Raised For Him

by Farrar, Marissa

  He scowled. “She wasn’t working out anyway. The little bitch hasn’t stopped crying for two weeks.”

  “And she deserved to die because of that?” I couldn’t hide the contempt in my voice.

  Was this to be Catalina’s future? Would she be miserable after she left here? Would she cry every night and then try to escape and end up shot in the back by two men who only saw her as a mild irritation? An iron band wrapped around my chest and squeezed. Even the thought of the possibility of that happening was unbearable.

  I let out a growl and rubbed my hands over my face. I was going to have to let my father know about this, and he wasn’t going to be happy.

  Paul took a couple of steps forward and kicked some dried leaves toward the dead woman. “Don’t worry, we’ll take care of the body.”

  I clenched my jaw. “Good.”

  I couldn’t be here any longer. I couldn’t look at the body of the poor woman whose last few weeks had been nothing but misery and who had died while running for her life.

  My fingers tightened around my gun, and the overwhelming urge to lift the weapon and shoot the two men responsible for killing her swept over me. The gun trembled in my grip, and I had to make a conscious effort not to lift my arm.

  I couldn’t be here anymore, or I’d do something stupid.

  With desolate fury raging inside me, I put my head down and stormed back to the compound.

  Rufus still waited at the gates.

  “Well?” he asked as I stalked by. “What happened?”

  “Girl’s dead. It’s over.”

  Some of the other women had emerged from their rooms and were huddled together with worried expressions. They’d obviously heard the commotion, and most of them had been here long enough to be able to make a good guess as to what had gone down.

  “Get back inside,” I yelled at them. “And stay there.”

  Their eyes widened and they ducked their heads, scurrying back to their individual rooms like frightened animals.

  Catalina stood in the open doorway of the house, wrapped in a robe, her dark hair mussed from sleep. I didn’t want to speak to her, but I needed to get inside and away from everyone else before I did something stupid.

  “Where’s Dani?” she asked as I approached.

  So, word had gotten around quickly enough.

  I brushed past her. I couldn’t even bring myself to look at her. I was filled with shame—shame for what had just happened, and shame for how much I was going to fail Catalina in the coming few days.

  “She didn’t make it.”

  “Oh.”

  I didn’t want to have to explain any more than that. I needed to call my father and tell him what had happened. It was the middle of the night, and I briefly considered waiting until the morning, but decided against it. If one of the other men let him know before I did, it would only look worse.

  Why had Dani chosen tonight to try to escape? Was it because she knew my father wasn’t here? Did the other women look at me as a softer touch than he was? He’d always warned me that being soft would only get me in trouble. He’d done everything he could during my childhood to harden me up, and I guessed it had worked to a certain extent, but I still struggled to switch off my emotions in the same way he did.

  The image of the dead body was painted on the backs of my eyelids, but instead of the girl’s face, it was Catalina’s features I saw, blood running from the corner of her mouth, her eyes wide and unseeing. The young woman couldn’t have been much older than Catalina. Every time I thought of it, I became more and more certain that this would be Catalina’s future, too, after we sent her to Torres. My father had assured me she would be safe and well taken care of, that Torres had paid too much money to allow too much harm to come to her, but if that were true, why did he suddenly feel the need for me to give her this training?

  I experienced a sudden burst of anger toward my father for putting Catalina in this situation in the first place.

  I pushed into my father’s office and took a seat behind his desk. Waves of inferiority swept over me. If he’d been here tonight, instead of me, Dani would still be alive.

  Taking a breath, I picked up the phone and dialed his number. Though it was the early hours of the morning, he answered on the second ring, and his voice sounded alert.

  “Angelo, what’s happened?”

  “The new girl tried to escape. She went over the wall. Bruno shot her.”

  “Shit.”

  “Yeah. The men are taking care of the body.” I didn’t know what else to say.

  “Good. How are the other women taking it?”

  “They seem to be okay. I made them all go back inside.” I cleared my throat. I didn’t want to talk to him about Catalina, but I had to try. “You know, I can’t help worrying that things might go the same way for Catalina once she goes to Torres.”

  His words were curt. “What are you talking about?”

  “What if she’s as unhappy as Dani, and she ends up doing something desperate to free herself from the situation?”

  “Torres has promised to take care of her.”

  “Yes, but we were taking care of Dani. She had a roof over her head, and meals, and she hadn’t even been made to work yet, but that still didn’t stop her trying to escape.”

  “Dani and Catalina are two completely different situations. Catalina grew up knowing what’s expected of her. She’ll adapt far quicker than someone taken off the streets.”

  I couldn’t give up. “Will she? This is the only life she’s ever known, so won’t it be even harder for her to go to something different?”

  He exhaled a heavy sigh down the line. “Angelo, I appreciate what you’re trying to do for her, but the deed is done. She’s paying her mother’s debt. If her mother hadn’t been stupid enough to hide the pregnancy from us all that time, we wouldn’t be in this situation.”

  “No, Catalina wouldn’t be here at all, because you’d have made her mother get rid of the baby.”

  He sounded amused. “True.”

  All the women were put on birth control, but it hadn’t worked in this one case. No one knew who Catalina’s father was. It could be anyone out of dozens of men.

  “It’s not her fault she was born,” I said through gritted teeth.

  “No, but it was her fault her mother died.” His words were cold. Thank God Catalina hadn’t been around to hear him say that, though I wondered how many other times she’d been told the same thing.

  “No, it wasn’t. She was a newborn. She had no control over any of this. It was just bad luck.”

  “Well, whatever it was, her mother died because of it. You know what kind of money the women bring in here, and a woman of her mother’s standard brought in more than most. What we’re receiving for Catalina just about covers that loss.”

  “So the money is more important than her life,” I muttered, knowing I sounded like a petulant child, but unable to stop myself.

  “This is business, Angelo. That’s all. I thought I’d taught you by now not to be emotionally invested in these things.”

  “Fine. I just wanted to let you know what had happened, that’s all.” And without allowing him to get in another word, I ended the call.

  I knew nothing I ever said would change his mind.

  Chapter Ten

  Twelve Years Earlier

  ANGEL TEACHING ME HOW to read had both its good points and its bad points. The good part was that I got to spend time in his company, curled up on his lap while he read to me, or seated at a desk while he painstakingly taught me my ABCs. But the bad part was that reading exposed me to a world I’d never given much thought to before. Before I’d started to read, I was like a caged bird who had been brought up in captivity. I’d never known what it was like outside of my cage, so I hadn’t missed what I hadn’t known. But once I was able to read the stories of other lives, I started to wonder.

  So many of the books were about families, and I began to ask questions about my own.


  “Yolanda,” I asked the older woman one day while she was sitting at the stool of her dressing table where she made up her face, “are you my mommy?”

  She pulled a face I couldn’t quite read and reached a hand out to me. I allowed her to pull me in, and she wrapped her arm around my waist.

  “No, sweetie, I’m not.”

  “So, who is, then? Is it one of the other women?” I screwed up my face as I tried to think about who it might be.

  “Well, your mother was one of us.”

  “She was? What was her name?”

  Yolanda gave that same sad smile. “Her name was Marcella.”

  I wondered what had happened to her. “Did she leave me here?”

  “No, I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m afraid she died when you were only tiny.”

  “Oh.” I blinked back sudden tears for a woman I’d never met. “How did she die?”

  Yolanda hesitated and said, “She was sick, and she didn’t get well again. But she loved you very much. I know she’d be so proud of the wonderful little girl you’ve grown into.”

  A male voice came from outside, and then a bulk of a man filled the open doorway. My heart sank when I saw Bruno. He was my least favorite of all the men who worked here. He never had a kind word to say to anyone. “Tell the kid the truth, Yolanda. She deserves to know what really happened.”

  “Shut up, Bruno!” Yolanda snapped at him.

  ”Don’t speak to me like that, bitch,” he snarled back.

  I stared between Bruno and Yolanda. Tell me the truth? “What does he mean?”

  She gave me a squeeze and widened her eyes at Bruno. “Nothing. He doesn’t mean anything.”

  But Bruno scoffed. “You are the one who killed your mother. You killed her when you were coming out of her. She died before she even got the chance to see you. Marcella was one of the master’s favorites, too. He only kept you as payment for her life.”

  My lower lip trembled, my chin wobbling. I’d killed my own mother? What kind of monster was I?

  Despite knowing this, my small, stupid heart still clung to hope. “What about my dad? I must have had a dad.”

  Bruno snorted. “That could have been anyone. Fuck, it could even be me.” He bellowed laughter.

  He must have seen the horror on my face. I’d rather stay parentless than have Bruno as a father.

  “Don’t worry, kid. None of the possibilities would have wanted you, anyway.”

  I remained silent as the reality of my existence slowly sank in.

  I didn’t have a family. And not only that, I’d killed the mother I had.

  Chapter Eleven

  Present Day

  I’D NEVER SEEN ANGEL like that—his face etched with pain, his dark eyes haunted. He’d always been the relaxed, fun one, the small beam of light in this place. Now it was as though the darkness had ebbed into his soul.

  Women died here. I already knew that. I’d seen it for myself over the years, countless times. Sometimes things went wrong with the men, though the man was always made to pay for what he did to them. Then was never a good time to be living at the compound, but it was just a part of life here. I’d never seen Angel respond to one of their deaths in such a way.

  Maybe it was because he felt responsible.

  Maybe he was.

  I glanced over at the rooms of the other women. Several of their lights were on, but no one made an appearance. Everyone knew it was dangerous to get involved when something like this had happened. Emotions were running high, and a simple question could be rewarded with a slap or worse.

  I slunk back into the moonlight-cast shadows. I would go back to bed, though I doubted sleep would come to me. I imagined both Angel and I would spend a sleepless night, in separate beds, at the farthest corners of the house. Would he think of me at all, or would his thoughts be crowded with the death of the young woman who I had never even spoken to?

  I made my way back to my bedroom, opening and closing the door quietly and crawling back beneath covers that were still warm from where I’d vacated the bed not long ago.

  What was the girl running to that was worth risking her own life for? I’d heard stories from the other women about how things had been for them before they’d been brought to the compound—lives spent on the streets, sleeping in doorways, going days without meals, beaten for the few meagre belongings they had, and sometimes even raped. How could that life be worse than the one they’d been given here? I couldn’t imagine being anywhere else, though that was going to change sooner rather than later.

  I sighed and rolled over, pulling the covers tighter up around my neck.

  What had happened with the new girl had distracted Angelo for the moment from the task his father had left him, but I wondered if he’d had the chance to make a call to any of his friends before tragedy had struck. I still couldn’t believe he was actually going to hand me over to someone else—and not the person I’d been sold to. I understood why he struggled with it, but it was more that he was going against his father’s wishes that surprised me. Angel rarely did anything against his father.

  But then I remembered all the times he’d broken the rules for me when I’d been small. The books he’d steal for me, so we could sit, hidden in a cubby with a flashlight while he read the stories contained within the pages. He’d keep back a piece of cake from dinner and sneak me extra treats. If his father found out he broke the rules, he’d be punished for it, but he did it anyway.

  Could it be that by going against his father’s wishes now, I was getting a glimpse of the boy I’d known back then, even if he wasn’t doing what I would have wanted?

  I sighed again, desperately wishing for sleep, but thoughts of Angel crowded my mind. If only he’d give in and do as his father asked. I might be untouched, but I wasn’t naïve. I’d grown up with the women here. It would have been impossible for me to have not been exposed to what they did for the men. I might not have any practical experience, but I knew what was involved. Why was he so against the idea of teaching me? Did I disgust him, or was it something else?

  My body tightened and tingled at the thought of Angelo being the one to teach me how a man’s body worked. My core clenched, my nipples contracting into buds beneath my t-shirt. I squirmed, squeezing my thighs together. I imagined him kissing me, his perfect lips meeting mine, his hand lacing into my hair. I imagined him telling me that he’d always loved me, and now that love had grown into something more—passion, desire, obsession.

  Was that what I wanted from him?

  Even as I slipped my hand down across my stomach and between my thighs, I questioned myself. There was no point in wanting what I couldn’t have.

  My fingers pushed beneath the waistband of my panties, and I slipped the tips between my folds, skirting over the top of my clit, to dip into wet heat. Pleasure wrapped me in its coils, and I drew some of my own wetness up to my clit, rubbing in slow, languid circles. Thoughts of Angel filled my head, my heart swelling with emotion for him. My stomach muscles and thighs tightened, and I squirmed against the bed. I might never have been touched, but that didn’t mean I didn’t know what it felt like to desire something. Someone. It had only ever been him.

  A girl had died tonight, and I was masturbating over the man who might have caused her death.

  I was messed up, but was that any surprise? It wasn’t as though I’d ever been given the opportunity to have a normal life. Fantasizing about Angel didn’t do any harm. No, it would be whatever decision he made about his father’s instructions that could have the potential to destroy me. Would he bring in someone else, as he’d promised? Though my heart grew heavy in my chest at never getting to touch him like this, a part of me knew it would be the right thing.

  I was frightened that if I got a taste of Angel, then when I was handed over to Elliot Torres, I’d truly know what I was missing out on. Right now, it was all in my head. I couldn’t miss what I’d never experienced. But once I had a taste of his skin, had drowned in his kisses, had listened
to his breathing and watched his face as I pleasured him, I knew leaving would only hurt more. I’d forever compare Torres to Angel—his taste, the noises he made, if he touched me in return. Would Angel’s touch be gentle and cautious, or did he like it rougher? Would he pin me by the throat and shove his hand between my thighs, roughly seeking entry?

  I groaned at the thought, my head twisting against the pillow. My fingers strummed my clit faster, and a gush of liquid soaked my pussy. He might still see me as a child, but I was very much a grown woman now, and I had needs and desires, just like everyone else. He couldn’t bring himself to touch me, even though his father had told him to, but that didn’t change the fact that I wanted him to. Maybe he needed to know that. Perhaps that would make all of this easier. If he knew how much I wanted him, and if I made him see me in a different way, then he would be able to bring himself to do as his father requested.

  My orgasm was almost on me now, winding me into a taut band of energy, ready to snap at any moment. My fingers moved faster, but in my head it was Angel’s hand jammed between my thighs, his hard, lean body pressed against mine. I imagined him kissing me as he brought me to orgasm, holding my body captive, forcing my climax from me against my will.

  “Oh God... Oh, oh...” The cries peeled from my lips as I toppled over the peak, my toes curling under the sheets, my back arching from the bed. But still I came, the grip of pleasure not releasing me yet. “Angel, God, yes, Angel...”

  I was lost in my fantasy, never wanting it to end—

  A knock came at the door, and I gave a start. “Catalina?”

  I gasped and yanked my fingers, wet with my own arousal, out from between my legs.

  The door opened, and light shafted in. Angel was silhouetted in the doorway, like my fantasy had brought him to life. I was able to make out the concern on his handsome features. “Catalina? Are you okay?”

  “Yes,” I blurted, my face burning. “Yes, I’m fine.”

  “I heard noises. I thought you might have been upset by what happened tonight.”