The Rossi Crime Family: The Complete Five Book Mafia Series

by J. L. Beck

  He turns and looks over his shoulder at a man standing a few feet away—a man I didn’t even notice was inside the room until. I eye him cautiously. He’s similar looking to the man in front of me.

  They both have the same striking eyes and olive skin color, and then there’s the height and weight they carry. There forms are so similar, I consider the fact that they may be related. They exchange a silent nod, then the man with the kind eyes turns his attention back to me.

  “You don’t look like you’ll be able to walk far, so I’m going to carry you.” He doesn’t ask for my permission, or even give me a chance to respond. He just slides his arms beneath my body and lifts me into the air.

  My own arms lay awkwardly against my stomach as he holds me to his chest. A chest that’s warm and inviting. A chest I want to burrow my face into. I can’t take my eyes off his face. There is something about him that grabs a hold of me and refuses to let go. His beautiful gray eyes are what got my attention first, but from this angle, all I can identify is his strong, masculine jawline.

  My eyes roam over his manly features, his full lips, and high cheekbones. There’s an arrogance about him, but it doesn’t ooze from his pores. His nose has a crook in it, as if it’s been broken a time or five, and he has a few scars on his face.

  I’m only vaguely aware we are walking out of the cell when he stops dead in his tracks.

  “I’m going to need you to close your eyes. There are things in here you can’t see,” the other man orders from beside us. The unknown man tilts his face down, and my eyes meet his. There’s a story behind his eyes. I get the feeling that maybe he’s broken too—broken just like me.

  “Can you do that? Can you close your eyes for me?” His voice engulfs me like a warm blanket. I nod, letting my eyes drift closed.

  The world goes black around me, but despite that, I feel safe. I turn my face into the man's chest. He is warm…so warm. His shirt is soft. He smells good, like fresh linen mixed with some expensive cologne. We walk for a while, the sounds of their heavy footfalls bouncing off the walls. We start going upward, and I start shivering when cool air licks my heated skin. The man cradling me holds me even closer, and I take the moment to push my ear to his shirt, right over his heart. I take comfort in the sound of his heartbeat. It’s so soothing, the swooshing of the blood as it moves in and out.

  The sound of car doors opening meets my ears right before my body is jostled as he sits down. His grip never loosens on me, and I’m thankful for that—thankful for the peace his presence brings me.

  No one can hurt me with this man by my side, I just know it. I keep my eyes closed. When I’m almost asleep, the small jolt of the car coming to a complete stop wakes me. The engine is turned off, and the doors open. Then, I’m being carried out, whisked away to somewhere unknown.

  I should open my eyes. I should take in my surroundings, but the world is much more peaceful with my eyes closed. I’ve seen it with my eyes open, and I’d much rather view it through closed eyes now.

  “You can open your eyes.” The nameless man’s voice is low, husky even, and there’s something about it that calms me...that shuts down every irrational fear.

  I do as he asks and open my eyes, even though I don’t want to, not really. As soon as they’re open, I’m looking right up at him. His features are slack, and he seems more relaxed than he did back in the cell.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Sophie,” I whisper, my voice so small, I’m not even sure he heard me.

  “I’m Roman,” is all he says before heading down a long hallway. He brings me to a bedroom door. He opens it, and for a moment, I’m scared of what he might do to me. Not once did I second guess where this man was taking me or what he planned to do with me, and that was stupid of me to assume he won’t hurt me the same way my parents did.

  It’s his job. It’s why I was brought here, right? To be broken, raped, forced to do whatever I’m told to. I can’t picture the man holding me doing any of those things, though, and the fear fades away when he places me on the bed, pulling a huge quilt over me.

  “Don’t go to sleep yet. You need to eat and drink something. Just give me a minute and I’ll get you something.” He eyes me, exhaling a ragged breath, looking as if he might be a little frustrated. “You just…don’t move,” he orders, then disappears into the hallway. I take the moment of him being gone to look around the room. It's a nice, but simple bedroom. There are no pictures or any other personal items, which leads me to believe this is a guest room. It’s got minimal decorations. The bed underneath me is incredibly soft. The quilt he covered me up with is heavy and warm.

  He returns a short time later with a plate of food and a glass of milk. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he puts the plate on my lap.

  “Eat,” he orders, his eyes moving to the plate. I look down. A cut-up apple with peanut butter smeared on each slice. The effort he took to make it makes me smile. It’s something small, but it’s so much more than I’m used to.

  “It’s energy food—exactly what you need right now. You need to build up your strength.”

  I almost smile…almost.

  I pick up a piece of the apple, noticing how thin and sickly my hand looks. Lifting it to my mouth, the strong aroma of the peanut butter has saliva building in my mouth. My stomach growls, demanding me to eat it even though I don’t want to. I take a small bite and start chewing it thoroughly.

  “There you go. You should start to feel a little better after you finish eating. You can take a shower if you want.” He points to a closed door, which I’m guessing is an attached bathroom, then he picks up the glass of milk and hands it to me, urging me to take a drink.

  I do what he wants and take a greedy sip. I don’t understand his kindness or why he brought me into this room and gave me food if all I’m to be used for is sex.

  “Why…why did you bring me here?” I ask him, feeling uneasy.

  “Would you rather go back to the cell?” His response is offensive and makes me realize how much I don’t want to be back inside that cell.

  “No…I just don’t understand. Why did you buy me? Aren’t you supposed to be raping me by now? Or beating me, or giving me to some of your rich friends?” I wonder for a moment if this is all a ploy, a dream turned into a nightmare. It wouldn’t be the first time it happened.

  “What the fuck!” he roars, and I move back toward the headboard, trying to put space between us. Fury flickers in his eyes, and I worry for a moment he may hit me. I lift my hands and shield my face.

  “First, you think I’m going to rape you, and now, you’re cowering like I’m going to fucking hurt you or something.” I peek through my fingers and see his nostrils flaring. His eyes are still burning with molten lava rage, but it’s obvious he doesn’t plan to hurt me, which is surprising.

  “I-I’m s-sorry…” I stutter, lowering my hands, taking in his tense form. “That’s just what they said was going to happen to me when they took me from my home. I thought you were the man who bought me.”

  He sighs, running a hand through his thick brown mane. “My brother and I are not the people who took you. The man who took you and wanted to sell you is dead. We took over his business, but we don’t sell woman anymore. That’s why we told you to go back home.”

  “I don’t wanna go back home,” I whimper at the thought. I’d rather slit my own wrists than go back to my parents.

  “I know, and that’s why you’re here.” I still don’t quite understand why he took me from that cell and brought me here. He has no real reason to care for me, yet he’s letting me stay in what I’m assuming is his house? It makes no sense.

  “Is this your home?” I ask, picking up the discarded pieces of apple lying on the quilt from my hasty movements.

  “Yes.” His voice is clipped, as if something about me is irritating him. He doesn't elaborate any further, and for a few moments, an uncomfortable silence forms between us. I keep alternating between taking small bites of appl
e and small sips of milk until my stomach feels heavy and full.

  “I don’t think I can eat anymore,” I admit, lifting my eyes to his. They’re darker now and contain an unreadable emotion.

  “That’s fine. You can eat more later.” He takes the plate from me and gets up. He starts to walk out the door, and fear pricks up my spine. The thought of being alone terrifies me, which is strange since I was alone in that cell for what seemed like forever. The feeling sneaks up on me, and I try to push it down as much as I can. I just want to stay numb. I am not ready to feel scared again—or feel anything, for that matter.

  “Roman?” I let his name roll off my tongue. He turns while standing in the doorway. I notice then how big he is. His entire body barely fits through the doorframe. I drag my eyes down to the blue quilt sprawled across my body. I want to ask him to stay here with me, but I chicken out at the last moment.

  “May I take a shower?”

  “Yeah...sure. Everything is in that bathroom.” He nods in the direction of the door on the other side of the room. “I don’t have any girl clothes here, so I’ll give you one of my shirts for now. I’ll talk to my brother about maybe having his girlfriend take you shopping for some female shit. We will get it worked out.”

  “Thank you,” I mumble, wringing my hands together. A swarm of butterflies fills my belly. For whatever reason, I feel safe with this man, and because it makes no sense to me, I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop—for something bad to happen.

  He looks at me for a long moment before he walks out into the hall, leaving me alone in the bedroom. As soon as he is out of sight, my chest constricts. It feels like I can’t breathe, like someone is sitting on my chest.

  I force myself from the bed and hiss at the contact of my bare feet against the cold floor. I grip the knob of the bathroom door and push it open. Reaching for the light switch, I flick it on. A soft illuminating light emits from the ceiling, and I tiptoe inside, taking in the entire room with a shocked expression.

  I’ve never seen a bathroom so big in my entire life. There’s a huge shower covering the entire length of one wall, and a vanity with a marble countertop. Towels and washcloths are stored beneath the vanity, along with mini shampoos, conditioners, and body wash. I grab a towel and some of the soaps, placing them on the counter.

  Peeling the dress from my body, I toss the silky fabric to the floor at my feet. When I lift my gaze to the mirror in front of me, I almost don’t recognize the woman looking back at me.

  I’ve lost so much weight, my bones are protruding in places and my skin is even paler than usual, making the dark rings that have formed under my eyes stand out more.

  My gaze lingers on the mirror a little longer, and I catch a look at my backside. The marks from the beating my father gave me for refusing to marry Anthony are nearly healed, but the internal wounds remain. My hands start to shake, and tears fills my eyes as I think back to that night.

  “All you had to do was fulfil your duty as a woman and marry him, Sophie. You knew we needed this money.” My father’s deep growl should scare me, but nothing scares me quite like the belt in his hands. I should’ve known refusing to do as he asked would result in something like this, but I couldn’t—no, I wouldn’t marry a man just for his money.

  No matter if my parents wanted me to or not...which led me to this very moment. The sound of the belt snapping fills the air. I sink my nails into my palms, readying myself for the strike.

  “You're a disgrace to this family. Not only will you take this beating, you'll now be sold off to another man to fulfill your duty. One who will take you as his mistress, just like the harlot you are.”

  I try to get the images and feeling of the belt landing against my skin out of my mind. I can still feel the sting of the belt as it struck my skin, over and over again.

  I shake my head, cold tears slipping down my cheeks. I don't think I’ll ever be able to let go of the pain I experienced that day, and I know that's how they win—making sure I remember how broken they made me.

  It wasn't just the physical pain that made it so bad, but the emotional pain of my father being so unloving and cruel, realizing I’m nothing more than a dollar sign to him.

  Though I expected him to hurt me, I never expected my mother to turn her back on me. That was what sent me over the edge—what truly shattered my already broken heart.

  I was her daughter after all, and all she did was stand there, watching me suffer, the blood dripping down my back onto the floor. I would never forget how she idly stood by while pieces of my soul died. I wipe away the evidence of my treacherous tears from my face, and turn and walk over to the shower, twisting the knobs on.

  I don't even wait for the temperature to adjust before stepping into the spray and letting the still cold water run over my skin. My whole body shivers, but at least the shock draws me away from the memory.

  The water slowly turns warm, and my shaking subsides as I lean against the tiled wall. For a while, I just stand there, enjoying the warmth and comfort, but all too soon, those memories resurface, the fear and pain returning ten-fold—and this time, I can’t do anything to stop them. My mind is overtaken, and I can’t think of anything but that night and how helpless I felt. I feel like I'm in a dark hole unable to claw my way back out.

  Unable to keep myself up any longer, I slump to the floor and pull my legs into my chest, wrapping my arms around myself. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to escape the nightmare.

  Sobs wreck my body as my tears mix with the water washing down the drain. My mind is left in a fog of despair, and I lose track of time. I know I should pull myself up, but I just can't muster the strength.

  “Sophie?” Roman’s soothing voice drags me back to reality. I pry my swollen eyes open and blink away the water sticking to my lashes. The shower curtain is drawn to the side, steam escaping into the rest of the bathroom.

  I look up and see Roman crouching in front of me, eyeing me warily. His gaze isn't seductive, nor does it waver from my face.

  “I knocked on the door and called your name, but you didn't answer, so I came in to check on you,” he explains. “You have been in here for a long time. Are you ready to come out?” I give him a weak nod, and he turns off the water. Grabbing a towel, he sets it on the edge of the counter close to the shower. I move my arms to push myself up off the floor, but I'm so weak, the slightest pressure causes my wrists to buckle under my weight.

  “Are you going to be good…or?” He scratches at the back of his head, keeping his gaze to the floor.

  My cheeks heat with embarrassment. The only way I'm going to get out of this shower is if he helps me.

  “I…I can't get up,” I admit shamefully, looking up at him. He still hasn't looked at me, and for a second, I wonder if he's just going to leave me here. I wouldn't blame him if he did.

  “Okay…let me help you,” he mumbles, crossing the space between us. I know I should care about him seeing me naked or the marks on my back, but I don't. If he was going to hurt me, he could've done it already. He steps over the lip of the shower and bends down, placing both hands under my armpits. I shiver at his warm touch as he lifts me into the air. My legs are jelly, but I get them to hold my weight.

  “Are you good?” he croaks, keeping one hand beneath my arm to steady me as he reaches for the towel.

  I flex my toes against the tile and nod. My legs are weak, but I’ll manage. After all, he can't stand here holding me up all day.

  He exhales, and his spicy scent engulfs me. He smells like cinnamon and cloves. I just want to lean into his chest and inhale him. He hands me the towel and releases his hold on me. I force myself to give him a soft smile as I wrap the fluffy white towel around myself. When I look back up at him, an unknown emotion crosses his face. When our eyes collide, his gaze darkens, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. The air is thick between us, and I don’t understand why. I lick my lips as the thought of kissing him enters my mind.

  I blink the thought
away. I don’t want to kiss this man.

  “I’ll be in the bedroom if you need anything,” he growls, slamming the door closed behind him as he leaves.

  The noise vibrates through me, and I wonder what I did to make him angry.

  I force myself to dry off and find a cotton white t-shirt and pair of boxers on the counter. I slip on the oversized t-shirt, relishing in the soft fabric against my skin. It ends just above my knees, so it looks more like a dress. I grab the boxers and pull them on next, rolling the waistband until they're somewhat on, then wrap my long, dark brown hair in a towel.

  I pick up my discarded dress and place it on the counter before walking to the door. He sits on the edge of the bed, his arms folded over his broad chest. When I walk toward him on unsteady feet, he gets up and steps aside, giving me room to lay back down.

  “You should try to get some sleep. If you need anything, I’m in the bedroom across the hall.” He starts to walk out the door, and the thought of being alone again scares me enough to give me the courage to speak.

  “Please stay,” I blurt out. “I don’t want to be alone.”

  He stops mid-step, giving me an icy glare. “I don’t know what you think this is, but I don’t have the time or patience to babysit you. You are here because my brother has nowhere else to put you—that’s it.” I swallow around the lump in my throat. I want to ask him why he’s so mad, or what I did wrong, but he storms out of the room, closing the door behind him before I can.

  I feel beyond alone right now, like I’m back in that cell, only it’s worse because there is someone for me to talk too now. There is no noise apart from my breathing and too fast heartbeat. I remain in the bed, the quilt tucked up to my cheeks, trying to let go of the irrational fear of being alone.

  I shouldn’t care. Not really. It’s not Roman’s job to keep me company, so his words, though cold, aren’t false. I should be glad I’m here now, in this nice house, in a comfortable bed, instead of on the cot in the cell. All of this could’ve ended in a much worse way than me simply being alone, but it’s not enough for me.