by LP Lovell
“No.”
“I can’t very well send Nero his collateral, high on drugs and completely broken, can I?”
“Can’t you? That’s how you found her. You didn’t offer a rehab facility.”
“So, you’d have me just dose her up and carry on?”
“Didn’t say that. But she’s pretty fucked up. It’s not your job to save her.” He’s right, but fuck if the idea doesn’t bother me.
“You can go, Carlos.” He turns, shaking his head as he walks away.
Anna’s soft breaths blow over my skin, and if I close my eyes, I can almost remember all the times that this was Violet, clutched in my arms as though I could possibly save her. I couldn’t. Anna reminds me of her; beautiful, but so hopelessly fucking destroyed. It was as if the world was so dark in her eyes, an endless hell with no light, except perhaps in a heroin needle.
But Anna hasn’t fallen that far. She can be fixed. I have to believe that, perhaps I even need to believe it.
I haven’t seen Anna all day, not since I woke up with her in my office and watched as she practically ran away from me. I slept on the damn floor with the girl, and it’s pissing me off. When I made that agreement, this wasn’t in part of it. I shouldn’t care, but I can’t seem to help myself. She hits far too close to home for me, right at my weakest point. It’s a problem.
Carlos pauses in whatever he was saying and glances up at me. “Are you listening to shit I’m saying?” He smirks, readjusting his hood over his ball cap.
“Yeah. Carry on.”
He says nothing for a moment and then clears his throat. “You could always tell the Italian, no.”
“And why the fuck would I do that?”
“You know why. It’s all very well staying out of other people’s business when it comes to dealing girls, but that girl has you on the ropes, man.” He holds his hands up as I glare. “I’m just saying. If she’s fucking with your head, best to get rid.”
“She is not fucking with my head. She’s one girl, and she’s not my damn problem.”
“Ah, Rafe. She is so your problem.” He laughs and pushes up from his chair.
As soon as he’s gone, I groan and leave my office, walking towards the back of the house. When I step outside, the cool evening air helps clear my mind.
I find myself walking towards the pond like a damn homing beacon is calling me there. The sun has dropped below the horizon, streaking the sky in deep blues and hues of gold. Long shadows reach across the carpet of grass in front of me as I approach the circular hedge that encloses the water. I step past the hedge line and pause, lingering in the shadows as I watch her—because I knew she’d be here. She’s staring at the surface of that water as though all of life’s answers are hidden in its black depths. Her long white dress pools on the ground at her feet, making her look innocent and angelic.
“Anna.” She jumps at the sound of her name, eyes darting around until they land on me. Her brows pull together for a moment before she quickly looks away. “You’ve been out here all day,” I say, noting the slightly red tinge to her skin. “Running away?” She snaps her gaze to me and glares. I take a cigar from my pocket. “Are you going to tell me what that was all about last night?”
Silence stretches between us, and I’m sure she’s not going to say anything when she finally speaks. “The nightmares…”
Pity for the little bird settles in my gut, and I can’t help but ask the question that’s burning on the edge of my tongue. “How long were you there?”
She slowly turns her face towards me. “I don’t know.”
“How old are you?”
She stares at the water. “I don’t know.” The girl doesn’t even know how old she is. She’s like a bleeding fucking heart. Shit. I can’t do this with her. I can’t care about her crappy life. Drugs, guns, whores, they’re all parts of a multibillion-dollar business. She is just one girl, a single cog in a monster machine. Irrelevant.
“What you tried to do last night, don’t do it again.” The thought of her on her knees for drugs has bile creeping up the back of my throat. “You’re not a slave here.”
“I’m owned. I am a slave.”
“Right here, right now, you are whatever I say you are,” I snap through clenched teeth.
A spark comes to life in her eyes, breaking through the lifeless glaze. “Why are you doing this? If you’re trying to break me –”
“I don’t need to break you.” Anna’s already broken.
She stands, her shoulders rigid. I stare into her eyes, and through that self-imposed wall of ice, I see all the pain and despair, the burning hatred and raw defiance. It’s buried, but it’s there, an ember just waiting for oxygen.
Her small fists clench. “Whatever it is that you want to do, just do it!”
“And what do I want to do?”
“Fuck me. Beat me. Pick your poison but just get it over with!” Her voice rises and she reaches for the straps of her dress, shoving them down her shoulders until the material falls, exposing her breasts. I grab her wrists and pin them together against my chest, repositioning her dress with my free hand.
“Didn’t I just tell you to stop with this shit?”
She’s shaking, breaths ragged and eyes wild. I can feel her pulse thrumming at her wrist, a primordial drumbeat against my fingertips.
“Don’t pretend you don’t want to.” She yanks against my hold.
A cold smile inches over my lips. “You’d like that wouldn’t you? For me to be exactly what you expect.” I lean into her, bringing my lips to her ear. “I think you want to be a slave, Anna. I think you want to be treated like a fuck doll. You’d rather be a whore than deal with the unknown. At least that way, you know what men want from you, right? You’d know what I want from you.”
She tugs on her wrists again, trying to break away from me, but I won’t let her. “No! I want…”
“What do you want, little bird?”
“I want to be free,” she whispers.
I step closer to her and place a finger beneath her chin. “No, you don’t. You say you want it, but I offer it to you, and you’re scared to take it. You’re so busy being so goddamn angry that you haven’t realized you’re standing in a cage and the door is open.”
“I’m not angry.”
I laugh. “Oh, avecita, you’re the angriest person I’ve ever met.” That anger in itself is a volatile thing because just as she has been imprisoned, so has it. She’s locked it down so tightly that it’s fighting to break free.
“And I’m not free.”
“Right now, no. You can’t even function without being told what to eat, do, or wear. Walk out of the cage, little bird.”
“Why?” she snaps. “Why ask me to leave the cage when you know I don’t belong to you? If someone is only going to put me right back in it, I’d rather not taste freedom. You can’t miss what you’ve never known.”
I swipe my thumb over her cheek, catching a stray tear that slips over her porcelain skin. What could she be if I unleashed all that anger inside her? What would Anna Vasiliev become with her freedom? She doesn’t deserve to live this life. I want to make her promises, and they’re right there on the tip of my tongue, but I stop myself. She’s just business. Business that gets under my skin.
“You won’t be a slave again.” It’s the only promise I can make, but it is one I’ll keep. Nero can deal with it or deal with me.
“You can’t promise that.”
“I’m Rafael D’Cruze. I can.”
“A cartel boss.” She snatches away from me as though waking from a dream and takes a step back. “I’ve known men like you my whole life. Don’t pretend to help me when we both know, if it weren’t for your ‘friend’, you’d happily put me to work to line your pockets. You’re all the same.”
My temper snaps tight like a rubber band, and I close the small space I allowed her only seconds before. She whips around as though to run, but I catch her, slamming my hand around her throat and wrenching h
er close. “Do not presume to fucking know me.”
Ragged breaths slip from her lips, and I can feel her heart pounding against my chest. I have to force myself to release my bruising grip on her and step away. “You know nothing.”
In the blink of an eye, her anger dissipates, replaced by that cool, untouchable mask she seems to wear so well. And as impenetrable as it may seem, it’s this that advertises how fractured she is, because she can’t handle feeling a damn thing.
“Can I go now?” she asks robotically.
“Look at me.”
She stares right at me, those blue eyes blank, distant, devoid of anything. “If I wanted to hurt you, I would. And if I wanted to fuck you, you’d know about it.”
Wordlessly, she steps around me, limping back into the darkness.
“Fuck!” I don’t have much of a heart, but if I did, she might very well break it. She’s like a bird with a damaged wing, but I can’t be the fool to try and fix her. As pretty as she is, the little Russian is never going to fly right again. Some people can’t be helped. I of all people know that. She’s Nero’s problem, not mine.
And yet I know I won’t stay away from her, as clearly as I know the sun will rise tomorrow.
10
Anna
I sit on the edge of my bed, watching the morning light streaming through the windows. I glance at the bright yellow post-it note still stuck to the bedside table, reading over the words again.
Sleeping pills for you.
Rafael.
His writing is bold and elegant, big looping swirls of ink, not unlike the ink that covers his body. I’d woken up from yet another nightmare in the middle of the night and found the note, along with two little white tablets and a glass of water. After everything I said and did last night, he left me sleeping pills. He wants to help me. I press my fingers to my temples and rub small circles over them. I don’t understand this. I don’t understand him.
There’s a knock on the door, pulling me from my thoughts. The door opens, and Lucas comes inside.
“Hey, the boss said that from now on you have to come down to the kitchen for breakfast.” He shrugs skinny shoulders.
“Why?”
Another shrug. “Dunno.” He pulls a packet from the pocket of his hoody and takes something from it, popping it in his mouth. He notices my glance and pauses before offering it to me. “Want one?”
I peer at the collection of multi-colored candy. I haven’t had candy since I was a child. Taking one, I pop it in my mouth. A fruity sweetness bursts over my tongue, but it’s quickly chased by a vile sour taste. I spit the sweet back into my hand and Lucas starts laughing. “Probably should have warned you; they’re really sour.”
“Why would you eat that?”
He keeps laughing. “I like them. If you’re quick, you might get some bacon before the guys eat it all.”
I get up and go to the bathroom, throwing Lucas’ vile candy in the bin and washing my hands. I then follow him from the room, still limping, but the pain is lessening each day.
We enter the kitchen but I falter when I see a guy sitting at the breakfast bar. It’s the same guy who was with Rafael when they came to get me, the one who shot Psycho. I’ve seen him around the house—from a distance, not like this. Her slightly lifts his chin at me, though I can’t make out his face beneath the hood and ballcap.
“Ah, you’re here,” Maria smiles from the pan of frying food. “Carlos, this is Anna. Anna, Carlos works for Rafael.” The way she says, ‘works for Rafael’, it’s as if he’s a legitimate businessman with employees. He kills for Rafael, and Rafael runs drugs, guns, and women for business. I simply nod my head and follow Lucas farther into the kitchen. He’s the only one I really trust here. And maybe Maria.
I take the seat furthest away from the hooded man, and I catch him smiling over the coffee mug clutched in front of his face. It’s not a warm smile, more amusement that I clearly don’t want to be near him. He has a quiet yet ominous air about him. He watches me, and I watch him.
Maria places a plate in front of me and huffs a breath. “Carlos, stop.” She clips him around the back of the head, and he ducks.
“Ow!” My eyebrows hike up. This tiny woman just hit the guy who looks like a serial killer, and he’s smiling at her like she’s his favorite person. “I’m just looking.”
“You’re making her nervous.”
He flashes me a quick smirk. “Sorry.”
“You’re not making me nervous,” I say. It’s true. I’m aware of him, of what he’s capable of, but I’m not scared. I never am anymore, just numb.
“Ignore the boys. They’re harmless really.” I almost choke on my coffee. She does know what they do, right?
Carlos snorts, then snaps a newspaper open, that amused smirk remaining on his lips. “Little bro.” Carlos scruffs Lucas’ hair. “How is guard duty?”
“Fuck off,” Lucas groans. “It’s fine.”
“Good. I’ll tell mum she can stop shouting at me for dragging you into my ‘gang’.”
I glance between the two of them, noticing the resemblance. Both have warm whiskey-colored eyes and a smile that says they get into trouble often. But where Carlos looks like he’s the one who starts that trouble, Lucas looks like he’d accidentally start it and then run at the sight of it.
“Carlos and Samuel live here,” Maria says to me, ignoring the guys. “Samuel’s gone to the warehouse with Rafael, but Carlos here is a night owl.” The woman talks and talks, but I find I don’t mind it. The sound of her cutting vegetables, bubbling pots, and chatting away almost to herself is somewhat soothing. I glance around the enormous kitchen with its marble counter tops and tall windows. For a second I allow my mind to wander to a fleeting memory: a big house with a kitchen similar to this. My mother cooking, my father kissing her neck and making her laugh, and my older sister sitting next to me, rolling her eyes. I smile at the memory and then snap back to reality. That was once normality, and now, well, even this isn’t my normal. I can’t help but feel the novelty though, and so for a moment, I revel in the simple act of sitting in a kitchen, eating bacon and drinking coffee like so many normal people do.
“So, you’re friends with Nero Verdi,” Carlos says without looking at me.
I’d usually refuse to speak to him because of who and what he is, but he works for Rafael. I place no trust in him, but for some reason, I think I trust Rafael. And this is exactly how the devil lures you to hell, Anna, with a false smile and an abundance of charm. Not that Rafael is charming. Far from it.
“No,” I finally say.
He lowers the paper, cocking one pierced eyebrow. His gaze drops to my chest for a second, and I don’t mind, because that one glance makes him predictable, and I like that. He brings his coffee mug to his lips, taking a sip. “Generous non-friends you have.”
“I have no friends. I’m a whore.”
A dish clatters loudly into the sink, and Maria spins around, pointing at Carlos. “Enough!” She looks at me. “I don’t want to hear you say that again.” She’s upset. Why is she upset?
A throat clears, and I look up to find Rafael standing in the doorway. His gaze is fixed on me, and for a second I find myself simply staring back, taking in every hard detail of his face.
“Boss?” Carlos’ voice snaps me out of it and I tear my gaze away.
“Carlos, we have a problem.” Carlos’ chair screeched over tile as he gets up. “Lucas, stay with Anna today,” Rafael orders, as though Lucas doesn’t stand outside my room every day.
“Yes, boss.”
I sit there for a moment, listening to men running along the hallway before the engines of several cars start outside, gravel crunching under their tires as they pull away. The house suddenly feels very quiet.
“So, uh…” Lucas starts, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. “Do you…want to do something today?”
“Something?”
“Yeah. Other than staying in your room, I mean.”
�
�Like what?” I ask suspiciously.
“We could…watch a film?”
“Oh, that’s a lovely idea, Lucas,” Maria suddenly interjects, a wide smile on her aging face.
“Okay,” I say warily, following him out of the kitchen. He leads me across the house and ducks into a dark room. I linger in the doorway, not liking the lack of light.
He flips a switch, and the room comes into view. Several huge chairs sit facing a big white screen. It’s a movie theatre. I remember going to the movies with my parents once to watch an animated movie. Lucas flops down in one of the chairs, and I lower myself into the one next to him. There’s a divider between us with huge cup holders cut into the furniture. He reaches over to me, and presses a button. The bottom of my chair moves, lifting my legs up and tilting my body back. “What do you want to watch?”
“I don’t know.”
He turns his face toward me. “Well, what sort of films do you like?”
“I don’t know,” I say quietly.
He pauses for a moment, tilting his head to the side before he nods. “Okay, well you have action films: fast cars, guns, and badassery.”
My lips twitch at that. “Badassery?”
“Yeah, like James Bond. Totally badass.”
“What else?”
“Comedy? Stuff that makes you laugh.”
I shake my head. “What do you usually watch with the other guys?”
His brows pull together in a frown. “I don’t really hang out with them.”
“Why not?”
“I guess I just don’t like them much.”
I can’t help but smile. “Me neither.”
“Yeah, I guess not.” He laughs. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“When my brother looks at you like he wants to…fuck you, you don’t care.” He ducks his head nervously. “But when I ask you to watch a film, you seem scared.” He looks up at me, those boyish eyes of his swimming with confusion and curiosity. “Why?”
I let out a long breath and lean back into the comfortable chair. “I understand what your brother wants,” I admit. “I don’t understand…this.” I gesture between us.