“Do you know what would happen to you if you’d succeeded just now? What did I explain earlier?”
I know what he’s talking about. That if he didn’t do this, didn’t take me, then his brother would or his brother after that.
“Let me go,” I say.
His eyes are dark, black in the light, and I watch as he touches his wound with his fingers before bringing them to my thigh and smearing blood upward, pushing my underwear aside to rub it on my pussy, rub it inside me.
“You’re always wet for me,” he says before switching his grip to the back of my neck and kissing me hard, as hard as he’s rubbing me. He breaks the kiss and watches me, and I hear him undo his jeans. He steps backward and pushed me to my knees.
I know what he wants.
He collects a fistful of my hair and grins. “Open up. I’m going to teach that big mouth a lesson.”
I look up at him, try to pull back, but I can’t.
He draws me up a little, painfully by my hair, and brings his face to mine. “If you bite, I’ll whip you until I open your back, understand?” He squeezes that fistful of hair when I don’t answer. “Do. You. Understand?”
“Yes!”
“That’s a good Willow Girl. Now keep your eyes on mine, and open wide.”
He doesn’t even give me a minute to do it but pinches my nose closed, forcing my mouth open.
His cock is thick, hard, and ready. Precum tastes salty on my tongue as he moves me the way he wants, shallow at first, taking his time, watching me take him.
“First time?”
I don’t say anything. I can’t speak.
“Suck,” he says as he pushes in deeper, and I do. I suck on his cock as he feeds it to me, deeper and deeper, tears forming at the corners of my eyes either from his hand fisting my hair too hard or from being choked on his cock. My voice, any words, are gargled as he hits the back of my throat and holds there for a moment, letting out a deep moan.
I push on his thighs and he pulls out a little, shallow again, pumping in and out slowly, going deeper; then, when I choke, shallow again.
“I like you like this, you know that? On your knees and quiet.” He almost smiles. “Ready?”
Ready? Ready for what?
He forces my head forward, thrusting in to my throat.
I dig my fingers into his thighs and cry out, but the sound is muffled as he fucks my face, watching me as he takes me harder and harder until, finally, he stills inside me.
I feel the first spurt of cum hit the back of my throat and feel it slide down as the next one comes. I watch his face, and I hate that I can’t look away, hate that he’s so beautiful, hate that I want him even when I should hate him.
When he’s emptied, he drops to his knees, breathing hard, smiling a little. He’s still got hold of me, but he’s not hurting anymore.
With his other hand, he pushes the hair that’s stuck to the sheen of sweat on my forehead back.
He just looks at me for a minute before kissing me, kissing my mouth that tastes like him, that’s just had him inside, that’s just swallowed everything he gave me.
And when he slides one hand into my panties and rubs my clit, I kiss him back, and I come. I come on his fingers, in the palm of his hand, and I’m pulling him to me when I should be pushing him away.
Wanting him when I should be hating him.
Chapter Eleven
Sebastian
I’m up earlier than usual the next morning. Helena is fast asleep beside me, her arms hugged into her chest between us, forehead pressed against my shoulder.
It’s funny, no matter how far from me she starts on the bed, every morning it’s the same. She’s curled so tight against me that I’m afraid to wake her when I get up.
She doesn’t budge when I push the hair from her face to look at her. She looks younger than she is when she sleeps. It’s because her face is so relaxed. She’s always on her guard otherwise, and I understand that.
I get up, check my phone for a message I’m expecting. It’s there, but I’m not sure if I’m happy about it or not. It could save Helena, if it comes to that, but it would destroy Ethan in the process.
I type a reply. I’ll meet my contact in his Verona office the following day.
Helena doesn’t move when I slip off the bed to have a shower, but when I come back into the bedroom, she’s sitting up in bed, arms folded, her face like she’s deep in thought. She turns to look at me, and I notice that she doesn’t keep her eyes on mine.
“Good morning,” I say.
“Why were the payments different when my Aunt Helena was the Willow Girl?”
I toss the towel I just used to dry my hair aside and step toward her, take her chin in my hand, and tilt her face up.
“I said good morning.”
She looks at me, her forehead creasing. “Good morning.”
“That’s better. Why don’t you go have a shower and get dressed? You should come downstairs for breakfast. You can’t avoid my family forever.”
“No, thanks. I’ll lose my appetite with Ethan gawking at me.”
“He can’t help how he is, you know that, right?”
“What do you mean?”
“You must have noticed.” Although she’s had such little interaction with him, is it possible she hasn’t?
She shrugs a shoulder. “He seems strange. I just thought he was a jerk.”
“Oh, he is a jerk, but there’s something else. He had an accident when he was fourteen. There was some damage to his brain.”
“Oh.”
I glance away, remembering, but only for a moment. “And Lucinda manipulates him. Teaches him everything he knows.”
“Teaches him to hate me.”
“Not just you. I’m just saying there’s a reason he’s the way he is. And that doesn’t mean you should be alone with him, but just so you understand.”
“It doesn’t matter to me. He’s still my enemy, no matter what. What was the accident?”
I turn away before answering. “A boating trip gone wrong.” I walk into the closet to get dressed, pull on a pair of jeans. I have a T-shirt in my hands when I walk back into the bedroom to find her still on the bed.
She bites her lip. “So what happens when the year is up? I mean, do I just…do you… Do you stay here and I’m with him and…”
The thought of it, of handing her to him, of him touching her, makes my hands fist. Is it just her, or would I feel this way with anyone? I wouldn’t wish my brother on any of the Willow Girls because it’d be handing her to Lucinda and handing her to Lucinda would be like handing her to Satan himself.
“Don’t think about that now, Helena. There’s a full year. A lot can happen.”
“What does that mean?”
I pull my T-shirt on and go into the bathroom to comb my hair, but I’m really just buying time.
“You asked me about the payment when your Aunt Helena was the Willow Girl,” I say, coming back into the bedroom.
She nods, sits up a little taller.
I sit on the edge of the bed. “How much do you know about her time here?”
“Not much. Only that she survived.”
“She was here for two-and-a-half years. Not three.”
“Why?”
“Because she killed the firstborn Scafoni son.”
Helena’s mouth falls open, and her eyes go wide. “What?”
“Smothered him in his sleep.”
“How? I mean, she didn’t say anything about that to me. Are you sure it’s true?”
I nod. “Six months into her ordeal, she killed him, so she was passed on to the second. Then, after a year, to the third. That’s why the discrepancy in payment.”
“I don’t believe you. This makes no sense. She’s not a killer.”
“She probably wouldn’t be under normal circumstances.”
“No. It’s a mistake. It has to be.”
“Funny thing was, his middle finger was missing, and they never found it.”
At that, her eyes grow to twice their size.
“Helena, I’ll admit, the bastard probably deserved what he got, but your aunt wasn’t all there, and definitely not by the end.”
“Did you think about what I asked? If I can call her?”
I get off the bed, walk to the dresser to put on my watch. “You want to ask her about this? Verify I’m not lying? She wouldn’t tell you,” I say, my back to her.
“Maybe because it’s not true. Maybe it was one of his brothers. You’re all ruthless. I don’t see any brotherly love between any of you.”
“Believe what you want. It’s all written down. Recorded.”
“Just because it’s written down doesn’t make it a fact.”
I check my watch. “Go have a shower and come down to breakfast. I’ll be there. You won’t be alone.”
She looks up at me, cocks her head to the side, and gives me a smirk. “Even if you’re there, I’m still alone, Sebastian. More alone than I knew thanks to what I learned yesterday. And with today’s story”—she shakes her head—“if you’re trying to turn me against my family, it won’t work.”
“I’m just telling you the truth. Maybe think about the questions you ask me next time.”
“You’re unbelievable sometimes, you know that?” she says, sliding off the bed. She wraps the blanket around herself and turns to go into the bathroom.
I grab her arm, stop her. “And you wish you hated me for being a Scafoni, but you don’t.”
She tugs to free her arm, but I hold tight.
“Oh, I do hate you, Sebastian. I’ll always hate you.”
I stare at her, and she at me. The next time she tugs, I let her go.
She disappears into the bathroom and locks the door. That’s why she showers here. The lock. It’s probably why she sleeps in my bed.
Better the devil you know.
Chapter Twelve
Helena
I don’t go downstairs to breakfast. I don’t go for lunch either. I only make my way down when I’m too hungry to stay in my room.
I know Sebastian won’t send food up. I also know he’s right, that I have to face them sometime, but I’ll put it off as long as possible.
The evening is cool and I wrap a sweater around myself. I’m the last to arrive. By the time I get out to the patio, the family is gathered around the table, Lucinda and Ethan drinking martinis, and Gregory and Sebastian, whiskey.
Two places are set for dinner, one in front of Sebastian and the other, Gregory, and Lucinda and Ethan are dressed in fancy evening wear. Maybe it’s my lucky night and they’re going out.
Sebastian is either bored or irritated. I can see it on his face, in his posture. He sits opposite Lucinda, who has her back to me. He’s leaning in his chair, head resting against the back, looking daggers at her until he sees me.
He shifts his gaze to me. I still can’t read him, but I can’t look away either. He does something to me. It’s like when he’s in a room, it’s just him and me and every hair on my body stands on end. I don’t know. It’s like he steals the air out of my lungs.
I know the others feel this strange charge between us. They have to. And I can see from my periphery Ethan turning his head from me to Sebastian and back.
I told Sebastian that I hated him, and on some level, I do because he is my enemy. But I also know he is the one thing standing between me and the rest of them. I know they won’t touch me as long as I have his protection.
It’s not just that, though. I’m drawn to him. I want him. I want his hands on me. I want him inside me.
But the scariest part is that I want his arms around me when I sleep.
Lucinda slowly cranes her neck, and I clear my throat. The silence has become awkward.
“A drink?” I say.
Sebastian points to the long buffet table at the side where various drinks are laid out. I see a pitcher of martinis. I go to pour myself one, but a girl steps forward to do it for me. I watch her put three olives in a martini glass and pour the clear liquid. She hands it to me, and I sip. I feel it instantly, like the vodka is physically creeping down my shoulders.
I remember how Amy, the youngest of us, and I would sneak vodka when we could. Drink a little of it.
We started doing it the night my mother caught me with the boy when my father whipped me with his belt until I couldn’t move anymore.
I still feel the shame of that night. The humiliation.
She had my sisters watch. A family punishment, after a proper family dinner. She had me strip naked from the waist down and bend over the recently cleared dinner table while they all watched.
At least she sent the maids out of the room.
When my father had thought I’d had enough, she ordered him to go on until welts covered me from the backs of my knees to the whole of my buttocks. A lesson for my sister’s to learn what would happen should they try the same.
I think the Scafoni family is sick, but we’re sick too, us Willows.
Amy’s the only one of my sisters that I miss.
“You should teach your little pet to address us respectfully,” Lucinda says, drawing me back into the present.
“I’ll teach my pet to do as I like, not as you like.”
I pick up a breadstick and turn, leaning my back against the buffet, crunching the breadstick and watching them silently, washing it down with my martini. I should take it easy. I haven’t eaten all day.
It’s breezy tonight, and Sebastian favors me in dresses apparently because that’s about ninety percent of my wardrobe. I’m grateful the sleeves of my sweater are long, long enough I can hold them in my palms.
I lay one arm across my belly and just watch them while helping myself to a second breadstick.
Sebastian has turned his gaze back to Lucinda, and I guess they’re having a staring contest that she’s losing. I turn the bone ring in my hand, knowing now whose bone it is, feeling a surge of power run through me at the thought.
It’s my secret. Just mine. I have a piece of them. My aunt took the finger of her Scafoni bastard, took the bone from it, and made it into an ornament for herself. A skull she hung around her neck like a token of her victory.
Her notch.
How fitting, the skull.
God, I want to laugh. I want to laugh out loud.
“Your aunt wasn’t all there, and definitely not by the end.”
Hell, maybe I’m not all there either because since I’ve come to this place, I feel insane.
Sebastian turns to me. He unceremoniously shoves out the chair beside his with his foot.
“Sit.”
I guess those daggers are turned on me now. I walk obediently to the table and sit.
The girl I recognize from the few times she’s been up to my room quickly sets a place before me.
“I’m hungry,” Sebastian says. He’s resumed his stare down of Lucinda.
She swallows the last of her drink and rises. Ethan follows her lead, and for the first time, I see the hesitation on his face and what Sebastian said makes sense. He’s not all there. I’m curious what happened, what this accident was.
I glance at Sebastian. He’s watching Ethan too, and I swear I see something like remorse there. But it’s gone the instant Lucinda speaks.
“We’ll be on our way, then. Don’t want to keep you from your dinner.”
She gives me a pointed look before she turns, and Ethan follows on her heels.
A few minutes later, I hear the engine of the boat just as a bottle of wine is opened and dinner is served, a steak for each of the brothers with a side of potatoes and roasted vegetables, and for me, the same, but instead of a beef steak, mine is a vegetarian version.
“Thank you,” I say to the girl.
Sebastian and Gregory pick up their forks and cut into the meat. I start with a bite of potato. When I put the second bite into my mouth, Sebastian sits back and chews his, watching me.
He’s in a mood.
“I want you down
for every meal from now on.”
“I don’t eat breakfast,” I say, knowing it’s a weak excuse.
“Well, you’ll start. Especially since we’ve taken into consideration your diet, and the cook is preparing special meals for you.”
“Why are you taking it into consideration?”
“Christ. Can you ever just be grateful and move on?”
He’s right on this one. I know it. “I am grateful. Thank you. It was just a question.”
“Nothing is just a question with you. Eat. I don’t want you too skinny.”
“Not enough flesh to whip?”
“Something like that.”
We glare at each other for a full minute until I can’t anymore and do as he says. I eat. I’m starving, and the food is good.
I study Gregory while I work my way through my plate. He and Sebastian share similarities in features and, more so, mannerisms, and I can’t help but watch them. They’re not big on talking, so we eat mostly in silence.
“Were you both here when my Aunt Libby was the Willow Girl?”
They both look at me, and it’s Sebastian who answers a moment later. “Yes, over the summers.”
“What was she like?” They seem surprised by my question, and I clarify. “I was only five when she came home. I never really got to know her.”
“She wasn’t like you,” Sebastian says.
“What does that mean?”
He continues like I haven’t spoken at all. “Although by the time I met her, she’d spent six months on the island, so maybe she was like you in the beginning.”
“Was it Lucinda who beat the marks into her back or was it your father?”
Gregory puts the last of his steak into his mouth, as if what I just asked was completely normal. All the while he’s studying me, his eyes unreadable.
Sebastian wipes his mouth and puts his napkin on the table, finished with his meal.
“I saw them once,” I say. “I still remember them. I thought they were tattoos. I had no idea.”
“My father suffered after my mother’s death. I don’t know that he ever got over it. In a way, your aunt became a friend to him, and more,” Sebastian says. “Lucinda hated her for that.”
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