by Nikki Ash
Adrian leans forward and picks up the sock from the table before tossing it to me. I stuff the hacked off foot into the sock. As I stand, I seek out Talia’s face. She’s buried her face in her hands as she sobs.
“Make her watch,” I command in a cold tone. “Make her see.”
She cries out when Adrian grips her wrists and pulls them away.
I tie a knot in the sock close to the severed foot and then hold the tube end in my grip. With a hard pop, I whack Cy in the head.
“You’re s-sick,” she croaks out. “A fucking sick monster!”
Whack! Whack! Whack!
I ignore her as I beat the shit out of Cy with his own goddamn foot. He groans and gurgles.
Whack! Whack! Whack!
When I hit him just right across his nose, it pops as it breaks. Blood gushes down his front like a river of crimson. I whack him in the face again, his blood splattering everywhere.
Whack! Whack! Whack!
I nail him hard in the throat, making him gag. Enough whacks to his throat and I’ll crush his windpipe. Yanking on his hair with one hand to tilt his head back, I swing with the other over and over against his Adam’s apple with his severed foot. A nasty crunching sound can be heard and then raspy wheezing. I continue nailing him with the foot until the sock rips and the foot flings out. Blood covers my front and I’m breathing heavily with exertion.
“I hate liars,” I snarl, my eyes locking with Talia’s blue, terror-filled ones. “People loyal to me don’t lie. I expect you’ll learn to be quite loyal.”
I move to stand behind Cy, staring at the Nikolaides woman, who seems to want to learn lessons the hard way. Gripping Cy’s head, I twist hard to the right, snapping his neck and ending his miserable existence.
“Call Franco to clean this up,” I bark out to Adrian as I head over to the sink. “And give me your shoes.” I unbutton my shirt and peel it off before tossing it over to where Cy’s body sits. I kick off my shoes and step into the clean ones Adrian offers to me. Then, I start washing what I can of the blood off me. “Tell Phynn I’ll want my car detailed by tomorrow. This shit will stain.”
Adrian is already on the phone to Franco. Franco owns a funeral home and crematory. For his aid in disposing of bodies, he receives preferential treatment from our family and handsome payments.
“Be a doll, will you, and grab my jacket,” I instruct to Talia.
When she makes no moves to get up, her body trembling violently, I whistle sharply.
“Now, moró mou.”
She rises and stumbles over to the chair with my jacket before snagging it up. It gets tossed to me as she storms up the stairs. I pull it on along the way up and grab her before she’s made it out of the door. Pinning her to the wall, I glower down at her.
So small.
Breakable.
Mine now.
“Your attitude fucking sucks,” I growl. “Learn to keep it in check.”
“Or what?” she hisses. “You’ll beat me with my own foot?”
Smirking, I release her. “I’m sure I’ll come up with something clever to teach you a lesson should you disobey.”
Her blue eyes flare as she pulls away from me. “I hate you.”
“You wouldn’t be the first.” I give her ass a swat. “Pick up the pace. We have dinner reservations at six. I imagine you’d like a shower and a nap before then.”
“I’m not going to dinner with you,” she chokes out, turning on her heel in the kitchen to glower at me. “I can’t stand to look at you.”
Reaching forward, I delicately twirl a strand of her blond hair around my finger and tug. “This is where you seem to be confused. You think you have a say…” I lean forward and rest my forehead to hers. “You. Have. No. Say.”
She pulls away from me and rushes out. I stalk after her, pleased to find her getting back inside my car. Good girl. May as well learn your place in the Demetriou world right away.
Once inside my vehicle, I reach over and take her trembling hand. She attempts to pull it away, but I’m stronger.
“What size ring do you wear?”
“Fuck you,” she breathes, hate dripping from her words.
“Soon, moró mou. Don’t worry.” I chuckle when she hisses at me. “Size six?”
She stubbornly refuses to speak. I pull her hand toward me and inhale her skin before nipping at the back of it.
“Tell me,” I warn. “You don’t want to learn how persuasive my teeth are when I am needing information.” I catch her flesh between my teeth and bite hard enough to make her squirm, but not hard enough to leave a bruise.
“Seven,” she chokes out. “I’m a seven.”
I release her skin and kiss the back of her hand. “Thank you. You’ll learn,” I explain with a smile. “Do as I say and I’ll reward you. Refuse me and I’ll punish you. Understand?”
She nods rapidly, tears streaking down her cheeks.
“Good girl.”
Talia
“Where are we?” I ask as Kostas parks his car in what looks like a private underground carport. “I think my room is on the other side.”
The hotel is huge, but I’ve explored enough of it to know my room is on the south side of the property, and we’re currently on the north side.
“We’re at my place,” Kostas states coldly. “Your stuff has been moved here.”
He exits his vehicle, and without waiting for me, stalks down the walkway. I consider, for a brief second, running in the opposite direction, but then flashbacks to only a few minutes ago surface: of the bloodied man. Kostas sawing off his foot and then beating him with it. Kostas snapping his neck like it was a chicken bone. And I follow behind Kostas.
It’s not that I’m giving up on escaping, but I’m not stupid enough to be careless about it anymore. I underestimated him. I lumped him into the same category as my father and the men I’ve met over the years who work for him. Kostas is not my father. He’s on an entirely different level. Leaving is going to require extensive planning because if he catches me the next time, I have no doubt he will make me suffer the way he made that man suffer in the cellar.
I shiver at the thought of what he would do to me if he caught me trying to leave again. No, the next time I leave, I have to make sure I completely disappear.
When we step through the threshold of Kostas’s place, I realize that while the outside looks similar to the hotel rooms, inside is vastly different. For one, it’s massive. Just the foyer and living room are at least twice the size of the entire room I was staying in. I thought my room was exquisite, but his puts my room to shame.
Brown and white marble flooring expands across the entire area. Plush coffee-colored leather couches, a mahogany wood coffee table, and a beautiful fireplace make up the living room. The walls are different shades of brown with a few strategically placed pieces of art hanging up. It’s clearly a typical bachelor pad, but upgraded to fit Kostas’s level of wealth.
I follow him past the expansive kitchen that matches the living room perfectly, with its mahogany wood cabinets and marble countertops. Complete with stainless steel appliances. As I walk through Kostas’s home, I quickly come to the realization that my family’s money couldn’t even afford to have a conversation with Kostas’s family’s money. This is why Nonno said their decision is law. They can afford to make things go their way.
Kostas stops when he enters what appears to be the master bedroom. The same color scheme has continued into his room, but to soften it a bit, cream has been added to the mix. In the center of the room is a king-sized four-poster bed. If in any other standard master bedroom it would appear overwhelming, in this room it fits perfectly. The bed is solid wood and has intricate designs running up each of the poles. When my eyes land on the cream-colored sheets, it hits me. I’m expected to sleep in this bed with Kostas. The man who just singlehandedly took the life of another man.
“We’re not married yet,” I blurt out, terrified all over again. “Shouldn’t I sleep somewhere else
until we are?”
Kostas, who has already stripped down to his boxers, raises a single brow. “If you’re afraid of me stealing your virtue, don’t worry. I have no intention of touching you until we’re married. My mother raised me to be a gentleman.” He smirks. “But later tonight, you will be sleeping in this bed with me.”
My eyes rake over Kostas’s body. Various tattoos cover his chiseled chest, rock-hard abs, and corded biceps and forearms. He’s not overly muscular, but it’s apparent he works out and keeps in shape. It’s probably all from sawing off body parts and then beating people with them…
The only man’s body I’ve ever paid any attention to was Alex’s, and the vast difference between the two men is evident. Where Alex is toned and lean, his body is clearly that of a boy, while Kostas’s body…it’s all man…and scary.
“You like what you see, moró mou?” Kostas asks when he catches me checking him out. My eyes swing back up to meet his hazel ones. They’re no longer dark like they were in the cellar. No longer angry. Now, they’re softer, taking on a beautiful honey color. For a moment, I’m mesmerized by the way his eyes change according to his mood. Earlier, it’s clear he was angry, but right now, I can’t quite figure out what his mood is.
“I asked you a question,” he utters, his eyes brightening just a tad.
“No,” I say, answering his question, “and stop calling me moró mou. I’m not your baby. I’m not your anything.” I flinch as soon as the words are out, afraid of what his reaction will be. I’ve never been good at simply obeying. My mother always told me I’m stubborn and strong-willed, and I can do anything I put my mind to because I’m not the kind of person to give up. I always considered those traits a good thing, but now, those same traits may be what gets me killed…or worse.
Kostas cuts across the room and is in my face before I can apologize. He pushes me against the dresser, the carved wood digging into my back. His hands come down on either side of my body, caging me in, his face only a hairbreadth away from mine. His gaze locks with mine.
“You. Are. Mine,” he growls. “And the sooner you accept that, the better off you’ll be. This time next week you will be my wife. The type of life you want is up to you. You can play nice, and I will give you the world. The sun, the stars, and the motherfucking sky. Or you can make shit difficult, and I will take it all away, leaving you with nothing but darkness.”
His eyes drop to my mouth, and his tongue darts out, wetting his lips. And suddenly the look in his eyes makes sense. Lust. He’s turned on. And he’s going to kiss me. He’s testing me. Wanting to see if I’ll play nice.
I haven’t made my decision yet when his tongue traces my top lip, then my bottom one. My eyes close of their own accord, clearly making the choice for me, when a jolt of pain sears through me. My eyes pop open, shocked. It takes me a second to figure out what just happened.
The asshole bit me! I suck in my bottom lip and can taste the metallic liquid. He fucking bit me and drew blood! Kostas’s lips curl into a devious smile that pisses me off because I was actually going to let him kiss me.
“Real nice,” I hiss, trying to hide my embarrassment.
I attempt to push his arm out of my way so I can escape—to where, I have no idea—but he doesn’t budge. Instead, his chin dips down and he captures my bleeding lip with his mouth. My hands push against his chest, but it’s futile. He’s stronger. His sturdy yet surprisingly soft lips suck in my own, and he licks across my flesh. I stop pushing against him, frozen in place. Unsure of what to do. And then his lips descend on mine. His tongue pushes through my parted lips, and I can taste my blood mixed with something else…something minty.
And it’s as if my body has a mind of its own, because before I can give it any more thought, my lips are moving in sync with his. Every swipe of his tongue is controlled, deliberate. I’ve never felt so exposed. I’m fully clothed, and the only part of my body he’s touching is my mouth, yet I feel like he’s able to see all of me. Every hidden and private part of me.
Suddenly, it’s all too much. This isn’t right. I shouldn’t be kissing him. He’s still wearing the blood of the man he just tortured and killed. But I can’t stop it. His mouth dominates mine, and I’m defenseless to end it. So, instead, I just let it happen.
When Kostas pulls back, and his eyes meet mine, they’re blazing with an emotion I can’t quite pinpoint. He doesn’t quite look mad. Maybe confused. That makes two of us…
He steps back and draws his bottom lip into his mouth as if he’s still tasting me. “I need to shower. Be ready at five thirty.” And with that, he turns on his heel and stalks into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him—leaving me to wonder what the hell just happened, and if maybe Kostas was right. Maybe there was more to Proserpina’s feelings. Maybe she was scared of wanting him. Scared of what she felt for him. It would make sense. Because right now, even though I don’t want to admit it, I can completely relate to how Kostas described Proserpina. And I’ve never been more scared.
Ring…Ring…Ring…
My eyes pop open, and I glance around the room, taking in my surroundings. I’m in Kostas’s master bedroom, in his bed. He kissed me. And I might’ve enjoyed it. But then he walked away. Despite not wanting to do as he instructed, I was exhausted, and after fighting sleep for a few minutes, I ended up passing out.
“An Alex is calling you,” a deep voice says. I whip my head around to see Kostas standing next to the bed with my cell phone in his hand. I reach out to take it from him, remembering I never called Alex to let him know what my gate number would be, but Kostas pulls it back before I can grab it. “Who’s Alex?”
“Nobody,” I say before I can think about it.
Kostas kneels so he’s eye level with me, his features darkening and confirming what I noticed earlier: his eyes change according to his mood. “Did you already forget what happens when people lie to me?” he asks. “Let’s try this again. Who. Is. Alex?”
Sitting up, so I don’t feel at such a disadvantage, I tell him the truth. “He’s my boyfriend.”
I gauge Kostas’s features to see how he’s going to react to my truth. Outwardly, he gives nothing away. But his eyes—they’re all too telling in the way they blaze with anger, so hot, that with one strike, they could catch the room we’re in on fire.
The phone rings in his hand again, and he silences it. “I will not have my wife spreading her legs for anyone but me. I suggest you handle this problem. Otherwise, I will handle it for you.”
I don’t need to ask to know his way of handling it, will end with someone—Alex—dying.
The phone rings once again, and this time he lets me take it. “I have work to do. I’ll be back at five thirty to get you. Be ready.”
I wait until he’s out of the room before I call Alex back.
“Talia, are you okay?” Alex asks, worry in his voice. “You told me you would call me with the gate number and you never did. You should have already been on your way, so I was worried.”
I close my eyes, refusing to let the tears fall. I can’t do this to him. I can’t have him worrying about me. Who knows when or if I’ll be able to get away. And if I do, going to Alex will mean putting a huge target on his chest. Kostas killed that guy earlier without a second thought, and I don’t doubt he will do the same to Alex if he views him as a problem.
“Alex, I’m not coming.”
“Why? What’s wrong?” His concern solidifies my decision. If I leave him hanging, he’s going to continue to worry, and I can’t have him involved in any of this.
“I can’t be with you anymore. I’m sorry, but I’m with someone else now.”
The line is silent for a long beat before Alex finally responds. “I don’t understand.” Of course he doesn’t. We were just making plans to spend the summer together and now I’m breaking up with him. I have to cut ties completely, though. I have to make it clear it’s over so he doesn’t try to contact me.
“I’m back together with my ex. I’m sorr
y, but you were nothing more than a rebound. I thought I was over him, but then I saw him again and realized I still loved him.” I swallow the large lump in my throat and then add, “We’re engaged to be married.”
“This doesn’t make any sense!” Alex shouts through the phone. “You were just coming here.”
“You don’t have to understand,” I tell him. “You just need to know it’s over and that I don’t want you to ever contact me again. Goodbye.” I hang up before he can argue and then block his number from being able to call or text me.
For a moment, I sit and stare at the wall, trying to figure out how my life has come to this. Not even twenty-four hours ago, I was on top of the world. I was excelling in school, had a loving boyfriend. I had my entire future planned out. Now, I’ve lost my father…no, I take that back. I didn’t lose him. He lost me. He handed me over. And by consequence, I’ve lost my entire life. Will Kostas even let me see my mother? In the blink of an eye, I’ve lost everything that means anything to me, and there’s a good chance I’m never going to get any of it back.
A sudden wave of anxiety hits me, and I reach up to my throat, struggling to breathe. It’s all just too much. This can’t be real. I keep hoping that I’m going to wake up and it will all be a horrible dream. But deep down, I know…this isn’t a dream at all. This is my reality.
I close my eyes and count to ten, trying to even out my breathing. When that doesn’t work, I get up and head into the bathroom to splash some water on my face. Checking myself out in the mirror, I see the pink is gone from the cheek where I was slapped. I also notice I’m all wrinkled. I’m going to need to change for dinner. Change…Kostas said all of my stuff was brought here.
Stepping back into the bedroom, I spot an armoire similar to the one in the room I was staying in. Opening it up, I find the outfits that were in my room are now in this one. I move to the dresser and open each of the drawers: bras, panties, silk pajamas. Oh my God, he really did have all my stuff moved. When the hell did he find the time?