her—like she’s standing right beside me.

  When he stops, the silence is deafening. Her warm arms are gone.

  I hear my pounding pulse.

  I feel hotness rolling down my cheeks.