by J. L. Beck
Nic
I can smell her as I enter my security control room the next day. Since I set up the video camera in her cell, I’ve banned my usual security from entering. I don’t want anyone to see her without my permission.
Soo sits in front of the control panel, his long legs propped up on the countertop.
“So, what now?” he asks. He’s changed out of the blood-splattered clothing from last night. But he likely stayed the entire time, not sleeping, so he can monitor the situation.
I don’t bother asking if he witnessed what happened between us in her room. I know he no doubt watched it unfold on the screens. Not that it matters. I have nothing to hide, and Soo’s opinion on what I do to the woman doesn’t matter to me. I shrug and watch her on the monitor. She sits on the mattress, clutching the remnants of her silk slip against her bare breasts. There is no sound but the way her shoulders heave forward, she must be crying again.
I take a moment to watch her, trying to figure out what could be going on in her brain. Crying won’t get her out of that room, it won’t keep me from selling her, and it certainly won’t keep me from touching her again. Even now, my cock is a steel rod against my thigh. Another thing to deal with later.
Soo lingers behind me, and I spin in the chair to face him. “If you have something to say, then say it.”
There are no secrets between us, and he knows my moods can be volatile. It takes him a full minute to form his thoughts and say what’s on his mind.
“Are you sure this is the best way to get your revenge? Selling a little girl for profit?”
My anger rises, but I let it simmer, tucked tight in my gut. He doesn’t deserve my ire for asking a simple question. “One, she is no girl. Two, technically, she has already been sold off. Or do you think what her father was doing with that Gardello idiot is any different?”
He snorts. “Fair point, but I fear this will backfire, regardless.”
My eyes narrow to slits, and I turn to face the monitors again. “Noted.”
While I watch her, he slinks out of the room silently, only the shift in the air, letting me know he’s left. On the screen, she huddles into herself and continues crying, tucking that proud chin into the top of her knees to hide her face.
Since nothing is happening in the room, I queue up the past twenty-four hours of her sitting in the cell. More out of habit than actual interest. I instructed my guys not to go in unless they were feeding her.
Most of the feeds show her crying and attempting to cover herself. She spends a good chunk of time looking for a way to escape. Jokes on her. I designed the room myself, and the only way out is the same way in.
I fast-forward the recording until something catches my eye. She speaks to one of my guys, grabbing his arm.
It’s not her clumsy attempt at the coercion of my guy, but the lingering look he gives her as she throws herself back on the mattress. It’s common knowledge that her father treated his daughters as little more than chattel. At the very least, she lacks the ability to threaten the way her father did.
I sit back in the chair and wait to see if she will try seduction next. As it stands, I owe the guard a fucking head busting for looking at my prisoner the way he did. Like a man starved for something more.
The guard places a tray on the floor by her bed, still eyeing her in a way that makes my lip curl, and then exits the room. I’m almost disappointed. She didn’t try to use her wiles to sway him. Interesting. She may be a Ricci, but she doesn’t know how to use her beauty as an advantage, unlike her father, who did in his younger years. There was even talk he screwed men when he needed to get what he wanted. It must have worked, or he wouldn’t have built his empire to where it stands today.
I drudge up the guard’s name in my memory and shoot Soo a text to find him and bring him to me so we can have a conversation.
The rest of the footage is minimal. Her nibbling on some food, using the small toilet built into the corner, and then curling up on the mattress. She remains still until the monitor beep, and then I’m back in real-time.
I barely have time to come up with a punishment for the guard when her eyes jerk toward the door. The camera angle is diagonally across the room, so I can only see the top of the door cut across the lens. Her eyes fly wide open with panic, and I wonder what the hell is going on. That is until I see my younger brother. Lucas’s broad tattooed shoulders come into view as he looms over her.
Well, fuck.
I rush out of the chair and down the long hallway. The scent of disinfectant and bleach burns my nostrils as I make it to the door and hover in the frame. I pause and listen. I’m not here to rescue her, but to ensure my brother doesn’t hurt her in a way that will cost me my revenge.
Her soft sobs reach the hallway, and I poke my head inside and spot Lucas crowding her. At this angle, all I see is his broad tattooed back and his disheveled blonde hair at the crown of his head. Would she fight him? I watch them both, curious how much spirit I have to strip from her by the time our acquaintance ends. The more, the better, I suppose.
By the time the auction occurs, she will walk through fire for me and thank me afterward.
5
Celia
“Do you even know what your family has done? I guess the better question is, do you even care?” The man’s voice is pitched low, deadly, dangerous.
A shiver runs down my spine but doesn’t leave my body. It is as if a permanent chill is settling deep into my bones. One I’m not sure I’ll ever be rid of.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I tell him, realizing that even my voice is shaky.
The man charges forward until his boots almost rest against the edge of the mattress. Scooting away as far as I can, I back up until my skin kisses the cold concrete behind me. I cower in the corner again like a trapped animal because that is exactly what I am. A tiny mouse caught in a trap.
“You’re part of that disgusting family. The only one with decency was your sister, who knew when it was her time to die.
I flinch at the mention of my sister, and a whimper escapes my lips, even though I try my hardest not to let my fear show.
The man drops to his knees on the mattress, his weight pressing it down enough that I jostle away from the wall just to realize there is nowhere else to go and scramble back to it.
The man’s gaze bores through me. “I should kill you right now. Slit your throat and send your body back to your daddy,” he spits. The venom in his voice tells me he means every word. He wants to hurt me, kill me in the most painful way he can think of.
My heart is beating a million miles per hour while panic has an invisible grip around my throat, making it hard to breathe.
I shake my head again, not looking up. “I haven’t done anything. I volunteer at the soup kitchen. I take my mother shopping—”
“With money earned off the backs of others. Blood-stained bills running red with the blood of your father’s enemies. You use it to buy your shoes, style your hair, it’s all over you, whether or not you like it. Even this…”
Before I can think about fighting, he grabs a fistful of my already ripped nightgown and tears it off my body completely. Turning my face toward the wall until my cheek rests against it, I tuck my hands around my breasts.
“You don’t deserve clothes. You don’t deserve anything besides pain, humiliation, and death.”
I’ve never felt so vulnerable, so exposed, and even my drawn-up knees cover little of my body. He doesn’t reach out to touch me, but something tells me he wants to.
When I glance over at him, I find him with his hands clenched at his sides, the silk of my nightgown balled into one of his fists.
“What should I do with you, whore? What would hurt you the most? Maybe I’ll gather all the men I can find and let them each have a turn.”
Biting the inside of my cheek, I swallow the fear threatening to eat me alive. I’m able to hide the sob, but not the tears as they slip from my eyes and run down my cheeks
. The bed moves, and I blink my eyes open just in time to see the man leaning in. His hot tongue laps against my cheek, and I flinch as he runs it over the tracks of my tears, licking up the moisture. Distress signals go off in my mind, blinking like a red neon sign.
My hands move before my mind catches up, and I push him away with all the strength I can muster. He captures my hands with ease, shoving them beside my head, banding them tight against the concrete wall.
“You disgust me,” he growls into my face.
I try to pry my wrists from his grasp, but I might as well be fighting a bear. I quickly give up struggling, especially when I notice the bulge in his pants.
Of course, this display of power turns him on. I hate how helpless I am right now and clench my teeth, gathering my wits to spit something hateful at him.
It will be worth it, even if he slaps me.
“If I’m so disgusting to you, then why is your hard dick in my face right now?”
He shuffles forward on the mattress, pressing against me now, so his zipper is practically in my face. “Maybe because the idea of putting a bullet in your brain turns me on. It’s not your body that turns me on or your innocent look. I’m not interested in all that pretty white skin. I want your blood on my hands and your brains at my feet.”
I recoil from his grasp, wanting to scream, to fight, but knowing that I can’t. This man won’t hesitate to snap my neck. It’s best to be docile and hope for the best. When he finally shoves me away, I gather myself into a ball against the seams of the wall to make myself appear harmless and less noticeable.
The man pushes himself to stand on the mattress, hovering over me. “You know your father once killed a toddler. An innocent child whose only crime was being born to the wrong family. I saw the body, the life drained from its eyes.”
No, no, no! I shake my head. My father would never. Yes, he is a bad man, who is heartless, but to kill an innocent child? He would do no such thing.
I press my hands to my ears and ignore his voice, ignore what he is saying, because it’s not true. My father wouldn’t harm an innocent child, would he?
“And what do you think happened to your sweet older sister, whose only crime was to defy him?”
My eyes go wide as I stare up at him, and my hands slide away from my ears. “Don’t you dare talk about my sister!”
“Don’t worry, there are plenty more dead bodies at your father’s feet. Hundreds, men, women, children, entire families slaughtered at your father’s whims. You’re going to pay for all of it. We will use you, break you, sell you so you can become the whore you were always meant to be. Blood for blood,” he sneers.
My hand moves without permission, and I don’t even think of the consequences or how badly this could be for me when I lash out and land a slap across his cheek. Not until a second after the hit when his rage-filled eyes zero in on me. His nostrils flare as he breathes through his nose, and his lips curl into a cruel snarl.
In that second, I realize the mistake I’ve made and that I may not make it out of this cell alive.
6
Nic
Lucas didn’t realize he touched a nerve, his thoughts so deep in his own internal battles. I, on the other hand, knew she was going to slap him before she even did.
As far as blows go, Lucas has seen much worse, but I know this has nothing to do with his pain and everything to do with his pride. Even if I don’t want to, I know that I have to intervene. If only to keep my new property from damage.
I make my presence known and stalk into the cell, grabbing his arm before he causes any damage. Celia’s wide eyes find mine, and for a moment, I can see the gratitude in them. Before I can digest how that makes me feel, I tighten my grip on my brother and shove him away from the bed.
Like a bull seeing red, he struggles until I close the door to her room, and he can no longer see her. Then his gray eyes clash with my own, and he huffs out a breath. I can see the hate—the pain and rage burning in his eyes. It’s suffocating and reminds me that Luca has had a much harder time handling what happened than I have.
“Feel better?” I ask.
He shakes his head, turns to the wall, and punches it. Violence. It’s his vice. When he faces me again, some of his anger has dissipated. Lucas and I have had a strained relationship for years. Our parents were killed when we were young. It was my job to protect him, and I failed. He fell into the same life I did. Not that I expected him to go off to college and get some kind of fucking degree. But I didn’t expect him to turn in on himself so much, to become a different person.
I wait for him to speak, but he simply stares at me, daring me to challenge him about his treatment of her. He didn’t hurt her, not physically at least, and I don’t give a fuck what he says to her. But I can’t have him hurting her, not when I need her looking fresh and pretty for my clients.
“You good now?” I ask him again.
His only response is to glare at me, then he turns and stalks down the hallway toward the garage. When he reaches the end of the hall, he turns and says, “You can’t protect her every second of the day. Eventually, I’ll get her alone, and all I need is one second…”
A minute passes, and I hear the roar of his motorcycle before I see him peel away on it, still shirtless, still angry by the set of his shoulders as he leaves.
With him gone, I relax and stare at the door. My brother took her slip with him, leaving her with nothing to wear. Not that I mind looking at all her creamy skin, but I don’t want my men’s eyes on her.
In fact, I think I like her better like this. Naked and weak. A so-called innocent princess trapped in a cage. I consider my brother’s parting threat and her holding cell. Shit. I need to move her to a more secure location where, if necessary, I can hear her screams. I don’t doubt if my brother approached her again, she would need me to come to her rescue.
I shove the door open, and my gaze immediately falls on her. She’s slumped in the corner of the mattress, her face and neck pink from crying. Her dark hair hangs down around her cheeks like she’s made no effort at all to recover from her meltdown.
“He’s gone,” I tell her.
She glares at me, and I return the look with a smile. Then I unbutton my dress shirt. Her eyes grow wider the further down I go. I can’t imagine what she is thinking right now. Actually, I can. She thinks the worst of me, but she has no idea how much worse this is going to get.
When I jerk the shirttails from my pants, she flinches, and excitement rushes through my veins. The way her fear turns me on is sickening, but I came to terms with my tainted mind a long time ago, so there is no shame.
I drag it off my arms, cross the room, and hold it out to her.
She doesn’t move from her huddled position, and I huff with annoyance.
“If you don’t take it, I’m going to change my mind. Then you’ll stay naked until your new owner decides what to put you in.”
Her gaze shifts from my hand to my eyes, waiting for a trick, no doubt. I toss the shirt beside her on the mattress and watch as she quickly grabs it and drags it around her body, her fingers slipping as she buttons it up in the front. Of course, the material is comically large on her small body, but I can still see the rosy tips of her nipples underneath.
For some reason, it satisfies me, seeing her in my clothing. Her hair is still tucked under the collar, and the ends of my shirt skim her thighs.
“Why is he like that?” she whispers.
I stare down at her, any warmth in my tone dissipating. “It’s none of your goddamned business. If you see him again, don’t engage. Don’t speak to him, don’t look at him, don’t enrage him. Pretend as if you don’t exist, and you might make it out of this alive.”
“He wants to kill me. Because of something my father has done to him?” It’s both a question and statement.
“Yes.” That’s the short version.
“Do you want to kill me?”
I crouch down, putting myself at eye level with her. “I thou
ght I made myself clear. I don’t want to kill you, not when leaving you alive will be so much sweeter.” I keep her gaze locked with mine and continue, “But don’t think I won’t put a bullet in your brain if necessary. I’m not a nice man. This isn’t a fairy tale. No one is coming to save you. The sooner you realize that the easier things will be for you.”
Her lips wobble once… twice… then she nods slowly.
“Good girl.” I grab her by the arm and drag her to her feet. She shivers in my hold and closes her eyes like she is trying to escape me.
“None of that.” I shake her to force her focus back to my eyes. “I’m taking you to another room as a precaution for now. Don’t get too comfortable. The second you step out of line, you’ll be back down here, naked and alone. Are we clear?”
She nods frantically, no longer trying to dislodge my grip on her bicep.
“Great.” I let go of her, and she flops back to the mattress like a rag doll. Only when I move to leave the room does she get back on her feet.
I lead her out into the hall and up the staircase at the opposite end from the garage. She stumbles along beside me, her feet barely on the ground as we walk.
Once we reach the second-floor bedrooms, I shove one open and toss her inside a guest room I allow the women I occasionally see to sleep in. With a few steps, she rights herself, hugging the shirt tight around her. I follow her into the room, richly furnished in shades of navy and gray.
She peers at her surroundings wide-eyed, and then whispers, “Thank you.”
I surge toward her and drag her back into me. “No. Don’t thank me. This is only until the auction. Then you’re some other assholes’ problem, and they might not be as accommodating as I am.”
Back to glaring, I cup her around her waist tighter, setting her off balance in my grip. “I’m going to wipe that fucking glare off your face. When I’m through with you, you’ll be broken and begging for me to take you any way I want.”