by Ella Miles
I look up at the sun beating down on me. I’ll just spend my day here, soaking up the sun. It’s not really freedom, but it will give me the illusion of freedom, unlike the tower that I’ve spent the last few days trapped in.
I close my eyes, trying to think of someplace nice to take me away from here. I dream of Heath and me on a far-off beach somewhere on our honeymoon. I pretend that, instead of here, I’m lying in his arms.
“I love you, Nina. I’ll love you forever,” Heath whispers into my hair.
I laugh. “You don’t have to spend our entire honeymoon telling me that. I know you love me. That’s what the wedding was about.”
“But I want to. I need to tell you every single day for forever so that you don’t forget it.”
“I’ll never forget it,” I say, kissing his soft lips. “Now, go get me a drink. I’m thirsty.”
He smiles and rolls off the lounger we have been lying on together while I spread out.
“What do you want, gorgeous?”
I scrunch my nose like I’m thinking real hard. “Anything that comes with one of those umbrella things.”
He chuckles. “Everything comes with those here.”
I smile. “Exactly. As long as it’s fruity and it has alcohol in it, then I’m happy.”
Heath nods and leaves to get me a drink while I nap in the warm sun.
“What are you dreaming about?” he asks when he returns.
“You.” I grin. “Your muscles wrapped around me, your cock pushing against my belly, my hands tangled in your dark hair—”
“Dark hair, huh? I thought your husband was a blond.”
My eyes shoot open, and I see Matteo standing over me with a sexy grin on his face. It’s the same one I’ve seen from Arlo—except, unlike Arlo, Matteo smiles much more freely. Arlo spends most of his day with an intense brooding and a serious expression on his face. Matteo, on the other hand, lives life more freely. Like, if today were his last day, he would live it being happy.
I quickly sit up. “My husband is a blond.”
Matteo raises an eyebrow. “Then, whom were you dreaming about if it wasn’t your dear husband? It couldn’t have been a sexy Italian, could it?”
I frown. Matteo’s right. I was dreaming about a sexy Italian at the end. I was dreaming of Arlo.
Even though he was the one to bring me into this nightmare, my subconscious is still obsessed with him. I might be able to control my thoughts during the day. I might be able to stop thinking about him. But the sex I had with Arlo is too much for my body to stop obsessing about. It is still the best sex I’ve ever had. And I don’t know how to stop it from happening again. Whatever happens here, I won’t hurt Heath. I won’t willingly fuck any of these men. I will fight until I kill them rather than let them fuck me.
“What do you want, Matteo?” I ask instead of answering his question.
He chuckles as he runs his hand through his long Italian hair. “If you don’t answer me, I’m just going to assume you were having a dirty dream about me.”
“Assume all you want; it doesn’t make it true.”
“It doesn’t make it not true either.”
I frown, not giving in. It won’t help to tell Matteo the truth or to lie to him. He won’t be happy that I was dreaming about his brother and not him. And I’m not a good enough liar to convince him that I was dreaming about him.
Matteo seems to let it go though. “I came for you.”
I take a deep breath, trying not to add fear to his words. It was an innocent statement. He didn’t say he was going to rape me or beat me. Just that he came for me.
“I’m a little busy at the moment,” I say, closing my eyes again.
Matteo’s heart might not be completely pure, but so far, he’s always given me a choice. He hasn’t forced me to do anything. He’s the only hope I have left that he might eventually help me.
“Well, you are going to have to change your plans. Because I need you. Now.”
The way he says I need you makes me ache deep in my belly. It’s only been a couple of days since I’ve had sex, but being surrounded by sexy Italians is going to turn me into a sex-craving lunatic even if they are keeping me here against my will. It still doesn’t change the fact that, when they speak, I lose my mind.
“No, you need to change your plans.”
“You don’t get a say in this, beautiful. Your choices are, you come with me freely, or I’ll carry you. Now, which will it be? Because I really would like to get my hands on you again.”
My eyes shoot open. I don’t like Matteo’s choices game that he plays with me. It’s never really a choice. Just like choosing to become this family’s slave or dying wasn’t really a choice either.
“I’ll walk,” I say as I slowly get up.
Matteo respects my wishes and keeps his hands off me.
As soon as I’m standing, I run.
This time, instead of running away from the house, I run toward it. Matteo said that, as long as I was in my bedroom, I wouldn’t be touched. If Matteo is going to give me some choice between him forcefully fucking me in the ass or me willingly sucking his dick, he’s got another thing coming. I will do no such thing. I just have to make it up to the bedroom. And then I’ll spend the rest of my time hiding out there and sneaking out in the middle of the night for food.
Unless Matteo was lying.
But it’s the best shot I have.
So, I run full force into the mansion and down hallways until I get to the staircase that leads up to my room. I don’t hear Matteo running after me anymore. He should have been able to catch me in my heels. But he either has given up or he knows that he is going to come into my room even if it breaks the “rules.”
But I keep running up the stairs. I keep running down the long, dark hallway until I’m feet from the door.
When I see Enrico, I try to stop. But I’m not prepared to stop. I run straight into him.
I try to turn and run the other way, but his hands grab my shoulders.
“Let me go!” I scream, trying to get out of his arms.
He’s old and out of shape, and I know I can overtake him.
He shakes his head. “You should be black and blue by now. You should be broken and curled up into a ball in your room. But you’re not.”
I grin. “Because I’m stronger than you think. And I’m not some plaything that you can beat when you want.”
Enrico smiles. “No. You’re not strong. You’re weak. Just like my sons. They think that playing some game with your head first is how they are going to win this fight. But you aren’t like the rest. You’re a fighter; I’ll give you that. Feisty. You won’t give up anything easily. That is why you need to be broken.”
I stop fighting for just a second as I try to understand his words. “What do you mean?”
“It means that I’m going to be the one who breaks you. My sons need to learn a lesson. I’m going to beat you until you can’t move, slave. I’m going to fuck you until all you can think about is my cock. I’m going to break you. And, when I’m done, my sons will have their turns.”
The panic quickly turns into survival.
I knee him hard in the crotch, and he immediately releases me, not able to deal with the pain.
“You won’t fucking touch me. I’m not your slave!” I scream at him as I run back down the stairs.
I had it right the first time. I need to get the fuck away from these deranged people.
I make it three steps down when I see two men walking up the stairs with the intent to grab me. I know from how they are dressed in dark clothes that they are Enrico’s men.
The adrenaline takes over, and I run full force at them. I punch the first man as hard as I can in the nose, getting just a glimpse of the blood that pours out of him, before I get to the second man. I kick him as hard as I can in the crotch, but he grabs my leg before I make contact.
I fall onto the stairs, hitting my head against the wrought iron railing before I land on the gro
und. I don’t have to see the blood to know that my head is fucked up. I want to keep fighting. I don’t want them to take me so easily, but the world starts spinning. My head feels like it’s about to explode from the pressure and pain.
I spent seven years preparing. Trying my best to take every self-defense class I could. I learned how to use a gun. I learned how to control my obsessions.
But nothing was ever going to be enough. I’m still going to get raped. Beaten. I’m still going to be a slave. Because I’m not strong enough to save myself from any of it.
9
Arlo
It’s been one week since I last saw Nina.
And, every day that goes by, my heart hurts a little more. I thought that keeping my distance would make it easier for me to do what would have to be done, but it didn’t. I know I don’t have real feelings for her. That’s not what this is. I just want to fuck her again. She was the best fuck of my life. Her pussy was tight and inviting. Her body had curves in all the right places. But what I loved the most was how she craved my control. She wanted it. She’s fucked up, like me. She got off on acting like my slave.
And I’m desperate to feel that again. Even though I’ve had real slaves, none of them have done anything for me like what Nina did for me that one night. I’ve often pictured her face on the other whores while fucking them. But that doesn’t do anything for me either.
I want to fuck Nina again. Now. I want to rape her for real. I want to hear her cry when I stretch her open while she secretly wants more of my cock. I want it so bad that I can’t even focus on work, the only thing I give a shit about in this world.
The last time I saw Nina was in the dining room when my father slobbered all over her gorgeous face. She looked at me like she needed me to save her. I can’t fuck her until she realizes that I won’t save her. When she finally stops looking at me like a sad puppy dog that needs rescuing, then I’ll fuck her.
But I need to see her. I need to give a fresh face to my dirty dreams. I need to see her so that, when I jack off, I have a new image of her to get off to.
She’s probably still hiding in her bedroom. Matteo fed her some stupid lie about how she was safe in her bedroom. Maybe from him, but the rest of us won’t give her much space.
I should be heading off to work. I have a new deal that I’m working on closing that could bring us billions in weapons to sell, but I can’t. Not until I see her face.
I run up the stairs to her bedroom and then hesitate. Should I knock first or just barrel inside like I own the place? I choose the latter.
I push the door open, surprised that she doesn’t have it locked.
I don’t see her when I go inside. She’s not in the bed. Not on the bench overlooking the gardens below. She’s not in the bathroom. She’s not here.
I sigh. Matteo might have finally decided it was time to break her. Good. Let him. He can do the dirty work, and then I’ll be able to do what I need to.
But I guess I’ll have to wait until later to see her.
I run back down the stairs, knowing that I only have twenty minutes before I’m supposed to be at my meeting.
“Checking in on our guest? Isn’t it a bit early for you to make your move? You usually let me do all the dirty work first,” Matteo says, sipping his coffee in the dining room.
I frown. She’s not with him.
“Where’s Gia?” I ask.
He shrugs. “I think she went shopping.”
Matteo turns his attention back to the newspaper he’s reading.
I shake my head. Who reads newspapers anymore?
But he’s old school. He’ll never stop trying to impress our father.
Father.
He’s the only one unaccounted for. And he’s been dying to get his hands on a slave for months. He usually has his own playthings to keep him occupied. But he broke his last one too quickly. She didn’t survive long. Only a month. She found his gun and killed herself before he could touch her again.
Nina is stronger than her, but I have no idea how long he’s had her as his slave. A few hours? A day? Or the whole week?
If it’s been a week, Nina will be close to the point where she’d rather die than deal with another second of my father. And I let it happen.
I run through the mansion, leaving my idiot brother sitting, clueless, in the dining room. My father’s quarters are on the complete opposite side from Nina’s. Matteo and I made sure of that. We tried to protect her from him, but we’ve failed in the first week. We never thought he would go for her so quickly. But he must have lost his patience with us after the last one.
I expect to see the usual guards at the door, but there are none. That means he doesn’t think she has enough strength to escape anymore. He thinks he has her under his complete control. If there is one thing I know about Nina, it is, no matter what he does to her, she will never be controlled.
I burst into his room, and my stomach curls when I see her. She’s tied to the bed, face up. Blood covers every inch of her face. Bruises and more blood stain her body. Her arms and legs are spread wide as ropes tie her to each bedpost, but I’m not sure the restraints are necessary. Her body is so broken that she couldn’t possibly have the strength to fight him off her or even stand on her own.
My father walks into the room, his dick in his hand, sticking out of his slacks. “Come to watch the show?” he asks.
“No, I’ve come to have my turn.”
He grins. “You don’t like them bloody though. You like them fighting.”
He’s right. I don’t like fucking helpless women like he does. I’m not a coward. I fuck them against their will, sure, but only when that’s what they want. I’m not my father.
I look at Nina. Her eyes finally find me in the room. I expect the same help-me look in her eyes that she gives me every time I am in the same room with her. But her eyes don’t ask for help. They expect nothing from me.
“Get out of here. You can have her when I’m finished with her,” my father says, turning his attention to her.
My stomach churns at the thought of my father fucking her like this. I can taste the bile in my mouth. It’s gone on for far too long.
I should have known.
I should have tried to stop it.
But I never have before. What makes me want to save Nina when I haven’t saved so many before?
I look at her long brown hair and her beat-up body. She’s beautiful, even in her current state. But it’s more than just her beauty that attracts me to her. It’s her obsession with me. I’ve never been the center of someone’s world. No one has ever cared about only me ever. Not even my own mother. That must be all it is. The fascination with a woman who is obsessed with me.
She’s not obsessed anymore.
She hates my guts.
I watch as my father walks toward her, and I can’t take it. I don’t know how to stop it, but I can’t let it happen. I can’t let him hurt her.
I grab my father’s shoulder, and I push him against the wall.
“What the fuck are you doing? You’ll have your turn with our slave. Wait, or I’ll make you wait your turn, you asshole,” he says.
I don’t even flinch when he calls me an asshole. He’s called me everything in the book. I’m not a son to him, and I never will be.
He looks at me in disgust. “Get out of here. You don’t have the balls to be half the man that I am.”
He throws me off of him even though I have three times the strength that he does. He’s in control here, not me. He has the power over the men who stand guard and are ready at his beck and call. Not me. I don’t have any power yet. But I will soon enough.
I grab his arm again, stopping him from touching Nina.
“Let go of me now. Or I’ll make you. I’ll whip your ass like when you were a kid, and maybe then, you’ll finally learn some manners.”
I tighten my grip on his arm, still not sure of what my next move will be. All I know is, I won’t let him touch her. He moves to pu
nch me, but I block him, which only makes him angrier.
“Whipping your ass won’t be enough. I’ll lock you in the dungeon, and you’ll never see the light of day again if you keep defying me, boy.”
“I want her. Now. I can’t wait. I want to know what it’s like to fuck a woman who’s broken and beaten. I want the taste of blood in my mouth.”
He stops a second and looks at me, trying to tell if I’m lying or not. “I don’t believe you. You never want their blood unless they willingly give it to you. You’re weak—”
“I want her blood. I want to make this slave pay for what she did.”
He smiles when I use the word slave. “Be my guest then.”
I watch him slowly walk out of the room, leaving her to me. He might not be in the room any longer, but I know he is still watching. The sick fucker has video cameras everywhere so that he can relive his disgusting fantasies, even after the women are long gone.
And watching his son finally become a man in his eyes is going to make my twisted father jack off more times than I want to imagine.
I turn to Nina as she moans quietly to herself on the bed. It’s all she can do. And even her soft moans leave her exhausted.
I walk toward her and pull my knife from my back pocket. I begin slicing the ropes holding her in place. They’re all completely useless anyway. She can’t run; she’s only hours away from dying from her wounds or loss of blood. I’ve never seen my father brutalize a woman like he has Nina. I don’t know what she did to piss him off, but whatever it was, it was personal.
I finish cutting the last rope and watch as her arm falls free to the bed. I want her fingers digging into my back with her sharp nails drawing blood. I want her to use that arm to push and shove and fight with everything that she has to get away from me. I don’t want this emptiness.
She looks up at me like I’m a monster, and I am. Just a different kind than my father.
I take her and flip her over so that she doesn’t have to look me in the eye. And then I climb on top of her.