by Izzy Sweet
Neither his beauty nor his money can make up for all his horrible faults.
He’s controlling, and aggressive when he gets angry. He hurt me the last time I refused to let him through my apartment door. He shoved me into the damn wall and pulled out a chunk of my hair in front of my daughter Abigail.
I’m trapped. The best I can do right now is try to make him happy so he doesn’t kill me…
I try to pull my hand away from Ivan’s mouth and his fingers tighten around me, squeezing painfully.
I endure the compression for as long as I can before a yelp slips past my lips.
Ivan’s eyes flash and then he grins as if I’ve somehow pleased him. His grip relaxes and I let my hand drop to the table before trying to pull it back.
I watch him warily until I have my hand safely in my own lap.
Leaning back, he flicks his fingers at his empty glass and his vodka is refilled immediately.
“Amy…” he purrs huskily.
Rubbing my hand beneath the table cloth, I make my expression as neutral as possible. “Yes?”
“Finish your drink.”
Inside, I’m fuming. Reaching out, I grab my drink and it takes every ounce of self-control I have to keep from tossing it in his smirking face. He lifts his own glass and sips from it while watching me.
I bring my glass to my mouth and my stomach twists as I sip. Already, the wine is sour on my tongue and the warm buzz has become an annoying after-effect.
Our eyes meet over the rims of our glasses. His bore into mine like icy daggers until I finish the wine off completely. The glass empty, I’m afraid to set it back down on the table, afraid he’ll order the waiter to refill it.
I lean back, keeping the empty glass in my grip.
Smirk sharpening, Ivan snaps his fingers and a body peels away from the shadows, one of his beefy bodyguards coming forward. Murmured words are exchanged between the two before a long, black velvet box is produced.
My eyes fall upon the box and I’m filled with dread and trepidation. Another gift? Please no…
Setting his glass down on the table, Ivan rises and approaches me, the box in his hand.
Watching him approach, I shake my head. “Ivan… You shouldn’t have…”
Seriously, he shouldn’t have. Every gift he’s ever given me he’s used to force some kind of repayment out of me. In the beginning it was sweet, he would only ask for another date.
More recently though it’s become a kiss while his hands try to fondle me…
He plucks the empty glass from my hand and sets it on the table. Immediately the waiter comes forward and refills it.
“Ah, but I must, my myshka. Tonight is a special night, and I want you to remember it always.”
Bending over me, he snaps the box open in front of my eyes. I blink at all the diamonds, their dazzling sparkles almost blinding me.
“It’s too much… I can’t possibly accept it,” I protest softly as he lifts the strands of diamonds from the box.
Ivan clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he wraps the strands around my neck. “It’s only a trinket.”
“A trinket?” I repeat incredulously. The three strands are completely covered in diamonds, and I know they must be worth thousands.
“Yes,” he says, his breath tickling my ear. “Only a trinket. When you give me my heir then I will present you with proper jewels.”
Heir? What the fuck? This is the first I’m hearing of this…
Ivan buries his face in my hair and breathes in deep.
I shudder, wanting to rip the diamonds off of my neck.
“Come,” he says, pulling away and grabbing me by my sore hand.
“Where are we going?” I ask, trying not to panic as he pulls me to my feet.
His arm wraps around my waist, bringing me close. “It’s time to retire for the evening.”
I shake my head and glance around, searching for an escape.
My eyes fall upon the table. “But I didn’t even get to finish my drink…”
Ivan tips his head back, chuckling. Reaching around me, he grabs my glass and hands it to me. “Here, you can finish on the way.”
Pushing the glass into my hand, I have no choice but to accept it. He gives me a pointed look until I lift the glass to my lips and drink.
Fuck it. If I have to endure this, I might as well be drunk.
Neck arching back, I drain the wine completely as he guides me. His fingers flex around my hip protectively and he leads me to the back of the restaurant, through the kitchen, and to a door that opens to the back alley.
He has some silly rule about never leaving through the front.
I set the empty glass on a counter before we pass through the back door, stepping into the night. Ivan’s black limo is idling and the chauffeur holds the back door open for us.
Ivan pauses for a moment, looking towards the two bodyguards in the alley before dragging me forward. We take three steps and then Ivan tenses beside me.
Dropping my hand, he whirls around, and everything happens so fast I’m not sure what is happening.
Ivan crumbles to the ground and one of his bodyguards approaches me.
For a hysterical moment, I want to thank the bodyguard for knocking out Ivan but then the man grabs me. His hand slaps over my mouth and my lips are stuck together, I can’t move them.
I gaze up at the bodyguard, my eyes wide and watering as I scream behind the tape in panic.
His face hardens and then the world goes black.
As the black silk hood settles over my head and two strong arms lift me up, I can’t help but feel a little relieved…
How fucked up is that?
3
Andrew
Bagged and gagged. That went almost too easy, but for now, I’m not going to complain. Shit, I even have a hot fucking chick in the back with our package, but it’s going to be a shame if I have to consider her excess baggage.
Lucifer doesn’t like baggage when it comes to jobs. He wants everything neat and orderly. And this is a whopper of excess baggage.
We were supposed to take only Ivan and the wife, not his bimbo.
Snagging his fuck-toy was a must though when he brought the girl out the back door with him. If he hadn’t been such a gigantic douche nozzle, manhandling her out the door like he did, we could have snatched him and left her in the dust.
Shit. Things like this only lead to fucking complications. I don’t want complications. Fuck, it should have been his stupid fucking wife. Not this… this… fucking sexy young girl.
Shaking my head, I frown at the two people sitting across from me in the black limousine.
Turning my head, I tell Peter, “Let’s get to the warehouse, but add a few minutes to the trip. I need to figure out what to do about our little complication.”
Peter nods his head and I turn back to watch my prisoners for a few more minutes. The girl is sitting there, stiff as a board. Her every muscle looks locked in strain as she turns her head towards every little sound.
I bet she’s coming to grips with her dire situation. I bet she knows she is a loose strand, like a weed that needs to be plucked from the garden.
I fucking hate killing women, it turns my stomach when I do it, but… Fuck. Stupid fucking Ivan is dooming her.
Leaning forward, I growl out, “You stupid fuck, Ivan.”
Lashing out with a fist, I snap it into the bag that’s hiding that shit-fuck’s face. I feel the protruding bulge of his nose before the sharp stab of pain lances through my hand.
The scream of pain from behind his gag is just a little louder than my growl of, “Fuck!”
Shaking my hand, I hear a chuckle coming from the front seat behind me. I’ve fucked my damn hand up again. This damn hand has been nagging me all year.
Peter says, “Shit, did you just fuck your hand up again, Andrew?”
Ignoring him, I reach forward and whip the bag off of Ivan’s head.
He’s got fucking spirit tho
ugh, I’ll give him that. Bloody nose, tears streaking down his cheeks. He still looks pissed off. And if looks could kill? I’d be castrated.
Shaking my hand, I rub the knuckle that is sending sharp stabs of pain through it. I fractured the damn thing when I was taking care of Bart, and I haven’t really had a chance to let the thing heal up.
Too many people are getting swept up into the maelstrom that is Lucifer’s rage. It’s been a year of fire and brimstone.
Too bad Ivan’s on the wrong side of the fence right now. I’m positive he’s never been on the receiving end of the treatment he’s getting right now. Well, fuck him and his bitch ass looks. Dude isn’t going to be such a pretty boy now.
That fucking broken nose will make sure of that.
“You’ve become a problem, Ivan. Now, usually Lucifer would handle things like you exclusively… But that’s not how things are happening now. The inner circle has been unleashed on fucks like you.”
He yells a bunch of words through the tape but they are too gargled to understand.
Shrugging my shoulders at him, I say, “Can’t understand a single fucking word you’re saying right now. I’d remove that tape from your mouth, but then you would probably be squealing like your bimbo over there.”
Looking at her fully for a moment, I can appreciate what the man sees in this girl.
Her legs look fucking amazing. She wasn’t put into the car gently, so the eyeful of legs and just a hint of exposed crotch is a pretty fucking hot sight.
She looks a little too elegant for someone like Ivan, too… She doesn’t look fake like Ivan’s wife does. No, this girl has never had the touch of a surgeon’s knife.
From what I saw of her in the restaurant… fuck. If she was mine, I’d never let her out of my bed.
He screams at me again through the tape, and I can tell Ivan really doesn’t appreciate me looking at his chick.
Fuck him.
Turning to look at him, I just can’t take all the noise he keeps spurting out like some fucking stuck pig.
Leaning forward again, I slam my fist into his stomach. The air expels from his nose explosively and he loses all focus on me.
Turning my head to Peter, I say, “Take us to the warehouse. We’ll see what Lucifer wants to do. We need this pile of shit out of the car. He smells like sour vodka and piss.”
Amy
I can’t see. No matter how much I blink my eyes, there’s no light. No hint of anything around me. Only darkness.
This damn bag on my head is stifling.
At first, when I was grabbed and tossed into whatever vehicle we’re in, I was on the verge of hyperventilating. Panicking about my situation. But I cut that shit out quick. All it got me was my own hot breath in my face and that totally sucked ass.
Complication. They haven’t outright said it but I know that’s me. Whatever they have planned, I’m not supposed to be a part of it.
Somewhere near me is a man, a man with a very deep, rumbling voice, who is holding my life in his hands.
If I could beg or plead, I would. I’d get down on my knees and promise anything. But all I can do is sit here on this seat and pray that they realize I’m no threat. I won’t talk about anything that’s happened.
They only want Ivan… and fuck, they can totally have him. Whatever they have planned for him he probably deserves it.
My lips are sealed.
I know it’s useless trying to do anything about this.
You see, I’ve already learned my lesson when dealing with these kinds of men. They do the things they do and get it away with it because they’re not afraid of the authorities. They are the authorities in Garden City. Meting out their own rules and justice.
They have the police and the judges and everyone else above them in their pockets.
I learned this the hard way when I tried to get a restraining order against Ivan. Not only was my petition dismissed, the judge actually lectured me about wasting his time and advised me to make up with Ivan. He threatened to turn the authorities on me.
Beside me Ivan gurgles and I strain my ears, trying to listen over him. The man who spoke earlier is quiet now. Too quiet.
If only I could speak. If only I could say something…
I can sense him though. I can feel his eyes boring into me. All the little hairs on my body stand on end, pointing towards him.
I’m terrified of him, yet something about that fear also excites me.
I feel so fucked up for feeling like this.
The vehicle slows and comes to a complete stop. The engine turns off.
Fuck, this is it.
One of the doors opens, and I feel a burst of cold air hitting my legs. Ivan grunts and I sense a struggle beside me.
“Fuck, he does stink,” someone mutters unhappily. “Come on, you stupid fuck.”
The air beside me moves and then there’s a thump. A body hitting the pavement?
“Really? You’re going to make me drag you?”
There’s a series of grunts and the gritty sound of gravel grinding against something.
I’m so focused on what’s going on outside that I completely forget about the danger inside.
Suddenly a warm hand comes down on my bare thigh and I gasp, stiffening.
Strong fingers wrap around my thigh, digging into my flesh. But the grip doesn’t hurt… No, there’s something about it that’s strangely possessive.
The fingers relax, flexing, and then they drag upwards. “You’re going to be a good girl, yes?” the deep voice asks.
For a heartbeat I’m so terrified I do nothing. Then quickly realizing my mistake, I start to rapidly nod my head.
I’ll be a good girl. I’ll be so good, I try to mentally project to him.
I’ll do anything to make it home to Abigail.
His hand reaches the apex of my thigh and then there’s a pressure. Oh god… Does he want me to spread for him?
“If you do everything you’re told,” he growls and pushes harder, forcing me to open my legs for him. “I just might be able to get you out of this.”
Might?! He might be able to get me out of this?
Once again I start to pant, my own hot little breaths hitting the bag.
His fingers move and then I feel them brushing against my panties. I freeze.
“Would be such a shame…” he mutters and then his hand pulls away.
The tension breaks and my lungs pull in much needed air. Before I can think too much about what he just said, or did for that matter, my arm is grabbed and I’m pulled out of the vehicle.
Stumbling, I try to get my bearings.
The cool air hits me and I shiver, straightening. Fingers tighten around my arm, pulling me forward.
My heels dig into gravel and I’m grateful for the firm grip that guides me. The small rocks cause me to slip and slide a bit.
More than a couple of times I almost fall on my ass.
After a few minutes, we step inside a building, shielded from the biting wind.
No longer focusing all of my attention on trying to prevent a twisted ankle, I realize there was a conversation going on that just ended abruptly.
Because of me?
All at once my hackles rise and my chest constricts with panic.
I can’t see them but I can feel them. The monsters in the darkness…
A door slams behind me and I nearly jump out of my skin.
The grip around my arm tightens, nudging me forward, then digs in deep when I don’t budge.
I’m too frightened to keep moving.
My heels are trying to dig into the smooth floor while alarm bells go off inside my head.
“Be a good girl,” the deep voice from earlier hisses as he drags me forward.
I’m already fucking up, I quickly realize. How the hell am I going to make it through this?
The fingers around my arm loosen and then I’m pushed backward, stumbling before I land on a chair.
Rattled, I shake my head a little and then
my arms are yanked behind my back. My wrists slam together, and something is wrapped around them. Tightly binding them.
It all happens so quick, it’s so damn efficient… they must have a lot of practice at this…
Beside me, someone groans in agony and it takes me a moment to realize it’s Ivan.
Suddenly, the bag is yanked off my head and my eyes blur with tears as they adjust to the bright spotlight beaming down on me. I blink quickly to clear them.
Standing in front of me, with a smirk tugging at his lips, is the most beautiful man I’ve ever laid eyes on.
He’s so beautiful, so unreal and ethereal, at first I think he must be a figment of my imagination. Blonde hair and blue eyes. Features so perfect I can find no flaw in them. The light seems to caress his glowing skin, but the longer and longer I look at him, the more I feel distressed.
He’s too perfect… almost angelic.
But no angel would be in a place like this.
My eyes start to shy away from the beautiful man but then he steps forward, grabs a lock of my hair, and lifts it.
The smirk on his lips sharpens and he glances to my left.
I look over and gasp behind the tape covering my mouth. Ivan has been tied to a chair beside me, but his face is messed up. His right eye is swollen closed and his nose looks broken, bent crooked. And there’s dried blood caking his nostrils and the tape covering his mouth.
“I could have sworn your wife was a blonde, Ivan,” the beautiful man says with some amusement as his fingers rub my hair thoughtfully before dropping it.
Wife? Ivan is married?
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me…
My eyes narrow angrily at Ivan and the beautiful man tips his head back and laughs.
I ignore him, my anger momentarily overriding my good sense as his words repeat inside of my head.
All this time. All this fucking time Ivan has been pursuing me—stalking me and trying to control me—he’s been married?!
Buying me things… Taking me out… Trying to sleep with me… When he already has a wife at home?