by Aria Ford
“Piss off, Tyler.” My heart thudded in my chest as Luciano snarled over his shoulder.
The inside of the house whirled past me in a blur of whites and beige, only pausing when Luciano stopped in front of a door at the end of a hallway. We were on the third floor, and I glanced behind me to find a railing instead of a wall. Peeking over the light chestnut banister, my eyes widened at the sheer drop that awaited me. At the bottom was nothing but shiny hardwood; there was nothing to break a fall.
Whimpering as the height made me dizzy, I backed up just as the floor below started to swirl and warp.
“You’re afraid of heights, Aya…” The low rumble almost sounded like a question, and I whirled around to find Luciano towering over me. Nodding hastily, I inched toward him as he glowered. “Right.”
Following Luciano through the open door, my legs weakened at the familiarity that encased me. My body trembled, threatening to drop onto the soft carpet that slipped between my toes. Twisting to shut the barrier behind us, Luciano jerked me roughly in the direction of the bathroom. His grunt echoed around the otherwise silent room, and his fingernails scraped against my skin as his hand fell from my arm.
“Go shower.” Staggering forward, my body was washed in cold as the entire morning hit me. My skin crawled, and I cringed from the sticky layer that coated my thighs and butt. Disgust tightened my lungs, making it hard to breathe.
Glancing down, I couldn’t remember a time when I felt so gross.
Slipping beyond the frosted glass pane that separated the shower from the rest of the bathroom, I shivered violently. Cold water gushed down on me, soaking my hair instantly only to run harsh, raging rivers down my chest and back. Keeping my eyes closed, I reached blindly for the loofah that hung on a hook under the shower head.
Gradually the water warmed, washing the soap from my skin as I scrubbed away the events of the morning. Standing under the pounding spray, I took a shallow, wet breath tinged in lavender. Exhaling slowly, steadily, I groaned softly before forcing my eyes open.
Questions plagued me, but the loudest voice in my head wanted to know why Luciano didn’t just kill me. He didn’t lack chances, but he never took them. It would’ve been so easy to just raise his already loaded, cocked gun at Trevor’s apartment. Instead, he just did nothing.
My unfocused gaze was glued to the wall, and steam swirled around me as I reached to touch the thick, dark bruise on my cheek. Maybe that’s why, and when I’m better- when I had a taste of something good- he’ll kill me.
Jumping into my throat, my heart throbbed and palpitated at that rationale. Memories floated into my mind’s eye of Sylvi, and his words floated into my ears on waves of steam. “If she’s not useful, she doesn’t stay. I’m not running a house for abused women here, Luciano.” Pursing my lips together, I tensed at the quake that lodged between my shoulders. He’d sounded so serious, so annoyed. Even in the heat of my shower my body went a little cold.
And the screaming… Luciano said she got what she deserved for being a whore. My lungs jerked in a hiccup as realization dawned on me.
I was at his mercy; this man that was the opposite of lenient controlled my life, and there was no way I could sway him.
CHAPTER SEVEN
LUCIANO
“You seem to be a bit of a downer this morning, Sylvi.” Standing opposite my brother, I crossed my arms over my chest as Georgio’s stern voice took the room. Carefully concealed annoyance brightened Sylvi’s eyes, and his face twisted into a sneer as he leaned his elbows on his knees. Supported by a low wall that also served as a counter, I tilted my head as he heaved a harsh sigh.
“Yes, well- your escapades are beginning to take their toll on me, Georgio. Normally, I wouldn’t mind, but lately any whores I fuck feel like cold, wet potato sacks.” My eyelid twitched in disgust as Sylvi clasped his hands together, but Georgio hummed as if he knew exactly how his ‘son’ felt. They’d always been open about this kind of thing; as revolting as it was the two had bonded over their enjoyment of hurting women. Hovering up air through my nostrils, I held my breath and hoped to pass out before they went into details.
“I see. I went through that as well, several times. Sometimes, my boy, you need to mix it up a bit. Find a woman that isn’t a whore. There’s nothing more satisfying than destroying a woman with pride, you know.” Glancing at Georgio, my eyes narrowed on the sick smirk that cracked his lips. “Where’s the fun in a woman that doesn’t fight back? I will tell you- it is like your seasons in America. It comes and goes, replenishing itself after taking some time away. Besides, there is always the option of not fucking the same woman you intend to beat.”
I watched the exchange with a twisting gut as Sylvi grunted absently, his head dipping in a nod. The conversation was so serious it was almost comical.
“Yes, I’ve considered that. The time between the two just seems too long. Maybe finding a woman to fuck that also-” Cut off by a soft cough, Sylvi stiffened as my eyes flickered to the patio door. Tyler stood, looking mightily uncomfortable, and a grimace smeared itself across my face when he looked at me.
“Luciano, can I borrow you for a moment?” Pushing myself off the ledge, my legs felt tight as I stepped around a few lounge chairs. The relief I felt at being able to escape this conversation was sharp, and I shot Sylvi a glare as I passed. Shouldering my way past Tyler and into the house, I let go of my filled lungs. Air gushed from my mouth, and behind me a wisp of a laugh sounded before Tyler appeared in my peripheral.
“Sorry to take you from such a lovely conversation, Luciano, but something came up that you would be interested in.” Only offering a grunt, I followed Tyler to the stairs to his little cave of computers with slacked shoulders. “I haven’t brought this up with Sylvi yet-”
“Aya.” Her name tumbled from my mouth, and I clenched my hands into fists at my sides. She’d been here for four days, but Georgio hadn’t discovered her yet. If he had, he never mentioned it, and I wasn’t going to bring it up. A quiet affirmation from the man before me was all I needed to grow tense again.
“Yeah. This literally just came in half an hour ago, and I didn’t see it until now. Apparently Sovich just announced he’s holding auditions for a wife.” Pushing open the door to his office roughly, Tyler dropped into his chair as his terse words rang in my ear. For a moment everything was quiet, my brain not registering his shuffling of papers or the slight squeak of his chair. “I don’t understand why Trevor would’ve had Aya for a year and a half and never touched her. This is literally the only reason I can think of- that he had something to gain by not raping her. If that’s the case, why did we just hear of it now?”
I didn’t answer, couldn’t answer, that rhetorical question as an image of that Red bastard filled my mind’s eye. He was smart and good looking enough to find his own wife; there wasn’t a shortage of women for a man like him. Sylvi and he had the same stature, but what that little bitch lacked was proper ambition. The only reason anyone did anything for him was because his father was a top dog.
“We need to go deeper.” The declaration was guttural as it bubbled up from my throat, and Tyler grunted without looking away from his papers.
“Yeah, that’s my thought as well. I’m not oblivious to the fact that this might be a trap to catch the spies we planted with the Russians, but I honestly don’t think Sovich is sneaky enough to do something like that. Maybe Trevor was two timing us longer than we knew, and Sovich told him something of his plan. If so, I can see someone like him taking a liking to Aya.”
Clenching my teeth hard, I leaned against the desk as my knuckles tingled. Sovich was a fucking coward, riding his father’s dick but having nothing he made himself. Absently my eyes found the smallish screen that showed Aya, and my pupils tightened.
Lately she’d been different since that morning three days ago. She was constantly scared and tense, but there was something in the way she looked at me. I couldn’t place it, and that alone was frustrating. Staring at her as she ate wh
atever I had pulled out of the refrigerator, I had to hold back a growl.
“Neither of them are good enough to plan that far ahead. Sovich is a fucking puppet. Tell the spies to go in deeper. Dig into Aya-” Snatching a random paper from Tyler’s lap, I grabbed a pen and scribbled down what information I knew of her. “Don’t fucking tell Sylvi until after Georgio leaves.”
“Give me some credit here, Luciano. Why do you think I turned Georgio down- the fucking creep.” Grunting, I didn’t wait, and Tyler didn’t say anything more before I left his office. My feet took me to the stairs without my brain having to tell them to.
Pushing open the door Aya hid behind, my hands twitched as I watched her scramble to the head of her bed. My fingers ached to grab her and pull her back, to wrap around her heart shaped face and slender neck. Taking a shallow breath, I shut the door behind me before she appeared to actually notice me. The shirt she wore had ridden up, exposing her legs and the side of her ass as she huddled in a tight ball against the headboard.
Throwing the thoughts away, I stalked over to the side of the bed before opening my mouth.
“Tell me everything you know about what Trevor was doing with the Russians, Aya.” A shudder jerked Aya’s shoulders, her lips pursing together. For only a moment she was silent, frantically organizing her thoughts into two categories- what was relevant and what wasn’t.
“He said… I-… The- there was a man. A man with a m- mustache… and- and a scar on his neck-” Thin, long fingers reached up, shivering, to trail from under her ear to the center of her throat, and Aya gulped hard as my gaze narrowed on the action. “And he said… that- that Trevor was s-stupid for being disloyal… that he betrayed the Italians and he’d never get anywhere with them… But Trevor- he said he had something that they wanted-”
Aya slowed down to breathe, and I flung my hand out to stroke her pale cheek. The effect it had on her was instant, her thick eyelashes fluttering and her head tilting into my touch. I knew she liked it; she was like a cat, almost. Her skin was soft, dotted in tiny, light freckles, but her jaw still wobbled as her voice came rushing back.
“Trevor locked me in the bathroom. He was on the phone and talked about a- a safe. A safe where he kept important stuff. Letters and money and- and…”
“Tell me where the safe is.” In the ensuing silence I pondered these things Aya had revealed. I wasn’t smart; Tyler would have a much easier time doing this than I would. Still, it didn’t take an elevated IQ to realize that not only was Trevor dealing with the Russians, but a third party as well.
“6-… 69…7? 697… I think…” Who the fuck uses a street address to name a hiding spot?
“Tell me more.” Dragging my knuckles down Aya’s jaw, I swiveled my own when her gaze finally met mine.
“There was a woman one time- Trevor had a lot of different women. He was too drunk- he passed out. She took all his money. She- she wanted me to go with her.” Her eyes glazed over, and I paused my petting as she got lost in the past. “She said she worked for a man- he treated them good. He would treat me good, too. That if I ever wanted, I could find her at Soleil du Italia.”
“More.” Murmuring softly, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to break this trance Aya had fallen into. It was the most detailed she’d gotten yet. Soleil du Italia was a mens’ day club, complete with golf courses, restaurants, and very good whores. A woman that worked there wouldn’t pick up johns off the curb.
“When Trevor woke up, he got so mad… so, so mad- and I was the only one there. He hit me so hard he cut my nose, and he- he climbed… on me… and I- I-…b- but-t he said- he said I was lucky- I was lucky I wasn’t his type-” Tapping Aya’s cheek hard, my fingers curled around her face as she jumped. The cloudiness in her gaze vanished, and a frown tugged at my lips when she focused on me again. Harsh breaths tore out of her, her body trembling and legs closed tightly.
“Aya…” My call made her tense, and I leaned over her to get close to her face. The bruise that had marred Aya’s skin was fading; from across the room it was an ugly, yellowish-blue color, and I thumbed her tender flesh. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
She was like a mouse too, and her eyes widened at my demand. For a second, I wondered if this was just what she was like- if she hadn’t actually changed all that much in the past two years. I hope not.
“Are you going to make me scream like that?” Clenching my jaw, my muscles bunched up at the question as Aya closed her eyes. Slipping down, my fingers wrapped around her neck to squeeze weakly. Her breath caught, body stiffening while I watched her face turn a shade redder.
“No.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
AYA
Huddling in the cabinet in the bathroom, I covered my ears with my palms and bit down on the inside of my cheek. The cries had only just started, coming through the walls in short, sharp bursts. They reverberated through the box I holed myself in, and I curled my toes against the softness of the towels as I struggled to breathe. Sweat beaded the nape of my neck, the thin, short hairs there sticking to my skin.
Every night it was the same, and a whimper flew from my clogged throat as a shriek echoed through the house.
“Aya.” Stiffening at the call, my eyelids popped open to stare dazedly into the darkness. My palm was hot and damp when it left my ear, and I pushed open the cabinet door slowly. Pulling myself out, I sat on the floor for a moment to shake my head free of the haze that settled on my brain.
Luciano grabbed my wrist, his hand shooting out of the abyss, and I shivered as his dry, callused palm gyrated against my skin. Pulling me up, he grunted as he pulled me from the bathroom. His heavy steps reverberated up through my feet, but I followed silently anyway.
Soft, yellow light greeted me outside my room, and I blinked at the brightness of it. Luciano’s shadowed form seemed bigger than usual, his back straight and shoulders pushed back. Staring at the muscles that shifted under his skin, I sucked my lips between my teeth as my brows came together.
Maybe he’s not human. I’d never met a man that was so muscular, but as we took the stairs I kept my mouth shut.
We reached the second floor before the screaming started up again, the high, shrill sound shocking me like a bolt of electricity. Stumbling over a step, I tripped over my own leg, and my free hand shot out to brace for my fall. Squeezing my eyelids shut, I held my breath, but the impact never came.
The flesh that coated Luciano’s back was hard and hot under my clammy palm. Muscle rippled against skin, and I opened my eyes even as my blood became cold. Under the soft lamps that illuminated the stairs and hallways his lower back was deeply shadowed. Flexing my fingers against the hard wall of him, I tensed at the tightness that played underneath.
For a long, pregnant moment Luciano didn’t react, didn’t move, before I managed to pull away. Holding my hand to my chest, I took a shallow, shaky breath that was lost amid the cries that emanated from the third floor. Slowly twisting, Luciano’s dark eyes were slits when they met mine.
“Pay attention.” Low, slow, the threat slithered up my arm to settle in my chest, and I could only nod shakily.
Outside the house Luciano’s car was parked, ready and waiting, and my head ached at the onslaught of memories that bombarded me. He didn’t hesitate to yank open the passenger door, shoving me inside with only a glare. Rounding the front, he climbed into the driver’s seat and stuck the key into the ignition before speaking up.
“Don’t fucking piss in my car again.” Blood drained from my face, and I ducked my head in a nod before the large SUV roared to life. Pulling out of the U-turn, Luciano reached to swipe his hand over his head in silence. My mind churned, wanting to know where we were going, but my lips refused to part.
He wouldn’t tell me anyway.
Speeding down the road, I could see the city clearly before us. Street lamps cast a golden glow that reached up the sides of buildings, and red stop lights flickered.
“Tell me about your parents, Aya.” Gruff, Luciano’s demand se
nt a jolt of surprise spearing my chest, and I twisted away from the window to look at him. His face was relaxed, one arm casually hanging from his own open window while the other hung loosely over the wheel. Licking my lips, I picked at my fingernails as memories I hadn’t thought about in a long time came bubbling up.
“My mom was an actress…” Even just those five words were painful to say, and the liquid seeped from my mouth to leave my tongue dry and heavy. “M- my dad used to work in a law firm. They fell in love when he defended her sexual assault allegations.”
Falling silent, I searched for more to say, but nothing came up. In the driver’s seat, Luciano grunted absently, his expression never faltering.
“...I- I mean… I guess it was okay? I don’t know. I remember… they started acting strange. Sometimes, I would be stuck at school for half an hour. They stopped remembering things like parent teacher conferences and school stuff… and- a couple of years later I found them both passed out in the living room. I went home early- it was a half day. I was 15 at the time. It still took me a long time to realize what was happening.”
I could remember that day so faintly it didn’t feel like my memory. Images blossomed in my mind’s eye of opening the front door and finding both my parents unconscious on the couch. There was nothing on the coffee table to suggest drugs, but even then I knew it was worse than simple exhaustion.
A soft chink pulled me from my reverie, and I blinked as Luciano took a deep drag from his cigarette.