"Don't breathe a fucking word!" He hisses harshly in my ear.
I swallow the panic that coaxes the back of my throat.
Fear forbids my body from moving, imprisoning me in its stillness.
I am aware of his presence, yet, I refuse to submit to him.
My terror-filled shouts are muffled by enormous hands that grip me tightly as he drags me flush against his torso. His tortuous fingers dig into the flesh of my neck, his fingertips bruising my skin.
As I struggle in his grasp, the sound of his sinister voice advises me to Shut The Fuck Up. I continue to thrash against him as my head collides with the wall I am forced upon."Don't scream. Don't even breathe a fucking word, Tesoro." (Treasure) He repeats as his rough lips brush against the shell of my ear.
His hot breath fans the exposed skin on the crook of my neck, sending a long line of chills down my spine.
He is close, almost too close for comfort and there was a time when I would have welcomed his proximity with open arms.
That was prior to his affiliation with the Esposito Family.
The Mafia.
I watched him change throughout the months. He subjected my body to abuse and gradually deprived me of my independence.
He now scares the living daylights out of me. I encircle his forearm with my fingers, pleading with him not to hurt me. Knowing that my razor-sharp nails are piercing his skin.
When I look into his eyes, time seems to slow down and I wish for the ground to open up and swallow me whole.
"I'm sorry," I whimper. "I..I didn't mean to, Ace. I promise to keep my mouth shut next time." Tears slowly roll down my flushed cheeks as my bottom lip quivers.
"A volte rendi difficile amarti, Mila.!" (Sometimes you make it hard to love, Mila!) His voice is hushed and icy.
"I know I do." I sniffle.
"You portray me as a fool in front of Trent. You are aware that the consequences will fall on you, not on me." As he turns his head and spits, his eyes fill with disdain.
Fear forces my eyes shut, blinding me from reality.
Thrusting me into our past when we first met.
~Three Year's Ago.~
He stood at one end of the cafeteria and me on the other. Our eyes only met for a fraction of a second.
A glimpse that made my heart skip a beat. The chatter and laughter of the students momentarily faded into the background as I continued to stare at him.
I felt his presence before I felt him touch me. His hands were rough, demanding and possessive. His lips crushed mine, they were hot, full of hunger as if he had been deprived of my touch.
The low sound of my soft moaning and heavy breathing rang loudly in my ears when his lips abandoned mine.
He gazed deeply into my eyes. "Sii mio, amore mio?" (Be mine, my love?) He whispered, making me weak in the knees.
He had induced feelings that were unfamiliar to me and he compelled me to follow him like a lost puppy.
A sharp pain at the base of my hair snaps me back to reality. I scream as he drags me throughout the mansion and throws me to the ground.
"Apologise!" I flinch as my eyes scan the room and he growls.
"I'm sorry." With a tinge of rage, the words escape my lips.
"Don't say it to me." His brows pinch together.
"Say it directly to the boss man." He shakes his head, sneering with disappointment.
I gradually rise from my fallen position and wipe my eyes with the back of my hand. I turn my head with a trembling breath and stare at Trent.
He sits at the head of the table alongside his capo (underboss) Enzo and Castello, his loyal cousin and consigliere.
Trent's face contorts into a sickeningly twisted smile as his eyes pierce mine.
"No." I whimper as I shake my head refusing to submit to the dark lord himself.
Am I sorry for stating my mind knowing that my opinion or presence was not required while they discussed bringing minors into the country and dumping them into the sex industry?
NO.
Should I have remained silent while serving them?YES.
Do I intend to stand by what I said to them?
ALWAYS!
He stands from his chair and picks up the silencer-equipped gun, cocking it back and aiming it at me.
They assert that death produces the sensation of falling. You plummet to the depths of a bottomless, dark pit. Blind and unable to touch anything. Only the sinking sensation in the pit of your stomach and the rush of air around you alert you to the fact that the drop is very real and currently taking place.
At first, there is a dip in your stomach, a tingling sensation clinging to your body like a second layer of skin and then the adrenaline. The same mixture that causes you to scream or giggle in response to danger.
Something that is instinctively fearful.
And then nothing.
Your body is simply sinking deeper and deeper into the abyss of blackness. You open your mouth to scream. But nothing comes out, reminding you that you are alone and that no one is coming to your rescue.
That is what death supposedly feels like.
Castello rises from his seat, places his hand on Trent's forearm and lowers it towards the table.
His ocean baby blue eyes resting heavily on mine.
"Non ci sarà spargimento di sangue oggi." (There will be no bloodshed today.) He says in his mother tongue and I don't have a clue what he's just asserted.
I stare at them with eyes that are larger than saucers. My chest rises and falls vigorously as I can not will myself to look away. The fear of being shot in the back is too consuming.
Costellos' eyes shift from mine to Aces. "Portala in camera tua." (Take her to your room.)
"Si, Sir" (yes.) Ace says as he bows his head in agreement.
His eyes narrow into thin slits as he glares at me. "Get up!" He demands and I slowly rise to my feet on trembling limbs.
His hand snakes around my arm, just above my elbow and he drags me out of the room into the entrance foyer.
I exhale with relief when his phone suddenly rings and with a loud sigh, he releases me. "Don't go anywhere." He growls as he turns away and presses the phone to his ear.
I watch as he rounds the corner with his back still facing me and I discreetly make my way over to the front door.
I unlock it and take off running.
My limbs burn with each stride I take, and the sound of my heels slamming into the concrete transmit a sharp clicking sound through the atmosphere. I clutch at my neck, my fingers wrapping around my throat as I urgently attempt to fill my lungs with the tainted air of dirty money, drugs, blood and unconsented sex.
The feral aroma embeds itself into the Mafia mansion, its repulsive scent lingering down the neighbourhood scaring families away from moving into the street.
I squeeze through a small opening in the massive iron fence designed for a palace, ripping my jacket and grazing my arm in the process. The pain lasts for a millisecond, solely because I'm running on pure adrenaline, it doesn't deter me; I round the corner and I risk it by looking back to see him close behind me.
I make an executive decision to enter the local bar knowing he will not follow me.
By the time the sunsets and the moon takes her place, illuminating the sky in all her natural splendour. I am drunk. No, scratch that. I am shitfaced. Sitting at the bar nestling a glass of whiskey. My mind is clouded by waves of fog from the alcohol I've consumed, blocking out all the emotions that are screaming in my head. I lick my lips, taking another sip from my glass, finishing the last mouthful. I savour the feeling of the amber liquid as it glides down the back of my throat, setting fire to every inch of my body it caresses and I feel my body go lax with ease. Men in pricey tailor suits crowd the bar. Cigars are heavily being smoked as a powerful aromatic scent lingers in the air. I look down at my hands, turning them over as I inspect my wrists for any bruises. The safety of my home at the mansion is shattered. Toxic fear engulfs me as I press the screams that want to be heard back down.
"SHIIT!" I groan, resting the back of my hand on my head in the hopes that the hammering will soon subside as I continue to wake up. I squirm myself up against the headboard, prying one eyelid open, the sun's harsh rays glittering into the room. I pry the other eyelid open, looking down at the man stretched across the bed, his forearm covers his eyes and a cotton sheet conceals his manhood. I bite my lower lip as I let my eyes unashamedly consume him and I reach out, cautiously raising the sheet as I take a peek inside. My inner goddess cries her gratitude. I press my legs shut, suppressing the yearning that makes me want to ride him like a demented zombie hooker. I brush my finger across his cock. It jerks and slowly begins to rise as if to give me a standing ovation. I gasp when his hand grips my wrist tightly like wildfire bands. When I attempt to withdraw from his touch, he sits upright and glances at me with a
I consider retaliating, but as my gaze darts between the three of them, I realise I am outnumbered. I want to scream and yell, but all that comes out is a muffled whimper.My attention is drawn to the knife. That fucking knife, it, has the potential to kill me; it gleams, casting hues of light on the brick walls, and its jagged edge scares the living daylights out of me. The first tall, lean guy with a mean-looking tattoo on his neck approaches me, his eyes heavy on my breasts as my chest rises and falls in fear.I cock my head, gazing upward at the helpless sky, then down into the alley's darkness and beyond these goons. There is no sign of help, I am alone, and perhaps if I beg, they will feel sorry for me and release me."Please," I plead. "You don't have to do this; I'm broke," I tell them honestly.As I continue to plead, acting like a frightened kitten, they laugh at me, their repulsive laughter breaking the atmosphere's silence,"You're fuck
I step out of the shower, wrap the towel around my body, and notice the room is foggy. I turn on the fan and wait for the fog to dissipate, killing time before I am forced to pay the price of returning to this hellhole. I sigh, my gaze is drawn to the white little dress with a thin lacy thong that Ace has left on the basin sink for me. I pat myself dry, my legs aching from running, and pull the dress over my torso, wincing as it comes into contact with the cut on my arm. I turn my head to look down at the long, bloody scar on my porcelain skin and blow on it. I wince, fighting back the tears that are threatening to fall; just because I understand why I'm being forced to wear this dress, which wraps around my body like a second skin and leaves little to the imagination, does not mean I'm thrilled. I stare back at myself, after wiping the cloudy mirror with my shaking hand, the young carefree woman with so much ambition has vanished. Allowing tears to w
I turn to face Trent. "Why?" I dared to ask him, striving to keep my voice firm and strong. "Why am I being forced to spread my legs in front of you bastards?" I cross my arms in a defiant stance.His face contorts into an asymmetrical smirk. "Because it makes my dick ultra-hard and because, well..." He reaches out, playing with the tips of my wet hair between his fingers. "I said so and whatever I say in this house is law."I chew on the inside of my corner top lip, scanning the room, looking at the sick pricks with their hands on their crotches before my gaze lands on his. "Have you considered seeking professional help? You're a fucking perve."He chuckles, "You have no idea," he winks at me, extending his hand for me to take."I'm not going to give you the satisfaction of humiliating me." I hiss as I brush past him and climb onto the table without any help.Wriggling my skirt up to my hips, I shut my eyes and spread my legs wide open for them to
Six weeks later... "Do it, tesoro, (Treasure)" Ace snarls, and I shake my head with dread. "Now!" He expresses quietly as he tries to dissuade the salesman from pressing the large, rounded red button beneath the glass display cabinets, which would alert the police. My rapid breathing causes the visor of my helmet to fog up, obscuring my vision and the extra padding inside impairs my hearing. My gaze flits between the store's entrance door and Ace, who is pointing a gun at the elderly salesman, who has his hands covering his head and his body trembles. I gulp and raise the hammer above my head; a breath later, I let it slip between my fingers, watching as it shatters the glass window on the stand and I turn my head away due to shards of glass flying through the air. I reach inside the display cabinet, picking out the large pieces of glass, trying not to slice my fingers through my gloves and stuff as much jewellery as I can into the pillowcase within o
A few agonising weeks later..... BAAAANNNGG!!!! The furious crackling sound rips through the room, and I watch as the man who stood before me, pleading for mercy on his soul, collapses to the ground. The office doors burst open, men flood in one by one, angry expressions marring their features. When I turn to face them, the gun I'm holding slips from my grasp due to my trembling fingers, landing with an echoing thud on the floorboards. I raise my hands, covering my mouth as I try to muffle my cries of shock, and I turn back around to face the poor man I've just killed. His lifeless blue eyes peering back at me, his face contorted with a pleading expression and blood pooling around his head. My heinous crime is on full display in front of Trent's army of goons. "I...I..I. you." I stammer, my eyes overflowing with tears as I look at Trent. "Indeed, Mila, the gun was loaded, and you have just assassinated th
Five days later... With my anxiety taking over, I am powerless to keep my nails from digging into the wooden armrests of my chair, small splinters embedding themselves deeply beneath my nails as I loudly swallow back the nausea that has been coaxing the back of my throat for several weeks and my focus is solely on the man sitting in front of me. "You are, in fact, pregnant, Ms Starkk." As he examines my file, the doctor makes an announcement. "P..pre.." I stutter, the words refusing to leave my lips as my body begins to burn up. "Yes, pregnant," he says, looking at me through his concerned hazel green eyes as he slides his pair of glasses down the bridge of his nose. "I...I..I. Shiiit..." I mutter, removing my hands from the chair, I grip my purse violently that lays on my knees, turning my knuckles white as I try to figure out what I'm going to do. "With the information you have given us, you're about twelve weeks