by Sunniva Dee
“Anyways.” He saws the knife against the dip between my breasts. It’s so light it doesn’t hurt, but the act shoots adrenaline through my veins and makes me shiver. A droplet of blood sieves out from underneath the blade, and thankfully, he stops.
Enthralled, he studies it. “What a red, red color you have. Not everyone has that, you know. Some have more of a rusty color, and others have—I don’t know—orange?” He lets out a snicker of the kind friends emit together. It’s so wrong it’s dissonant to my ears.
He bends toward me until his lips touch the skin between my breasts. He slurps the blood into his mouth and hums out, “We got some music? Find ‘Broken’ by DNMO on my iPhone, Mazzi.”
The music is jarring when it starts on the first sluggish notes. I love this song. It’s sensual and haunting. If I survive John Ulrich Himmel’s captivity, I’ll erase it from every playlist, and I’ll never listen to it with Gioele again.
“Mmm, now we’re talking. See, it’ll be sort of a striptease, only you don’t perform it. I do it for you.” He smiles at me again, flawless white teeth gleaming between red lips.
Almost reverently, he cuts the band between the cups of my bra. The sound is loud in the room, or maybe it’s just what it means to my ears. A dry hiccough escapes me. I wish it didn’t; he enjoys it as much as I feared he would.
“Are we ready, boys, for some titties?” Again, he turns to our audience. They nod like schoolboys, rumbling out, “Yes, please,” and “Si, signore.”
“Stay put, okay? Don’t get too eager. We don’t want to scare Lady di Nascimbeni, here now, do we?” He winks at me.
Slowly, he pulls the cups outward with both hands at once. Eyes fixed on me, he watches as cold air hits my skin and my nipples react. It’s the hostile climate, my innate rejection of him that make them pucker. In seconds, they turn small, hard, unyielding… becoming a delicacy to him.
I can’t hold back anymore. I squirm in my bonds, whimpering with the discomfort of my involuntary exhibitionism. He can’t look at me like that, with eyes that want to swallow me whole. His men can’t rove their dirty glares over me when I’m still clean, still with the finger prints of my love and my soul on me.
It’s done.
He groans, touching the front of his pants while he watches me. My whole torso is bare to the room. Anyone can look at me: he, these two guys I’ve never even spoken with, anyone it damn well pleases him to let in.
It’s the worst moment of my life when he squeezes one of my boobs, forming them with his fingers, letting the nipple peak out between them. He pulls at it, tightening just enough for my body to misunderstand. The fear, the adrenaline coursing through me. Maybe it’s survival of the species that makes me warm down low as he enjoys the feel of my breast.
“Please, let me go,” I whisper, my pride trickling off like water. Beseeching it of him, my vulnerability steers each word, leaving my mind as bare as my torso.
“Oh, pretty Silvina. You know I can’t do that,” he whispers back. The tone he carries holds misunderstood reverence, the reverence of someone omnipotent, and just like that, I’ve made this minute more precious to him than the last.
The realization floods my vision with tears. I blink them away, stare into his eyes, hoping to find some trace of compassion, a shard of empathy hidden under his evil. But what I find makes me squeeze my eyes shut; there is no mercy, no kindness, or compassion.
The connection John forces is that of victim and conqueror. He forces intimacy in the form of submission. Palming my breasts, he lets his gaze flow between my bare skin and my eyes.
“Boys, we’re ready for you. Take a look,” he says so sweetly, like he’s doing it all to make me happy.
The two men stride up to us. One of them looks at him, asking, “May I?” It’s asked of his boss, not of me, the owner of the breasts puckering with hostility in front of him.
“Stop it! Get the fuck away from me!”
A searing blow to the side of my face. Black dots flow through my vision while I blink away his threats. Someone chuckles. A hand over my nose, my mouth. It cuts off my airway—I can’t breathe!
“It’s not good to hyperventilate. If you don’t stop, pretty Silvina, I’ll have to control your breathing too. It’s gonna get tedious.”
I will myself into control. Calm down.
Calm. Down.
“You good?” John asks.
I open my eyes, trying to see him through the fog. He’s grey, fading in and out for a second, but then I see it, that oddly tender expression.
“Yes,” I whisper. “Don’t let them touch me.”
He lets out a snort. “Don’t push your luck, darling. I decide what comes next for you. Okay?” He turns his head away from me, and my heart picks up speed again. “Zettici? She’s ready for you now. Her tits are fucking soft, and those nipples are like miniature hard-ons. Have fun, man.”
I blink, watching John step back a little. He inserts a hand behind his zipper, rubbing himself calmly. Eyes steady, he watches my expression while his men narrow in on me. First, a calloused hand closes around me. Then, man number two grips my other breast. I let out an involuntary gasp.
Lake Como. Swimming with Gioele.
One of them groans. “She’s delicious, man. You gonna strip her all the way down? I’d love to ram my cock in her.”
My heart skips a beat at his words. Silently, I pray. Please, God. Please, let him have mercy.
John laughs quietly while his inspection runs from my breasts to his men’s expressions. “Nah,” he finally says. “We’ll have one piece of candy at a time. Now, go ahead.” He juts his chin toward me. “Have a taste.”
One of them has a bald spot at the center of his head. Idly, my brain tells me he looks like a monk. Only he’s not monk-like when he dives over me, forming both hands around a breast and starts to suckle on me. There’s a wild sensation of pull from the root of my boob. In the midst of my rage, my grief, my despair, it sends a strike of pleasure to the bottom of my stomach with each pull he’s taking.
I let out a moan, and John laughs. “She likes it.”
“No! I hate you. I wish you all died.” I expect to be punched—in the stomach, in the face—anything would be better than this. They’re so intimate, these caresses that should be kept sacred between my love and me.
John’s eyes only narrow, his dreamy smile tightening for a moment. I know what it means. It’s a silent promise that I’ll pay for my defiance later.
“Go on, Mazzi,” he tells the other man, and he too dives in. Suddenly, I’m some animal being suckled by two grown men. All I am is skin and softness to be enjoyed until they’re done.
I try to fend off my sobs, but they come after all when I realize that I’m not dry. Dear God, please don’t let him touch me there too. Despicable men, despicable me.
“Go for it,” John encourages when the balding man lets go of my breast with one hand to make it disappear inside his pants. His mouth rocks over me, with the effort of his hand. He lets out huffs of desire while he pleasures himself, face growing sweaty with the effort. Unable to look at them, I shut my eyes. I want my mind to flee, but it doesn’t allow me to. I am stuck.
“Can I jack off on her?” he pants, sending a deer-look at his boss.
“No way.” John steps closer, stroking my stomach down the ridge in the middle until he touches the lining of my pants.
Please don’t. Please don’t. Please don’t.
With one finger, he traces the thin cotton band separating bareness from hidden warmth. He doesn’t overstep.
“Come in your pants. That’s fine,” he says.
A choked growl escapes the guy while he bites down around my nipple. “Fuck,” he pants. “I can’t wait for more. Anything I can do, man.” He straightens, staring pleadingly at John, while the other guy starts to huff. Greedily, he reaches for my other brea
st, rubbing his groin against the bed while he kneads me.
“That’s hot,” John purrs, watching while the man squeezes both of my nipples into thin lines between his fingers. They turn white with the lack of blood. I wish it hurt. At least, that would’ve been something.
“Sorry, sir. I just have to,” he gasps, then he’s on the bed, pressing his dick against my thigh. I gasp. Maybe John will hit his guy the way he hit me?
With quick strokes, the leech pushes against me, up and down, up and down. He’s dry-humping me while my breasts grow pink in his hands.
John has no problem with it. He lets out a content sigh and sits down next to us, watching up close as Mazzi comes in a spastic orgasm against my thigh.
I’m frozen on the bed when the guys are ordered to stop touching me.
“All right. Everyone’s had their fun?” John asks, looking between the three of us as if I were a voluntary partaker.
The men mumble out their agreement.
“Cool, now get me the sleep-aid.” He snaps his fingers to Bald Spot, who strides back to a tray I’d hoped held food. He picks up a small glass of what looks like thin juice, stirs it, and gives it to John.
“Here you go, darling. You’ll be getting a good night of sleep, starting in”—he looks playfully at his watch–“two minutes. This shit works fast. Open up.”
I scream, bucking on the bed. His reaction is instantaneous. With one hard slap to the face and the still half-erect cock of one of his helpers pressed against my stomach as he straddles me, I’m incapacitated.
“Drink voluntarily, or this will be unpleasant.”
“What is it?” I whisper.
“All you need to know is that you’ll be fully awake for a lot more fun in the morning. Nighty-night, pretty Silvina.”
19. CULTURE OF LOVE
GIOELE
I wake up with a start when my phone buzzes.
Call me when you wake up.
I call Isaias immediately.
“Hey. I’ve got news.”
I want to be a wuss and ask if it’s good or bad news. I wish I wasn’t too old for that. “Whatcha got?”
“A few things. The guy you were going to have a chat with?”
“John something.”
“Yeah.” My brother clears his throat, hesitating, like he’s not sure how to give me the news. It’s unprecedented. Isaias is an expert. Within ten minutes, he knows how to approach people. I’ve seen him formulate issues and manipulate guys in entirely unique ways to make them work toward the outcome he wanted. When it comes to me, he knows me better than anyone, but here he is stalling and starting over again, until Tatiana speaks up in the background.
“Do you want me to tell him?”
“What the fuck’s going on?” I shout.
“Gioele, it’s good news, okay? John contacted Gabriela again. She forgot to turn off her regular phone after she got her throwaway, and a message ticked in from him.”
“What’s he saying? Extortion?”
“No. He wants you to come to San Francisco.”
“Me? Why?”
“He didn’t say. But if you don’t, he can’t guarantee Silvina’s safety.”
I snort at that. “Like we’ve ever thought she was safe. What’s his deal, and what does he have to do with the Colombini?”
“I’m putting you on speaker phone. Tatiana and I are down at the beach, so no prying ears.”
“Hey, Gioele. Did you sleep well?” Tatiana asks.
“What?” I can’t even. “Yeah. So what else? Any news about where and when, what I’m supposed to do? Money?” Shit’s moving too slowly. They’re fucking taking a stroll on the beach while Silvina is in some maniac’s custody. He will die.
“First things first,” Tatiana says. The wind howls over the speaker. She fumbles with the phone and gets it in a better position. “The guy’s a student. He’s been in Silvina’s Biology classes for three semesters. He’s her lab partner, so she knows him pretty well.”
“Okay, okay.” This is info I know anyway, although who cares how long they’ve been in class together. Student, period. She knows him, period.
“His name is John Ulrich Himmel. Mom’s Damiana Santa Colombini.”
I suck in a breath that hurts my lungs. “He’s a Colombini?”
“Yeah, and not just any Colombini. Randolfo Santa Colombini is his uncle.”
I shake my head. “But he’s blond. He has fucking blue eyes, looks nothing like them.”
“That’s where the father comes in,” Isaias mutters. “Dieter Maximillian Himmel.”
“Yeah. Fuck me.”
“And you were getting a job with Harmony Femme?”
“You’re seriously bringing that up. I thought we had more important things going on.”
He doesn’t answer, just waits for realization to hit me.
“Okay, you’re wondering how he knew too,” I huff out.
“Actually, I know how he knew. I’ve got a guy who knows a guy.”
“You trying to be funny right now? I’m not laughing.”
“You need to work on your attitude, or this is going to be one unpleasant job,” the asshole says.
“Job! This is a job to you?”
“No. Fuck, Gioele. But this isn’t the time to be combative. We’re getting Silvina out of his goddamn claws, and to do that we need to work together.”
“Gioele.” Tatiana’s voice is mild. I exhale, pulling myself together.
“Yeah. What else do I need to know? I have to go.”
“John’s father has annexed Harmony Femme. We’re not sure how it happened, if Keegan sold the company or if it’s been acquired against his will. We’ll be looking into it further. But that’s probably how John knew you were going to work for them.”
I rub my forehead with two impatient fingers. What does this mean for Silvina? Me, I sure as hell won’t be working for Harmony Femme now. “Okay. Text me the asshole’s number, and I’ll take it from here.”
“I’ll be sending a couple of guys up to you,” Isaias says.
“I’m not waiting,” I bark. “She’s not staying with that piece of shit for a second longer than she needs to.”
“Sounds good. Go ahead and get started. Bully and Fritz will get in contact with you as soon as they’re in S.F.”
It’s one in the morning. Clad in all black, I’m on the Suzuki outside 14510 James Martin Avenue. I’ve been inside, and neither John nor Silvina is there. No one’s guarding the place either. That’s so sloppy, I left him my business card: a baseball bat to his flat-screen. With the size of that thing, I expect he has an oversized car and no fucking cock.
I’m staring at his number on the cell. I hate that I’ll have to use it.
He doesn’t pick up. Only the standard voicemail from the phone company tells me to leave a message. I don’t.
Seething with impatience, I try again with the same result. I redial, redial, redial.
“Fuck!” I throw my phone at the wall, regretting it even before it hits the wood. While it lands, I pray it doesn’t die.
I pick it up. Turn it in my hands. Press “redial.” Thank God, it still works. When I get his voicemail again, I send him a text.
This is Gioele di Nascimbeni. Tell me where to pick up Silvina A.S.A.P.
As I rev the bike to life, a buzz against my thigh alerts me to a reply. I get off and flip open the phone.
You got here fast! I’m impressed. Meet me at Harmony Femme tomorrow at ten a.m. sharp. Come alone.
“Come alone.” I laugh under my breath. Crime show wannabe. Then, I realize he wants me to fucking wait until the morning? Hell no.
I call him. My call is rejected. I call again. Supposedly, his phone isn’t within range. The urge to destroy the phone against a hard surface is more than I can take. I let out a ro
ar and text him back.
I want to pick her up NOW!!!
Sorry, no can do. Nighty-night. ;-)
Winky-face. A fucking winky-face! I’m about to rage-text him back when Isaias calls. “What!” I shout.
“I take it no luck so far?” he says.
“No.” I breathe slowly in and out through my nostrils. “He’s not at his house.”
“The James Martin Avenue address?”
“Yeah.”
“Of course not. He wouldn’t take her there.”
I seethe inwardly. “He wants me to meet him at Harmony Femme at ten a.m.”
“All right.”
“What do you mean, ‘all right?’ I don’t have nine hours to lay around and wait for him!”
“Gioele. You need to cool it. He wants to play with you, okay? Here’s the thing: this guy’s not going to just hand you our cousin. He wants something from you. Because he wants something from you, nothing’s going to happen to her tonight.”
“So you want me to sit around and do nothing until he makes me jump like a fucking puppet or something? That it?”
“No. Head over to Harmony Femme and snoop around. Keep it low key, though.”
“Whatever that means,” I scoff.
“As in don’t explode in there when you see she’s not there either. It won’t help.”
I swallow. “He could be keeping her there.”
“Doubtful. From what we’ve profiled, he’s no idiot. But since he wants to meet you there, it’d come in handy to know the place inside out. Don’t forget to check for an alarm.”
“Well, clearly you take me for an idiot.”
“No, just a reckless hard-ass with a death wish.”
I’m about to object when I notice the tone in his voice. It’s affectionate. I close my eyes. “Fuck, Isaias. I’m so scared.”
“I know. We’ll figure this shit out. We’ve been in rougher waters.”
“No,” I say with certainty.
“True, not you.” His exhale sounds like wind against the receiver. “Go, fratello. We’ll get the bastard. Ti amo.”
“I love you too.”