by J. L. Beck
My hand is on the brass door knob when I hear heavy footsteps behind me.
No, no, no! Treacherous tears run down my face, staining my cheeks. I try to wipe them away, but it’s already too late.
“Where do you think you are going?” my father’s voice booms, igniting fear deep in my belly. I hate my father...I know this to be true.
“Just outside,” I say, trying to keep my voice even. Maybe if I make myself seem less conspicuous, he will ignore me.
I pull the door open and sprint outside…or try to. My father’s hand is already on my neck, jerking me backward before I can take a second step.
He twists my body around so he can look down at me. His grip is harsh, and I try to stop from shaking.
“Are you fucking crying?” His eyes are daggers glaring down at me, and his fingers dig into my arms with bruising force. “And now you are trying to run from me with the proof of your indiscretion staining your cheeks?”
I don’t get a chance to answer—not like there’s anything I could say to make this better. I’ve learned to take the beatings and lick your wounds when done. The less fear you show, the less he beats you. That’s what Xander tells me.
My father’s fist hits my jaw, causing my head to snap to the side. I would have fallen to the floor if he didn’t have an iron grip on my arm. Three or four hits follow…I lose count. If he let me go right now, I’d stay down on the floor. I’d give in, letting him win.
I’m halfway passed out, the pain overtaking me, when he shakes me awake.
“Don’t you fucking pass out, you little shit. I’m not done teaching you a lesson. You take your fucking beating and learn something from it. Clearly, I need to teach you in other ways.” His heated breath fans my face, smelling of whiskey. Has he been drinking? He beats us so much when he drinks.
He yanks me to the side and places my hand between the door frame and the heavy iron door. “You want a real reason to cry, then I’m going to give you one.” I shake my head and try to pull my hand away, but he is so much stronger than I am.
He always is.
He swings the door open, and I squeeze my eyes shut, waiting for it to crush my hand. Then I hear heavy footfalls and open my eyes.
“No!” Xander cries, and my father releases my hand. I watch with wide eyes as Xander tries to tackle him. Xander is only fourteen, but he’s big for his age, and my father can’t push him around like he used to. But Xander isn’t big enough to overtake father yet, so instead of proving a point to Father, he ends up below him, our father’s huge body crushing his.
“Xander,” I yell, wanting to save him the way he saved me.
I see him mouth the word “run,” and as badly as I want to stay and help, I know when my brother tells me to do something I should do it.
“You’re no better than him, Xander. Two fucking weak, pitiful excuses for men.” My father’s voice carries, following me as I climb the stairs to my room, locking the door. Tears slip down my cheeks.
I wish I was stronger. I wish I could protect us like Momma did.
But Momma’s gone. It’s just Xander and I.
Xander’s voice drags me back to reality, pulling me from the horrendous nightmare.
“Our uncles will be pleased to know you actually showed up tonight.”
I roll my eyes. “Oh, I’m sure they will be.”
Out the corner of my eye, I watch Keira’s face absorb all she’s seeing. The paintings, the marble floor, the high ceilings, the chandelier, the glitz and glam—the part of my life she’s never seen.
I keep a tight grip on her arm and pull her closer to my body. She nearly trips over her own feet, a gasp escaping her lips, but rights herself before doing so. Her heels clack against the flooring, echoing throughout the space. We walk through the foyer and straight into the open kitchen that leads to the garden.
The place is lit up, just as it was when we were kids.
I hear voices, two of which I know, and a few others I don’t.
When we enter the room, the voices dwindle to nothing more than breath. All eyes move to Keira and watch as a soft blush creeps up her cheeks. She has no idea how beautiful she looks tonight. And she has no clue how much these evil fucking men are going to want her by the time the night is over.
“Damon.” Uncle Dom, the man I’m partially named after, breaks the silence first. As he pushes from his chair to stand, the wood scrapes against the floor, causing Keira to jump. I ignore her tells and focus on the task at hand.
Dom’s face is worn, a permanent expression of tired. When he smiles, it seems unnatural.
“Uncle Dom.” I force a smile, letting him hug me.
He pulls back and directs his attention to Keira. His eyes reflect hunger for something other than food as he drinks her in. The gun digging into my back reminds me I could easily shoot each and every one of these fucks in the head…just for looking at her.
But I don’t…I won’t…at least not yet.
“And you must be Keira.”
She nods, nibbling on her bottom lip. She averts her eyes to the floor as if she’s submissive.
“All this trouble over such a small little thing.” Dom shakes his head, as if he doesn’t understand.
Well, he would, if he had a fucking heart.
“Yes, Uncle. All this trouble over Damon refusing to let go of something he doesn’t actually own.”
I clench my jaw. Dom must sense my hostility because a burst of laughter erupts from his throat as he slaps a hand on my back.
“Now, now, boys. You can always share her. Hell, I remember a time when you shared everything. I’m sure she could survive at least one session with the two of you before you’d have to kill her.” I feel sick to my stomach, and I can practically see the horror appearing on Keira’s face. Now, she’s going to freak the fuck out and worry about me sharing her with my brother.
She visibly shies away. Seeing her like this is worse than getting punched in the face. I look at her, hoping she remembers everything I’ve told her, willing her to trust the promises I made this morning instead of believing the words I speak now.
I direct my attention to Xander. “Times of sharing my toys with you are over. You’ve broken them one too many times.”
Memories of the last woman we shared come to mind.
“Please, no. Please, stop…” she screamed, her eyes pleading with Xander, begging for him to stop.
All I did was stand there, swirling the whiskey in my glass, having already gotten my fill of her. I can still remember the sound of her shriek as he fucked her face and placed the barrel of his gun beside her head, warning if she pulled away, she was as good as dead.
What she didn’t know was that no matter what, she was dead.
Humans are disposable in my brother’s eyes. The way he’s watching Keira tonight reminds me of the way he watched that woman—predatory, with a purpose.
The woman’s blood will forever coat my hands and my black soul. There’s no way in hell I’ll make that same mistake twice.
No. Keira’s blood would never coat my hands.
“I can always get you a new toy if I break this one by accident,” he boasts, smiling at Keira. “Though, it would be a shame to break something so fragile. She really is far too pretty to break so soon.”
I watch her shudder, and I want nothing more than to wipe that smile off Xander’s face with my fist.
“All right then, let’s sit down for dinner and we can discuss the technicalities. There is no need to fight over pussy, no matter how good it is. There are plenty more women for the two of you to select from.” Uncle Dom chuckles, like he’s enjoying our little bickering match. He motions for us to follow, and we all walk into the dining room.
I have half a mind to tell Dom Keira’s pussy feels like no other, but that isn’t any of his damn business—none of it is anyone’s business.
My other uncle, Vincent, is already seated at the table, a drink in his hand and an annoyed expression on his face. “Lo
ok who made it. I didn’t think you would actually show. What’s it been? Three years?”
Unlike Xander and Dom, he pays no attention to Keira. In fact, he ignores her, acting like she isn’t even there—and that’s perfectly fine with me.
“Hello, Uncle Vincent.” My greeting sounds like a chore. This entire fucking event is a headache.
I make Keira sit on my right while Xander takes the seat beside me. My Uncle Dom sits across from us and beside Vincent. The table is set, looking like we’re about to have a Thanksgiving feast. When Xander sets up dinner, it’s a fucking party—an extravagant event and nothing less. I watch as some of Xander’s men meander around the room, standing guard. The thought of my brother needing a guard makes me laugh.
The bastard could kill all these fucking people with his bare hands. He doesn’t need a bodyguard, but the fact that he feels the need to have one is amusing.
Keira fidgets in her seat. I want to tell her to hide her fear from these men, that they will do nothing more than eat it up—but I don’t. Warning her of anything that is to come is a slippery slope and will only be seen as a weakness.
“Bridget!” Xander yells, and a staff member scurries into the room. “Get my brother and the girl whatever they would like to drink.”
Bridget’s fearful gaze moves to Keira and I.
“She’ll have a water, and I’ll take a whiskey.” I save my pleasantries for another time. She’s not expecting a please and thank you, I guarantee it.
Bridget runs back to the kitchen, bringing the attention back to us.
“Oh, come on, brother. Can’t the girl have some wine?”
“Nope. I want her coherent when I fuck her later.” I don’t miss a beat, and Xander chuckles.
Our drinks appear moments later, and I keep my gaze anywhere but on Keira. Tonight is going to be hard for her. I may have to do some things I’m not proud of, but I’m certain she’ll leave here in one piece.
I take the glass of whiskey and down half. I don’t even feel the burn as the brown liquid slides down my throat with ease. Fuck, I’m going to need a lot more of it if I plan to get through the rest of the night still sane.
The salads arrive, and we start eating. Tension hangs thick in the air like a fog. I keep peeking at Keira, but avoid eye contact. Her hands are shaking so much, I worry she might drop the salad fork. Before I reach out to steady her with a calming hand, my brother clears his throat.
“So, let’s start talking business,” Xander announces, setting his empty whiskey glass on the table. My uncles nod in agreement, dabbing at their mouths with their napkins.
“What business is there to discuss?” My gaze stays trained on the remaining amber in my glass. I try to sound aloof.
“Keira is rightfully mine. Her brother worked for me, then betrayed me. He stole a lot of money from me. Just before I slit his throat, he said he couldn’t pay me back, but that I could have everything he owned, and clearly, that includes her.” He points the salad fork at Keira, and I have to bite my tongue before I tell him to fuck off. Sparring with my brother isn’t going to make this conversation smoother.
“I have to say, killing him was fun, though. I tortured him for a while to make sure he was telling me the truth—though, I suppose anyone will say what you want them to when they’re staring down death.” Xander keeps staring at Kiera.
I know what he’s trying to do, and I hope Keira isn’t falling for it. Playing into my brother’s hands does nothing but feed the monster.
“He cried when I cut some flesh out of his leg. He begged me to stop over and over and over. Those are the most fun, you know—when they beg for the pain to stop. Personally, though, I loved it when he promised me your virginity. That was the best part—like he expected your frail, virgin body to pay for his debts.”
I’m about to interject when I catch Keira’s movement out the corner of my eye. She grabs the knife and lunges at Xander, her beautiful face wearing a mask of fury. Xander remains seated. His sadistic smile tells me he knows he’s proved his point.
I only have a split second to decide what to do, knowing neither one of my choices is going to be pleasant. I grab her wrist first, slamming her hand on the table, making her drop the knife. She whimpers, her eyes attempting to meet mine.
I don’t know why she’s crying. She knows what’s coming.
She should’ve listened to me. Fucking Christ.
My uncles are laughing like they’re watching some comedian on a stage, but I know none of this is a laughing matter. Keira played right into my brother’s hand, and now I’m left with no choice in the matter.
Now I have to show them I have her under control. I have to hurt her.
I grab the knife she dropped and force her hand flat onto the table. She struggles in my grip, but there’s no fighting my hold. I tighten my hand over her wrist, watching as pain contorts her features. “You really shouldn’t have done that.”
I hoist the knife in the air and bring it down to stab her hand. I use such force, the tip of the knife embeds into the wood of the table between the knuckles of her index and middle finger.
“Next time, you’ll lose a finger,” I warn, releasing her wrist as I push her to the floor behind me. I don’t dare look at her face. If I see her tears or even fear, my mask will crumble to the ground, giving us both away.
I take my seat, keeping my back to her. “You are done eating with us. Go upstairs to one of the bedrooms and wait for me, naked and on your knees.”
I clench my jaw, and when I hear her soft footsteps leave the room, I damn near exhale in relief. She’s gone. She’s safe. For now. My brother has the biggest fucking grin on his face, and I decide right now I’m going to kill him someday.
“Well, that was fun,” he snickers. “She’s a bit of a feisty one, brother. I’m glad you’ve trained her well.” He pauses, taking a sip of his drink. “It will make her transition into my care that much easier—since she technically belongs to me.”
My uncles nod in agreement, and I clench my fists under the table. “She is mine. You won’t touch her. I don’t give a fuck what you had going on with her brother. She is under my protection now.”
Dom shakes his head. “Damon, you know it doesn’t work like this. The only way you can keep a woman under your protection is to make her family.”
Why the fuck didn’t I think of that?
“Fine, then I’ll marry her.” I don’t think of the repercussions. I simply think marrying her will help her, give her the protection she needs.
Xander scoffs. I can tell he’s shocked, but he doesn't let on much. Only his eyes widen a little. “You’re going to marry your play thing…just to prove a point? Fuck, her pussy must be made of gold—or she can suck some good cock.”
When I don’t respond, he laughs. “Suit yourself…I guess, but that doesn’t bring my money back. It doesn't right a wrong, brother.”
I roll my eyes. “I’ll pay you whatever Leo owed you, but I’m sure this isn't about the money.”
I know my brother far better than anyone in the room. Money isn’t what he’s after. He has a reason for calling me here. He just used Keira to ensure I would follow through.
“Yes, you’re correct. I don’t really want the money, but there is something else I want—besides your pet.”
I wait for the blow to come…
“You could start working for me again.”
My blood runs cold. No fucking way.
Before I can utter a single word, Uncle Dom cheers, lifting his glass in the air. “Well, perfect. I’m glad we were able to come to an agreement so quickly. You get to keep your pet, and the two of you are working together again. All's right in our world, and the Rossi empire will prosper another year.”
Xander smirks like the fucking monster he is before excusing himself and getting up from his seat. I know there is no point in fighting him. There’s no point in any of this, actually. I basically gave myself back over to my brother—all to protect the fragile woman
who owns a sliver of my heart. I did this for her. I did this for…
Love?
Another glass of whiskey is set beside me as the main course is brought to the table. I decide now that Keira is safe, I may as well drink myself into a drunken stupor. Since I just signed up to marry her—and fucking work for my monstrous brother again—I think I deserve a drink…or maybe twenty.
Chapter Seventeen
Keira
I think I may have had a mild heart attack. I clutch a hand to my chest, my heart beating so fast, it hurts. Even now, as I walk around the mansion by myself, it doesn't seem to want to slow.
I tell myself to breathe, and I do—though the action is painstakingly slow. I want to cry. I want to run out the front door and hide until it’s time to leave. I’m stupid…so stupid for playing into Xander’s twisted game. I should have known better than to take his bait, but he knew exactly what to say—exactly what to dangle in front of me to make me lose control.
I stroll the seemingly endless hall, feeling frazzled and stressed. Damon said to go to a bedroom upstairs—well, he should have given me a damn road map with instructions.
All the doors are closed…so how am I supposed to know where the bedrooms are? Or what rooms I can enter and what rooms I cannot.
It feels like a trap—like one wrong move and something’s going to jump out and get me. I already had a taste of fear downstairs when Damon nearly took my finger off. What’s the worst he could do now? Cut one off?
I open the first door to my right and pop my head in. It’s dark, but the light from the hallway allows me to see this is a sitting room of sorts. I close this door and try the next. My stomach clenches. What if Damon finishes his meal and I haven’t found a bedroom? Worse yet, what if his brother gets to me before he does?
With shaky hands, I twist the knob on the next door. I sigh, my eyes taking in the huge walk-in shower and clawfoot tub. Clearly, this is a bathroom, and one that’s bigger than the bedroom in my apartment.