Venom & Ecstasy (Venom Trilogy #2)

by S Williams

  I drop my head again, bringing the water up, clearing my face, squeezing my eyes tighter. I look up again and this time I only see myself, face paler, eyes even bigger.

  “Calm down,” I tell myself, shutting off the water and walking to bedroom. But telling myself to be calm is stupid.

  Even more so when I’m finally dressed and hear Draco start to shout about fifteen minutes later.

  Something crashes. It sounds like glass.

  Then I hear stomping. Closer and closer.

  Boom! Boom! Boom!

  The door is kicked open and there he stands, teeth clenched, fists balled, seething like a raging bull. He’s blind with fury, ready to charge. Ready to destroy.

  He pulls out a gun from his waistband and points it right at me, nostrils flaring as he charges forward.

  I stare at the barrel of the spotless silver gun, but I’m speechless. I can’t explain, as badly as I want to—as much as I need to save my own ass, I can’t. My tongue feels like it weighs a thousand pounds.

  He knows. I know he knows. I did this. I let Henry go. I . . . betrayed him.

  The gun presses down on the center of my forehead, cold and hard, and through gritted teeth, he shouts, “WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?”

  18

  “Draco—I—”

  “No!” he barks, finger wrapped around the trigger. “Shut the fuck up! You know what fuck you did, and I should kill you right where you fucking stand for it!”

  “I was trying to help him!” I shout back.

  His head shakes roughly, but the gun doesn’t waver.

  I hold my hands up, thinking that I must have been wrong about this. Us. Maybe he will kill me—if I do something stupid enough, like this. Doesn’t matter who my father is. I didn’t follow his rules.

  “Draco, Henry isn’t your enemy. I believe what he says,” I say quickly. “Daddy hired him and trusted him to watch you. You say Daddy saved your life, treated you like his own son. Why would he send someone he couldn’t trust to come and look after you? Henry was only doing his job and was at the wrong place with the wrong people. I’ve been around Toni,” I breathe, “but that doesn’t make me anything like him.”

  “I don’t give a fuck about any of that,” he growls through gritted teeth, grip tightening on the gun. “You let him go without my permission. You went behind my fucking back and freed him and now he’s out there somewhere. He saw too much around here! Knew too fucking much! He knows you are here!” he spews at me. “Have you forgotten there is a warrant on my head? Three million fucking dollars, Gianna, and all he has to do is lead the police back here to me! To my fucking home!”

  My heart sinks.

  Shit.

  That’s right.

  He’s wanted by many.

  “B-but he won’t tell,” I assure him, hands still in the air. “He only wanted to be free. He knows how you are. He’ll run far away and won’t look back.”

  “He has no fucking money. Nowhere to fucking go,” he grumbles. “He could quite possibly be working with Hernandez. He has a secret, and I was close to fucking cracking him, but you decide to be stupid by letting him go! I let you do this shit right under my fucking nose,” he scoffs. “And for that, you will fucking pay.”

  “How do you even know it was me?” I ask, feeling foolish for even bothering to ask.

  “Guillermo had eyes on Thiago the entire night. He watched him and followed him up to bed. Thiago sleeps with the door open just so my men can keep watch. I watched him all night at the party. The only time that armless fuck could have escaped was during the party, when we were all occupied, and you asked for your fucking space. I should have known better than to think I could give you that.”

  I swallow, but it’s hard to do. My throat is so dry.

  He takes another step forward, gripping the back of my neck. The gun pushes down harder on my forehead, enough to leave an imprint behind. His forefinger tightens around the trigger.

  “Draco, please,” I beg. He’s so close to pulling it. “I didn’t do this to betray you! I promised I would help him!”

  “I don’t give a fuck about your promises, Gianna. They’re fucking worthless.”

  “But what if you’re wrong about him? What if he really only wanted to be free? Free from you and this place! It’s what I wanted before, too, and I wouldn’t have told. I would have just run and never looked back.”

  “I’m not wrong. I know a fucking con artist and liar when I see one. But that’s the thing about you—you’re so blind to all of it. Hell, you fell for the man who murdered your own father. Of course you’ll fall for the next man’s bullshit, too. Especially one related to him.”

  He squeezes my neck until it hurts. I wince and cry out a little, but my eyes don’t move from the trigger. He continues squeezing down. More. More. More.

  “Draco!” I plead. “You said you wouldn’t kill me.”

  He fastens his jaw and squeezes the trigger all the way down. I flinch, expecting a loud noise and some bright light to follow, but there’s nothing. Only a solid, hard click.

  He pulled the trigger, but the safety is on.

  The safety . . .

  Jerking away, he shoves me down on the edge of the bed and steps forward. “You feel that? I know you do, because I can see it so fucking clearly. Fear. That fear in your eyes still brings me joy,” he rasps, towering over me. “I said I wouldn’t kill you—that I can’t kill you—because I respected your father too much. I won’t. But it doesn’t mean that I can’t hurt you.” He grabs my hair and tugs on it, getting in my face, making me whimper. “I am going to hurt you so fucking much you’ll hate me again, Gianna. I’m going to teach you that fucking me over and going behind my fucking back gets you nowhere! I tried with you, I really did.” He pulls away, holding the gun up in the air. “But don’t think you’re safe with me by any means. No,” he laughs, a sinister one I haven’t heard since I was first brought here. “I’ll be back, and you better be fucking ready, because I am done being fucking lenient with you. By the end of the night, you will worship, obey, and submit to me. You will be mine all over again. No more fucking freedom for you.”

  And with those words, he’s walking out of the room, storming down the hallway.

  Though he’s gone, the atmosphere is still thick with tension. Sweat has beaded up on my forehead, my palms clammy. I look down, realizing my hands are shaking, my breath is erratic, and my legs are wobbling like mad.

  I am terrified all over again.

  Of him. Of what he’ll do to me.

  And . . . deep down . . . I’m glad to feel this way.

  Glad, because I can’t like him. I don’t want to like him. I don’t want his charm to win me over. I don’t want him to ever trust me, because I don’t ever want to trust him. I can’t trust a man like him.

  I need to hate him again. I need the fight. I needed a reason to kindle my fire inside, and he’s going to hand it right to me.

  El Jefe vs. La Patrona.

  I guess the question now is, who will win?

  19

  Anxiety has swarmed me. Though I’m on edge, I go downstairs for breakfast, on time and dressed accordingly. The dining room is back to its original setting, clear of everything, including plates and silverware, which is strange.

  I walk to my seat and sit, waiting to hear Draco come strolling in at any given second. There is less than one minute left until 8:00. I pull my chair in, and as I wait, I hear footsteps coming.

  I look to the right, toward the doors. But it’s not Draco I see. It’s Thiago. He strolls right into the dining room, with a white T-shirt and dark-blue jeans. His dark, beady eyes sparkle from the sunlight filtering in through the window, and of course they are focused on me.

  I watch him come closer and closer, finally taking the seat right beside me. Swallowing thickly, I cross my legs and shift to the left, as if it will get me further away from him.

  It doesn’t. I still smell him. I feel him there, staring like some deranged anim
al.

  “Stop looking at me,” I snap without meeting his eyes.

  His laugh is throaty and slightly obnoxious.

  “He’ll kill you if he sees you sitting beside me,” I mutter beneath my breath.

  “Not if he kills you first.” When he says that, I pick up my head, meeting the dark orbs for eyes. “I heard what you did. He came looking for me. Fortunately, I had an alibi. I really had no clue there was even a guy without arms staying here.” He laughs again. “Why’d you do it? What did you get out of it?”

  I pull my gaze away, refusing to answer.

  “You’re smart but stupid,” he mutters. “Women.” Seconds later and Draco comes into the dining room, steps still heavy, shoulders tense. None of the guards are around. I’ve noticed they’re all pretty much gone, probably out looking for Henry.

  “You eat and then you get the fuck out of my sight,” he growls as he takes his throne-like chair. For a second, I’m not sure if he’s talking to Thiago or me.

  But when Thiago laughs and relaxes in his chair, I realize his statement was directed at me. The butlers stroll in with carts, placing dishes down in front of him and Thiago. Their plates are covered with fried potatoes, scrambled eggs, and Argentinian sausage. But the plate in front of me is . . . not what I’m expecting.

  It’s a sandwich. Peanut butter and strawberry jelly, to be exact.

  Thiago takes sight of it and laughs so fucking hard I feel it twisting my core.

  I peer up at Draco, who slides his gaze from Thiago to me. He grabs the handle of his coffee mug, bringing the rim up to his lips.

  “What the hell is this?” I hiss, shoving the plate away.

  “Eat,” he commands when he places the coffee mug down.

  “No.” I twist in my chair when the butler that just poured Thiago’s coffee walks behind me. I grab his elbow and say in Spanish, “Bring me what they’re having.”

  The butler looks from me to Draco, who cocks a stern brow, giving a simple threat with his eyes alone.

  Nervously swallowing the lump in his throat, he gently pulls his elbow away and speeds to the kitchen. When a minute passes by, I realize he isn’t coming back.

  “Eat,” Draco demands again. “Better this than nothing, right?”

  I clench my jaw tight, focusing on his eyes.

  “You will eat lightly today,” he declares when he picks up a piece of sausage.

  “Why?”

  His upper lip quirks, just barely, but he says nothing. Just bites into the sausage, holding my stare until I pull away.

  “Shit. It’s fucking intense in here,” Thiago says through a mouth full of food. “Gia, want some?” he offers, sliding his plate over as if he really will give me some.

  I blink at him, the way he mocks me with that sneer.

  “Stop fucking around, Thiago. We have shit to do soon,” Draco grumbles in Spanish.

  I push out of my chair. “I’ll be in the room.”

  “Your room,” he says when I push the chair back in. Then he picks up the plate with the sandwich. “With your sandwich.” He holds it out, a silent demand that I take it with me. His eyes are hard and threatening, jaw flexing.

  Enraged, I snatch the sandwich off the plate, pull the pieces of bread apart, and smash the slices face down on the table, smearing the jelly and peanut butter all over the wood.

  “Fuck you and your fucking sandwich, Draco.”

  I leave before he can retaliate. When I make it up the staircase, I’m truly surprised he hasn’t come hunting me down. I rush down the hallway and into the room I’d stayed in before.

  The room for prisoners.

  As I storm inside and look to my right, that’s when I spot the flowers on the dresser. These aren’t the chocolate cosmos I’ve grown accustomed to.

  No.

  These flowers are a bright, stark blue, bold and resilient. The sun dances on the large dew-dropped petals, highlighting the white streaks between each crease as well as the black dots collected in the middle.

  I stare at them longer than intended.

  I’ve never seen anything like them before.

  I step forward, noticing a note folded beneath the vase. Moving it aside, I pick up the letter and read the words. His words. His handwriting.

  Blue Betrayals.

  Know why they’re called that?

  Because beneath all that beauty, there are thorns—large, sharp, vicious thorns. Some of them you can’t see because they are just as blue, blending in with the soft petals, which is why you have to be careful when picking them. If you aren’t cautious, they’ll stab you right where it fucking hurts, and yet you still can’t help but want to keep them.

  Be in my galería at 10:00 p.m. Be on time or I swear you will regret it.

  The galería.

  Again.

  It’s back to this.

  The punishments. The rage. The hate.

  I release a ragged breath, pushing one of the petals of the flowers aside and spotting several thorns. They are sharp. Almost deadly. But I pull one out anyway and smell it.

  It is sweet and strong and beautiful, but so sharp and vicious beneath the delicate petals.

  It’s . . . just like me.

  The hours go by in a flash.

  I wrote during most of the day in the library, not giving a damn if I was supposed to leave that prisoner’s room or not. I got hungry, so I went to the kitchen, but a snack tray was already prepared for me, courtesy of the fucking Jefe himself. Orange slices, pretzels, Brazilian nuts, and water.

  Eduardo couldn’t even look me in the eye. I could tell he was disappointed in me. I didn’t blame him, but it did sting a little when he didn’t speak to me.

  I took the tray back to the library and ate it all, hating every bite as I thought of him. There are only three guards around and they are the weakest ones. Not too bright, either, and I honestly think they are afraid of me. They are newer, but just as willing to give their life for their boss as the older guards are.

  As I wrote, I questioned myself. Why I didn’t just sneak out of the window in here and run away? Swim away, even?

  But then, as I scribbled out all of my hatred, my craze, and the hostile words my beating heart could no longer contain, I realized that I couldn’t run. I wouldn’t. He didn’t scare me anymore. Even though I shook and trembled, it wasn’t out of fear, I realized.

  It was out of adrenaline.

  That toxic, dangerous rush I could never get enough of.

  A rush I used to get when Toni would go for a drug run and the cops would show up, trying to bust him. We would have to ditch the brand new car he bought under a fake name and run as fast as our feet would allow.

  Our hearts would be drumming and our minds would go numb, slipping straight into survival mode, until we were in the clear. And in the clear, we would laugh in each other’s faces, so hysterically that I really assumed we were insane.

  It was fun.

  It seemed real.

  But it wasn’t.

  Toni betrayed me. He killed Daddy.

  And I think it’s because of him, and knowing that he could be the blame, that I’d rather stay here and deal with this monster instead of running away.

  I’d rather face my fears.

  Face the demon that dwells inside him.

  Because, deep down, I know I have one of my own. Deep down, I know I’m not as innocent as I pretend to be. Deep down we have a connection—a brutal, twisted connection that is impossible to deny.

  I wish I was innocent, but when you grow up the way I did, around men like Daddy and Toni and uncles who are just as crazy and bad, you know you can’t be.

  You’re either just like them, or you don’t survive. I’m tired of being the fool, the stepping stool, and the clueless little girl surrounded by kings. Mama didn’t even put up with their shit. She handled it with grace and put those who stepped out of line back in their places in a heartbeat.

  I remember it well. Daddy never disrespected her, and that�
�s because she earned that right. He was her queen. She was his ride-or-die.

  I was afraid before. I thought I would be taken care of for life with Toni.

  But I’m ready for my big crown now.

  I’m ready to be queen.

  Draco will not strip my power away from me. I’m close—so close to being at the top. So close to knowing how it will feel if it were my world. What I did only brought the real Draco back out again. The one whose passion runs deep, his viciousness so strong it could slay any man.

  He shouldn’t be lenient with me.

  He should teach me, just as I want to teach him.

  He should show me exactly how he wants me to be.

  It’s sad that I crave this, but this power—this hunger for the most ruthless man in the world—has been something I’ve longed for my entire life.

  I’m fucking sadistic, and I know it. But I can’t go back now.

  Not after all I’ve done. It’s too late for that.

  It’s too late for me to be good.

  At 9:55 I’m leaving Draco’s bedroom.

  He didn’t come up to change, but I heard him return, making commands to the few guards and maids as he passed by the room.

  I took a shower, braided my hair, put on a silk red robe, and no shoes. It’s what he told me to do—in the note that was slipped beneath the door of the library.

  The robe was hung on the bathroom door, waiting for me. Why he wanted me to wear it and braid my hair and wear no shoes, I had no clue. I could have ignored it, but when I saw the note and his handwriting, my skin buzzed.

  It buzzed because the main thing he wanted was: NO CLOTHES BENEATH.

  No clothes. Just a robe, loosely tied at the waist.

  I walk down the stairs, noticing the house is eerily calm. None of the maids are running around, no butlers calling orders to the others. None of the guards are posted at the doors.

  As I walk down the corridor, where his paintings are, I look in the empty dining room. There is one maid there, mopping the floors. She has her headphones on. I realize this is the same maid that walked in during my first few days in Draco’s bedroom—how scared she was that she did, as if I would chop off her head.