LUCIA
I’veseenthegrandballroominmyfamily’shomemanytimesbefore,butneverlikethis.I’veseenitfulloftablesforgalas, stringmusic filteringupstairs where I’ve always had to stayafter catchinga glimpse, isolated awayfromthe adults and their parties.I’ve seenitdrapedinblackfor wakes andfuneral receptions once again,onlya glimpse before I’ve been shuffledupstairs,never apartofthingsfor verylong I’vebeenkeptcarefullyshelteredandtuckedawayhereinmyfather’s grandestateintheSiciliancountryside.Buttonight,allofthatchanges.
Ihoveratthetopofthestaircase,lookingdown.Theroomisalreadyfullofguests,thatfamiliarstringmusicdriftingupto whereI’mstanding,waitingformyfathertoannounceme,waitingtomakemyentrance Twodaysago,Iturnedeighteen and tonight, I’mbeingpresented to the Sicilianmafia elite and their guests, friends, and trusted acquaintances. Iammyfather’s mostprizedjewel,andtonight,I’mbeingallowedtoglitterinpublicforthefirsttime
Nervously,Ismoothmyhandsovermyfullskirt,feelingthecarefullyembroideredlaceflowersscatteredacrossitunder myfingertips I’vehadbeautifulclothesandfinethingsallmylife,butneveranythingthisgrand Thedresswashandmadeover thecourseofthepastyearbythefinestseamstressesmyfathercouldcommission alightblueballgownthatmatchesmyeyes exactly, almost Cinderella-like inits construction. The bodice is reinforced satin, the neckline highenoughto preserve my modesty, but shaped in a bustier-style to show off my slender curves The sleeves are puffed tulle, draped just below my shoulders,showingoffthedelicatelineofmythroatandcollarbones.Enticing,butnottooseductive.Everymaninthatroom belowwillbelookingatme,someofthemintendingtomakemyfatheranoffer Icouldbemarriedtooneoftonight’sguestsinamatterofmonths.
My father’s voice booms out from below, encouraging his ‘esteemed guests’ to gather around. I feel my pulse flutter anxiouslyinmythroatasIstandpoisedtodescendintothecrowd;thisnightthatI’veanticipatedforsolongisfinallyhere.I see myfather standingatthe footofthe staircase witha glass ofchampagne inhis hand, his iron-grayhair smoothed back, dressed impeccably in a bespoke tailored suit Everything about tonight, from the masses of fresh flowers decorating the ballroomtothehand-sewnembroideryonmygown,theelitestringquartet,andthefinechinaandcrystalusedtoservecanapes andalcohol allofitismeanttodisplaymyfather’spowerandwealth HeistheheadoftheFamily,themostpowerfulmanin theItalianmafia,andIamhisdaughter.Allofthis andthemanluckyenoughtoclaimmyhandinmarriage,ismybirthright.
“Allowmetointroducemydaughter LuciaElysiaFontana!”Hisvoicecarriesoutovertheroom,deepandbooming,and Ifeel the excitementspreadthroughme.Myfeetcarryme forwarddownthe stairs one slow stepata time,myhandgliding downthebanisterraillikeaprincessinamovie.Allofthisfeelslikeadream thepinnacleofwhatI’vebeenwaitingfor,a dayevenmoreexcitingthanmywedding Myweddingdaywill beaboutthemergingoftwofamilies,celebratingtherisein statureforwhomevermyfatherchoosesandaclosenewallyforhim,buttonightisaboutme.
Thisismymoment,andI’llnevertrulyhaveanotherlikeit
IfeelalloftheeyesintheroomonmeasInearlyfloatdownthestairs,feelingaflushofhappinessandanticipation.I’ve imaginedthismomentoverandover,andit’sfinallyhere.
WhenIstepdownnexttomyfather,hetakesmyhand,turningmetopresentmetothegatheredguests “Mydaughter,”he repeats,smilingbroadly,clearlypleasedwithmyperformance withthe wayall ofthe guests’attentionwas rivetedonme. Mysuccesstonightismyfather’ssuccess,proofthatevenwithoutamothertohelpraiseme,I’vebecometheperfectexample ofamafiaprincess.
“MayI?”Anunfamiliarmanstepsforward,tallanddark-haired,likelyinhismid-thirties Iseefaintlinesatthecornersof his hazel eyes and the slightesthints ofsilver inhis hair, buthe’s handsome enough, and Itake his hand as he offers it. “It wouldbemydelighttoclaimyourfirstdance,MissFontana.”
Ihavenodoubtthatmyfather orchestratedthis,thatthis manis someonewhohesees as apossiblematchfor me.Ialso knowthatI’mexpectedtoaccept.
“Ofcourse”Ismilegraciously,restingmyhandinhispalm “Signore ?”
“Youmaycall me Mattias.” He smiles,drawingme throughthe crowdtowards the dance floor,where other couples are swayingtothemusic “Imustadmit,I’vealreadyspokenwithyourfather Iwasveryeagertobeabletoclaimthehonorofthe firstdancetonight.”
Hishandrestsonthesmallofmyback,arespectfulspacebetweenusashisotherhandwrapsaroundmine Thestepsto themusicareslowandpracticed,leavingplentyofopportunityforustospeaktoeachother.
“I’mflatteredthatyouweresoeager.”EverythingIsayisaspracticedasthedancetaughttomeoverlonghours,learning etiquetteandconversationfromtheprivatetutorsmyfatheremployedforme Mattias,Iexpect,ischoosinghiswordswithas muchcare.
I’mawarethatarrangingmymarriageisadelicatematter Themanmyfatherchoosesmustbefromafamilycloseenough tothehighestranksofSiciliandonsthathe’sworthyofme.Hehastobesomeonewithrespectformyfather,lestmyfatherrisk allowingasnakeintoourmidst Hemustberespectedbyothers,sothatthemarriagedoesn’tdiminishmyfather’sstanding He must be wealthyenoughthat he won’t be tempted byhis proximityto myfamilyto take more thanhis share. He has to be fearsomeenoughthathewilladdtomyfather’sstrength,nottakeawayfromit.
Whetherthemanmyfatherchoosesishandsome,kind,orloving thosethingsaren’ttakenintoaccount WhichmeansI’m relievedthatMattiasseemstoatleastberespectful andhe’scertainlyhandsome.Aswemoveacrossthedancefloor,Ican imaginekissinghim There’snosurgeofdesireorsparkofchemistry,butwhenIimaginehislipspressedtomine,thehandon mybackmovingovermewithmoreurgency,theideadoesn’tmakemeuncomfortable.
Anyway,evenifmyhusbandisn’thandsomeorkind,Iwon’thavetoendurehimforlong.Ifthere’sanythingI’velearned bothfromthe womenwho taught me myrole inthis world and fromthe whispers ofthe maids around me, mafia husbands rarelyspendmuchtimeintheirwives’beds.Thepurposeoffuckingyourwifeistoproduceanheir,notforpleasure.
Asforhowthewivesfeelaboutthat nooneeveransweredthatquestionforme
“Anymanwouldbeeagerforthepossibilitytohaveyouashisbride.”Mattias’saccentisthick,warm,andrichasitfills theairaroundus,asthickasmyfather’s ASicilianmantothebone,Icantell Ithinkthat’swhatmyfatherwants,tomarryme tosomeonefromoneoftheoldmafiabloodlines,someoneclosetotheheartoftheFamily.
TherewasatimewhenIknowtherewastalkofmarryingmeintooneofthefamiliesintheStates someoneinChicagoor Boston, perhaps. Butfromwhatlittle Icangleanfromthe gossip and bits ofconversationIoverhear, there’s beenupheaval recentlythere.Enoughtomakemyfatherreconsider,andleanmoreheavilytowardsamarriageclosertohome.
“Would Ibe your firstwife?” Iask, smilingup atMattias as he guides me across the dance floor It’s a bitofa brazen question,butit’soneI’mcurioustohavetheanswerto.Awidowermeansthepossibilityofstepchildren,somethingthatIfeel terrifiedtohandleatonlyeighteen MyownstepmotherhasstayedfarawayfromtheestatewhereIlive,keptatamuchmore modernhomeinRome.Shehadnointerestinmotheringmeormybrother,andmyfatherhadnointerestingivingherthetask. She’sbarelytenyearsolderthanIam,withchildrenofherownnow myhalf-brotherandsisters.
“Yes, youwould be I have not had the pleasure of marryingbefore” Mattias looks at me curiously “I hope that’s the answerthatyouwereanticipating?”
Afaintglowwashesthroughmeattheideathathemightcareaboutmyopiniononit It’snotsomethingIexpected “Itis,”I tellhimhonestly.“Atleastwecouldbothgointothemarriagewithequalinexperience.”
He laughs atthat, a genuine sound thattells me he caughtthe joke Imade He’s certainlymore experienced thanIamin certainareas Ican’timagineanymafioso beingavirginwhenhewaswed butinthemattersofactingashusbandandwife, wewouldatleastbeonequalground.
“Ihavekeptawomanatoneofmyestates,”heconfesses,asthemusicbeginstoslow “ButIwasn’tthereoften Itwasn’t likelivingtogether.”
“Oh”I’mnotsurewhattosay Ididn’texpecthimtotell mesomethingsopersonal Hisexploits,bothbeforeandafter our marriage,aretraditionallynoneofmyconcern.Itmakes mewonder how eager heis tosecuremyhand andhow much influencehethinksmywishesreallyhaveovermyfather Thelatterthoughtmakesmewanttolaugh
Iknowthatmyfatherisamanothersfear,inthevaguesortofwaythatIalsoknowthehistoryofthecountryIwasraisedin and the ethos ofItalianmafia culture. ButI’ve never had cause to feel thatfear or evenwitness it. I’ve spentmylife being spoiledandpampered,lavishedwitheveryextravaganceandthebestofeverything lessons,tutors,clothes,jewelry,hobbies Myfatherisnotaparticularlywarmman,butI’veneverfeltlessthantreasuredandcaredfor evenifitissomewhatinthe waythatIexpectonetreatsaparticularlypreciousandvaluablepossession
Butthenagain,Iexpectthesamefrommyhusband.It’sthewaythingsare,andI’veneverthoughttoquestionit.Ifmylife comeswithgildedbarsaroundit,thosebarsatleastkeepmesafefromthosewhowouldwishtoharmme.It’satrade my freedomformysecurity,myindependenceformycomfort andit’soneI’vealwaysbeenhappytomake.
Reluctantly,IfeelMattiasreleasemyhandasanothertall,well-dressedmanapproachesusattheedgeofthedancefloor.
“IregretthatImustpassyouofftosomeoneelse,”hesayswithafaintsmile,steppingbackandinclininghishead.“ButIwill bespeakingtoyourfathertomorrowmorning,soperhapswewillseeeachotheragainsoon.”
Inod,returningthesmile “IfI’mfreetonight,I’dlovetodancewithyouagain,”Itellhim,andhechuckles “Idon’texpectI’llbeabletosnatchyouawayforevenamoment.ButIwilllookoutforanopportunity,justincase.”
Anhourlater,myfeetarebeginningtohurt I’vebeendancingwithonemanoranothersinceMattiasbroughtmeouttothe floor,andIpauseasthelatestmantoclaimadancespinsme,takingaslowbreath.
“Areyoualright?”theman Fazio,Ithinkhisnameis asksconcernedly,andInod “Ijustneedtositdownforamoment,Ithink.Alittlewaterwouldn’thurt,either.”
He steers me eagerlytowards one ofthe chairs atthe edge ofthe dance floor gold Chiavari and Isinkinto itwitha sigh “I’llbebackwithsomewaterinamoment,”Faziopromises,dartingawaywithoutnoticingthecateringstaffpassinghim bywithatrayinhand.
Onfurtherinspection,astheblack-and-whiteuniformedmangetscloser,Iseethatit’snotwateronhistray,butchampagne Isweep a glass offanyway, takinga delicate sip ofit. I’ve never had champagne before, and I’mdelighted bythe waythe bubbles burst over my tongue, the dry sweetness spreading through my mouth I’m also starving, and I snag a few hors d’oeuvresoffofanotherpassingtray,nibblingatthemasIwaitforFaziotocomeback.They’redelicious somekindofflaky pastrywithsoftcheeseandspicedgroundmeatinone,andanotherthat’saflatbreadwithherbedcreamcheeseandagrilled shrimpatopit It’shardlyameal,butitwillkeepmefrompassingoutuntiltheendofthenightwhenIcanasktohaveleftovers sentuptomyroom.
“Hereyouare!”Fazioreappearsatmyelbow,handingmetheglassofwater “Thechampagneisdelicious,isn’tit?”
IlookathimsidewaysasIsipthewater,nodding.He’stheyoungestofthemenwhohavedancedandtalkedwithmesofar tonight probablyonlya few years older thanIam andIfindthatIdon’tprefer thatas muchas Iwouldhave thought.He seemsimmature,unlikeMattiasandsomeoftheothermenthatI’vedancedwith,andIfindmyselfhopingthatmyfatherwill not takeFaziouponhisoffer.
Asthenightwearson,IrealizeMattiaswasright there’snochancethathe’llgetanothermomentwithme I’mhandedoff to anincreasinglydizzyingparade ofmen, enoughthat their features start to blur together after a while, some ofthe names driftingoutofmyhead AsidefromMattias,there’soneolderwidowernamedLeonardo,whoseemedpleasantandhandsome enough ifa bitstiffinhis manners and a mancalled Alexis, who was probablyinhis late twenties, and had a similarly respectfulairtotheothertwo.Noonewoulddaremanhandlemeinmyfather’shouse,ortouchmeinanywaythatborderedon inappropriate,butIcanfeelthedifferencebetweentheoneswhotreatmecarefully,andthosewholookatmeasiftheycan’t wait to own me for themselves. I try to remember the names of the ones who made me particularly uncomfortable, in the unlikelyeventthatmyfather does askmyopiniononanyofthem
WhenIfinallyhaveamomenttoescape,Isnatchit.Myfeetareaching,theroomisbeginningtofeelcloseandhot,andthe mingledscentsofsomanydifferentcolognesandperfumesandwarmbodiesarebeginningtogivemeaheadache Whenone dance ends and someone isn’t immediately there to claimme for another, instead of looking for Mattias, I give a longing glimpsetowardsthedoorsthatleadouttothegarden.Ican’tdenythatI’veenjoyedtheattention,butI’meagerforamomentto myself Icutaquickpaththroughtheguests,tryingtododgeanyonewhomightwantmyattentionbeforetheycanspeaktome, andslipoutsideintothecoolnightair.
It’slatefall,andchillyatnight IshiveralmostassoonasIstepoutontothecobblestonepath,butIkeepwalkinganyway, wantingtheprivacytocollectmyself.Ifeelmorethanalittleoverwhelmedbyitall.Eventhoughit’sfeltgoodtohavesomany meneagertomeetme,Ican’tshakethefeelingthatI’mbeingwatchedbysomeoneinparticular
You’re being watched by everyone. I tryto shrugoff the creepingfeelingthat curls around myspine, brushingit off as ridiculous.Thereisn’tapairofeyesintheroomthatisn’tmostlyfocusedonme that’sthepurposeofthenight.Ifitfeelslike someoneislookingatme,it’sbecause everyone is
Iwalkall the wayto the fountaininthe middle of the gardens a marble statue of a womandraped influtteringveils, standinginthemidstofthewaterwithcarvedfishesleapingallaroundher Waterspoutsfromherhandsandthefishes’mouths, splashingmerrily,andIturnmyfaceuptowardsthemoon,takingadeepbreathofthefresh,cleanair.Icanfeel abitofthe cool sprayofthe water as itsplashes intothe pool ofthe fountain,anditfeels goodonmyflushedskin GoodenoughthatI linger,hesitanttogobackinside.Myfeetache,andIthinkevenImighthavereachedthelimitofmyabilitytomakesmalltalk withmenIbarelyknow.
“MissFontana Outinthegardensallalonewithoutachaperone?Scandalous” Thevoicebehindmemakesa tskingsound,andIfreeze.Foramoment,IhavethefantasythatitmightbeMattias,hereto sneakthat moment that he promised to lookout for, teasingme withmore flirtatious banter But I know before I eventurn aroundthatit’snothisvoice.Theaccentisn’tasthick,or asrich.It’sthevoiceofsomeonewhogrew upelsewhere,whose Italian is muted by having been raised around American accents, American voices. I’ve talked with more than a few men tonightwhosoundjustlikethat.
ButwhenIturn,themaninfrontofmeisnooneIknow,andnooneI’vedancedwithorspokento.
He’stallandlean,withdarkblondhairanddeepblueeyes,almostblackinthedimlightofthegarden.He’shandsomeina sharp,chiseledkindofway,andhe’sstandingcasuallyinfrontofme,handsstuffedintohistailoredsuitpockets.
Somethingabouthimsetsoffanalarmwithinme,asortofinstinctivefearthatIthinkallwomenhavewhenfacedwitha potentiallydangerousman.Hehasn’tdoneanythingthreateningyet,nothingthatwouldmakemebelieveheintendsmeharm, buteverysenseIhaveisscreamingatmetogetawayfromhim,togobackinside “Ifyouwantadance,”Imanagestiffly,tryingtomaskmyfear,“thenjustgivemeamoment.YoucanfindmeassoonasIgo backtotheparty”
The manlaughs, a low, darksoundthatmakes the hair onthe backofmyneckrise. “I’mnotinterested ina dance, Miss Fontana,”hemurmurs.Ifeelthefearinmystomachhardenintoatightknot,achillwashingovermethathasnothingtodowith thenightair
Idraw myselfupstraighter,callingoneverybitofpoiseandarroganceIpossess as thedaughter ofDonFontana,aman bothrespected and feared, the head ofthe Family “It’s veryrude thatyouseemto know who Iam, and haven’tintroduced yourself,” Itell himas haughtilyas Ican.“Myfather is willingtoforgive some faults ina manwhowouldtrulycherishhis daughter,butIcan’timaginethatrudenessisoneofthem”
Truthfully,Idon’tthinkmyfatheractuallycaresifanyone cherishes me.Butitmattersmorewhatmightmakethismanstand down.
Hejustchucklesagain,hismouthquirkinginawrysmirk “I’llintroducemyselfintime, Lucia Butfornow ” Feartakesoverinthatmoment,whenIhearthewayhesaysmyname,whenIunderstandthatthismanwantssomethingthat hasnothingatalltodowiththepartyinside Hehasnointerestinthecareful stepsofthesocial nicetiesthatcanleadaman from one dance with me to saying I do in front of God and my father one of whom is considerably more immediately terrifyingthantheother,asIunderstandit.
Whoeverthismanis,he’shereto take somethingfromme. Isnatchupmyskirtinmyhands,preparingtodartaroundhim.ThemomentItry,hishandsnakesaroundmywaist,pulling meincloseragainsthissideashebacksmetowardsthefountain,hismouthclosetomyear “Ohno,Lucia,”hemurmurs,hisbreathwarmagainstmyskin,hishandfirmlyagainstthesmallofmybackinawaythatno othermantonighthasdaredtoholdme “You’renotgoinganywhere, principessa Exceptforwhere I choosetotakeyou”
LUCIA
I’veneverknownfearbefore.Notlikethis.
I’vebeen afraid,insmall ways thatpaledramaticallywhencomparedtothis moment Adogthatgrowledatmeas a child, a turned ankle ona flightofstairs, a particularlyrebellious horse backinthe days whenIwas focused onriding lessons as myprimaryhobby All things thatmade me afraidfor myownsafety,inways thatInaivelythoughtwouldbe the worstfearIwouldeverexperience.
Noneofitcancomparetothis.
The man holding me wrenches my hair back, twisting his hand against my scalp His fingers slide over my cheekbone gently,acruelmockeryofthepainfulgripholdingmeinplace.AndIknow,tothedepthsofmysinkingsoul,thatI’vestumbled intosomethingterrible Ifeel fear like nothingI’ve ever experiencedwashover me,coldandclawing,somethingthatcould onlyadequatelybe called terror. Awave ofnausea washes over me, and Iwantto struggle, butI’mnotsure thatI can any longer I’mpastthepointoffighting,tooafraidtotrytogetaway Iwasafooltoevercomeoutintothegardensatall.
I should have stayed inside. Where it’s brightly lit, warm, and safe
Buthow could Ihave known? How could Ihave had anyidea thatthis kind ofdanger awaited me justbehind myown home?
Idon’tevenknowwhothismanis
Whenhekissesmycheek,Istiffen.There’ssomethingdisgustinglygentleaboutthegesturewhencomparedwithhistight griponmyhair,alover’s caress whileheholds melikeacriminal.As his mouthdrags over myskin,as thefeelingwashes overme,Ifeelsomethingelse,too.Somethingaswhollyunfamiliarasthestrengthofthefear.
Excitement.
No one has ever touched me like this There’s never beena manwho dared to touchme atall I’ve beenkeptcarefully guarded,lockedawayfromanyonewhomighttry.Andtonight
Myfatherwaswatching Hisguardswerewatching Noonewhowantedtohaveahopeofleavingthepartyinonepiece, let alone with the possibility of my hand in marriage, would have dared to handle me with anything other than the utmost respect.
ThismanistouchingmeasifI’malreadyhis.Asifheownsmetohandleashepleases.Andasroughashistouchis,as muchdangerasIknowI’min,there’sacertainstrangethrillthatleavesmefeelingflushedandhotashepresseshismouthto thecornerofmine Ashiverrunsthroughme,andIfeelhimsmileagainsttheedgeofmylips
You will be mine.
IknowIhavetogetfreeofhimbeforehehurtsme
Thepromiseofviolenceisalreadythere hishandonmythroat,inmy hair,lettingmeknowthedangerthatI’min.IfIcanjustgetbackintothehouse
Inmyperiphery,Icanseetheglowofthegardenlamps.Furtherback ahundredyards,maybemore isthewarmlightof themansion,thesoftstringmusic,thepromiseofthefuturethat’sbeenlaidoutformeaslongasIcanremember Afuturethat I’vealwaystakenforgranteduntilrightnow,whenit’sonthevergeofbeingtakenaway.
TheonlythingIcanthinkoftodoisscream
I try to wrench out of his grasp, tears springing to my eyes fromthe burning pain in my scalp. His hand was already crushingthepinsagainstit,butnowIfeelasifmyhairwilltearawayinhisgrasp Ican’tbringmyselftocare Iactentirelyon instinct,thrashingagainsthimtoscream andthenhishandpressesheavilyagainstmymouth,mufflingthecryashecursesunderhisbreath.
“Youcantrytofightallyoulikerightnow,little principessa,”hemurmursasheletsgoofmyhair.Hisbodyblocksany chanceofmyescape,evenwithhisgrasparoundmywaistandinmyhairgone.Hisfingerspressintomycheeks,hollowing themasIhearhimfumbleforsomething,andItrytosuckinabreaththroughmynose Thestruggletobreatheisterrifying,and theonlythingthatkeepsmefromcompletelymeltingintopanicisthethoughtthatifhetrulywantedmedead,hewouldhave killedmebynow
“There’snoescapingme,”hehisses,andIfeelthehandovermymouthsuddenlyyankmyheadtooneside.IgaspasIfeel asudden,sharpprickinthesideofmyneck “Therenow,”hemurmurs,hishandslidingtocupmyface,thumbstrokingalong mycheekboneinastrangelytendergesture.“Youcanstopfighting.There’snousenow.”
Iopenmymouthtotrytoscreamagain,butasuddenfogginesswashesoverme,asifit’shardtothinkclearly.Ican’tquite processwhathe’ssaying,andIlookupathim,anumbterrorwashingovermeasIfeelmylimbsstarttogrowheavy I want to trytotwistaway,totakeadvantageofthismomentwherehe’snolongerholdingmeastightlyashewas,butIcan’tseemto move Ifeel mybodystarttoslumpagainsthis,andthe lastthingIsee as everythingbegins toswimaroundme is the slow, satisfiedsmilethatcreepsacrosshishandsomeface.
Iknow,then,thatnooneisgoingtosaveme
There’s no way to tell how much time has passed before I come back to consciousness I wake up to the feeling of somethingjoltingbeneathme,andIsuckinabreath,tryingtopushmyselfup.It’sdarkallaround,andIfeelleatherunderneath myhands I’mnotrestrainedinanyway,whichfeelslikearelief,but
Myeyesfeel sticky,andmymouthisdryascotton.Myentirebodystill feelssluggish,asifwhatever theblondmandid hasn’tentirelywornoff,andIrealize,somewheredimlyinthebackofmymind,thatImusthavebeendrugged.Numbly,Iraise myhand to the spotonmyneckwhere Ifeltthe prick. There’s nothingthere now buta faintsoreness, and Iclose myeyes, tryingtobreathebeforeIpanic.
In and out In and out
I’mjoltedagain,andIsitup,swallowingconvulsivelyagainstthedrynessinmymouth.Ittakesamomentformetopush myselfupagainstthebackoftheseat Ifeelpinsandneedlesrushthroughmyarmsandlegsintomyhandsandfeet,fingersand toes,asmybloodstartstocirculateproperlyagain.Thatsenseofpanicfillsmeoncemore,andIsqueezemyeyestightlyshut, tryingnottoburstintotears.
What do I do? IthinkI’msupposedtotrytofigureoutwhereIam whereImightbegoing butitfeelsimpossible.I’m nota tough, scrappykind ofgirl notthe kind who pieces together her situationand starts planningher escape. I’ve barely everevenbeenoutsideofthewallsofmyfather’smansion TheonlythingIcanthinkofrightnowistheobvious thatImust beinacar.Itrytofocusonthat,ontheleatherseatbeneathmyhandsandthecarpetundermybaretoes,themovementofthe vehicle,andtheveryfaintglowofmoonlightthatIcanseethroughtheheavilytintedwindows
I’m in a car. I’ve lost my shoes. I’m still wearing my dress. I smoothmyhands over the embroidered satinand lace, seekingsomecomfort.Myscalpaches,andmythroatfeelsslightlybruised,butnootherpartofmybody hurts,notinanyway thatsuggestshehurtmefurtherafterIwasknockedout
Irememberwhathesaidaboutdoingthingsproperly,andacoldshiverrunsthroughme.Idon’tunderstandwhathemeant bythat,butitfeltverymuchasifitweretheonlythingpreventinghimfromhurtingmemorethanhedid orbytakingwhathe musthavewanted.Ican’tpretendthatIunderstandmaledesire,orthatIknowthesignsofit,butIthoughtIsawsomethingin hiseyesbeyondjustanger
Ithink thoughIdon’treallyknowwhatitlookslike thatIsawlust.
Slidingcarefullytowards the window, I tryto peer out of it. I can’t see anythinginanydetail it’s fullydark, and the moonlightisn’tenoughtopickoutanydetails Pressingmyfaceveryclosetotheglass,Ilookforotherestates somesignthat wearen’tasfaroutasIthinkwemightbe,butthere’snothingthatIcansaywithanycertaintythatIsee.
MyheartsinksasIflopbackagainsttheseat,tryingtokeepcalm WhereverI’mbeingtaken,he’sgonetogreatlengthsto getmethere. He could have killed me in the garden if he wanted to, Itell myself,twistingmyhandstogether inmylapasI pickattheembroideryonmyskirt There’s a reason I’m still alive There must be
Bitbybit, Ifeel the lingeringeffects ofthe drugstartto fade. Mybodystarts to feel like myownagain;mymind feels clearer, sharper. The pins and needles disappear, and ifanything, the interior ofthe car starts to feel too warm. One ofthe flowersonmyskirtisshreddednow,bitsoflacescatteredacrossmyskirtfrommyanxiety Apartofmewantstoknowwhat willhappenwhenthecarcomestoastop,justsothatIcangetitoverwith.Butanother,morefrightenedpartofmealsowants thedrivetogoonforever Itrytoimaginethatthecaristakingmesomewhereelse,somewherefarawayfromtheblondman, butIknowthat’safoolishhope.
WhereverI’mgoing,hewillbethere.Idon’tbelieve,evenforamoment,thathedidallofthisforsomeoneelse.
Atlast,Ifeel the car slowing.The darkness outside ofthe tintedwindows starts tobrightena little,andIpress myface
againsttheglassagain,lookingforcluesastowhereImightbe.Iseetreesalongthesideofthewindingroadthatthecarhas turnedonto,darkshapessilhouettedagainstthemoonlight,talllampsinterspersedbetweenthem.MystomachknotsasIrealize thatwemustbeheadingtowardsadifferentestate Thisfeelslikeadriveway,andafewminuteslater,IknowIwasright
Thecarpullsintoacourtyard,thestatueinthecenter,shrubberyaroundit,andtheloomingshapeofthemansionatoneend, allonlyvaguelyvisible,likeflickeringshapesinadream Mypulsequickens,myheartbeatinghardinmychest,andIfeelthat coldwashoffearagain.
Whateveriswaitingforme,it’sundoubtedlyinthatmansion I’llfindoutwhyI’vebeentaken,soonerorlater Idon’tknowwhichIwouldprefer,honestly.
BeforeIcanpullawayfromtheglass,thedooropenssuddenly,andInearlytoppleout.Astronghandgrabsmyarm,andI lookupatatall,black-uniformedman,mycheeksflushingwithembarrassment Hedoesn’tsayawordashehelpsmeoutof thecar,andIswallowhard,feelingthatwaveoffearagain.Hisfaceisimpassive,withoutahintofanythingthatmightgiveme aclueastowhat’sgoingon Ifheknowsanything,orifhehasanyopinionsabouthavingbroughtabarefootgirlinaballgown tohisemployer’smansion,Ican’treadthemonhisface.
“AmIsupposedtogointhere?”Myvoiceisaraspysqueak,andIlooktowardstheterracottamansion,fearrootingmeto thespot.
“I’vejustbeentoldtobringyouhere.”Hisvoiceisflat,andIturnbacktofacehim,desperationwellingupinme. “Youcouldtakemeback,”Iplead “Idon’tknowifyourealizewhereyoutookmefrom myfatherisDonFontana He’ll payyouanythingyouwantifyoureturnmetohimnow.Please Ipromisehe’llrewardyou ”
Foramoment,IalmostthinkIseehimconsiderit Butalmostasquickly,heshakeshishead
“Notworththecost,miss.”Thedriverturnsaway,slidingbackintothecar.Thefinalityofhiswords,theideathatanything myfathercouldgivehimwouldn’toutweighwhatthisothermanmightdo,sendsachillofpureterrorthroughme.Whoisthis person?
Theloosestonesandgravelofthecourtyardbiteintomybarefeet,andIwonder,foramoment,ifIshouldsimplyrun.IfI shouldtakemychanceswithwhateverisoutbeyondthosetrees,whereverweare,insteadofwalkingintothetrapthat’sbeen laidforme.
BeforeIcandecide,theheavyfrontdoor ofthemansionopens,andatall maninadarksuitsteps out,silhouettedinthe lightofthedoorway.
“Don’t stand there all night,” he says sharply, his voice cutting through the considerable space between us, as thickly accentedasmyfather’s.Hecouldalmost be myfather,ifIsquint,thoughhishairismorewhitethangrey,andhedoesn’thave myfather’sbearing.I’vegrownupallmylifewithstaff,andIknowthedifferencebetweentheemployersandtheemployed.If Ihadtoguess,thismanrunsthehouseholdforwhoeveritisthatownsit “Everyoneiswaitingonyou”
What? Istare athiminconfusion, still notmoving, and Isee his forehead crease withannoyance evenfromwhere I’m standing “Miss” His voice is sharp and cold, withoutthe slightestcompassion Idon’tgetthe impressionthathe feels any sympathyforme and why would he?Idoubtthemanwhokidnappedmeisanykinder tohisstaffthanhewastome,andI doubtthey’llcareaboutthefateofapamperedandspoileddaughterofthemafia.
“You don’t want me to have to get security to bring you in” There’s the slightest hint of softness to his voice then, a warningmeantto letme know thatas bad as things feel rightnow, theycould still getworse. It’s whatpropels me further, makes me walktowards the steps leadinguptothe frontdoor as the courtyardstones bite intomyfeet The night’s chill has gottendeeper,andtheskinacrossmychestandarmsprickles,myfingersandtoesbeginningtonumbagainfromstandingout here
At least inside, it’s probably warm.
It’sallIcandonottocryasIwalkupthesteps.Icanfeelmylipsquiveringandmyeyesburning,andIclenchmyhands intofistsinthefabricofmyskirt Thewhite-hairedman’sfaceisasimpassiveasthedriver’s,andhesimplygesturestowards theopendoor.“Goonin,”hesayscalmly,andIlookathim,everythinginsideofmerebellingagainsttheideaofwalkinginto thathouse
“Please,” Iwhisper, valiantlyhopingthatone personmightbe willingto help. “Please don’tdo this. Idon’twantto be here I’vebeenkidnapped Pleasehelpme Myfather ”
Themanlooksatmesternly,almostasifhe’schastisingme.“Iknowwhoyourfatheris,MissFontana.Itchangesnothing. Pleasegoinside.”
“No!”Igaspout,takingastepback Thisisanightmare Ithastobe Noneofitmakessense “Youdon’tunderstand I’m beingforced ”
“Iunderstandperfectly,miss Pleasedon’tmakeascene I’msureyouknowhowinappropriatethatwouldbe”Thewhitehairedmangesturestowardsthedooragain,hismouthpinchedwithdisapproval.“Goinside,MissFontana.”
I realize, with a wave of crushing hopelessness, that he’s not going to help me. That he doesn’t care or if he does, whateverordershe’sbeengivenfaroutweighit.There’snochancethatanyonehereisgoingtobetraytheiremployerandhelp meescape.
Ibitemyliphard,forcingmyselftotakethenextfewstepsintothemansion’sinterior.
Istepintoagrandfoyer thefloormarbleveinedwithsilver,theceilingshighandvaulted.It’sreminiscentofthefoyerin myownhome notquiteaselegant,butclose It’swell-lit,andIseethatitopensintoalargemarble-flooredentrywayonthe mainfloor ofthehouse,alargestaircasetoeither side,leadinguptothesecondfloor.Thereareother rooms ahead,andon eithersideofme,thedoorsallclosedwithnosignofwhatmightbebehindthem Thehouseisquietandstill,andthewhitehairedmanwalksuptostandnexttome,gesturingtowardsthestairs.
“Followme,”hesayscalmly,andwalkstowardsthestaircaseontheleft There’snoquestionofwhetherIwillornot,only thatI’llfollowthecommand acommandgivenbyamanwhoiscertainlylowerinstationthanIam.Itfeelshardtobelieve thatearliertonight,IfeltliketheclosestthingtoaprincessIcouldimaginebeing andnowI’mstandinghereshiveringandon thevergeoftearsinastrangehome,compelledtofollowthismanupstairstoanunknownfate
IthinkofhowIcomparedmydresstoCinderella’searlier,andalmostlaugh,pressingmyknucklesagainstmylipstostifle it Areverse Cinderella, maybe, IthinkasIfollowthewhite-hairedmanupthestairs
Wegouptothesecondfloor,andIfollowhimdownalonghallwaylinedwithframedart.Hestopsinfrontofalargedoor near the end,andopens it,gesturingfor me tostepinside “Whenyou’re finished,” he says calmly,“come backdowntothe mainfloor.”
“What then?” I force the words out frombetweenmyshakinglips, and he looks backat me, not a trace of that hint of softnessthatIheardinhiscraggyface
“That’snotformetosay.”Hegesturestowardsthedooragain.“Goon,miss.”
IknowIhavenootherchoice Iremembertheblondmaninthegardentellingmethattherewasnopointinfighting,andit makesmewanttocrumpleintohystericallaughter orsobs.I’mnotsurewhich.Ihavenowayoutofthis.
SoIwalkforwardintotheroom.Ihearthedoorshutbehindme,andIlookaround,tryingtomakesenseofwhereIam. It’sabedroom averynicelydecoratedone.It’sfullyfurnished awardrobe,vanity,desk,andbed alldoneinhuesof softpinkandgold,butit’snotthedecorthatcatchesmyeye.It’stheuniformedmaidstandingattheedgeofthebed andthe whitedressspreadacrossit
“Ohno.”Thewordscomeoutinawhisper,andIfeelmyselfstartingtoshakemyhead.Ipressahandtomymouth,backing uptothedoor,andIfumblefortheknob Ican’tpretendthatwhatI’mseeingisanythingotherthanwhatitis awhitegown everybitaselegantandwell-madeastheoneI’mwearing,theskirtstiffwithembroideryandseedpearls,adrapeoftullelaid outnexttoit. You will be mine.Therealityofwhat’shappeningherehitsmefullforce,andmyeyeswellupwithtears.
Thedoorislocked.“No!” Icryouttheword,yankingattheknob,turningandflingingmyselfatthedoorasIstarttobang onitwithonefist.AlltheterrorthatItriedtokeepatbayinthecarcomesrushingup,chokingmeassurelyastheblondman’s handdidinthegarden,bringinghottearstomyeyes “No, no, no ”
“Miss.”There’s awarm,gentlehandonmyshoulder,andIspinaroundtoseeadark-hairedwomaninamaid’s uniform standingthere,herhazeleyeswide She’swearingafitted,knee-lengthblackdress,herhaircarefullypinnedback,herbearing tenseasshelooksatme.“You’regoingtohurtyourself.Please,justcomewithme.”
MyhandalreadyacheswhereI’dpoundeditagainstthedoor.Iblinkather,tryingtothinkpastwhatfeelslikeanalmost animalfear Ineedtobecalm,rational,ifI’mgoingtofindsomewayoutofthis butitfeelsasifthere is nowayout I’mnot evenentirelysure what it is, except that the gown on the bed is undoubtedly a wedding dress, and what’s waiting for me downstairsisundoubtedlyaforcedmarriage
Someone has decided to usurp my father’s choice and make it for him. Someone has decided to take me as his bride, insteadofmakinganoffer Andthatpersonhasleftnoroomforerror,noroomforquestions,noroomformetofindawayout “WhatamIsupposedtodo?”Itcomesoutasawhisper,asIstare,terrified,atthemaid.
She takes a step back, her hands folded infrontofher. “I’mCeleste,” she offers, her face and voice bothverysoftand calm “I’vebeentoldI’mtheonemeanttotendtoyou,hereinthishouse Yourpersonalmaid”
Something about that calms me a little, oddly enough it’s something I understand, at least. I’ve always had a maid assignedtomeathome,sometimesmorethanone,alongwithallofthetutorsandteacherswhohavewoundtheirwaythrough mylife.
“Doyouknowwhat’sgoingtohappentome?”Iwhisper,wishingthewordsdidn’tsoundaschokedastheydo Ican’thide thatI’monthevergeoftears.“Who ”
“I’mnotallowedtosay,miss,”Celestesayssoftly.“You’llfindoutmostoftheanswerswhenyougodownstairs,Iexpect. ButIwastoldassoonasyouwerebroughtupheretodrawyouabath Which,ifyoupromiseyouwon’thurtyourselfbanging onthatdoor,I’llgoaheadanddoitnow.”Shehesitatesforamoment,asifshe’snotsuresheshouldcontinue.“Itwon’thelp,” shesaysfinally,hermouthturningdownwardsalittleatthecorners “It’llonlycauseproblems Itwouldbebetterifyou ” “IfIwhat?”Angerrisesupinme,asharpcounterpointtothefear.“Stoppedfighting?Are you reallygoingtotellmethat, too?”
Celestedoesn’tflinchback. She must be used to being snapped at, Ithink,andinstantlyfeelregret.“I’msorry,”Imurmur, andshenods.
“No, I’mnotgoingto tell youthat,” she says quietly. “Butit will make things worse. It’s justbestthatyouknow that, I think.”
Webothlookateachotherforalongmoment,andthenCelesteturnsaway “I’mgoingtodrawyourbath I’llhelpyouout of the dress while the tub fills. Just sit there.” She motions to the vanity, her voice kind. She undoubtedly knows that she shouldn’tbetellingmewhattodo,butIthink,fromthewayshesaysit,thatshealsoknowsIneedsomeonetohelpmeputone footinfrontoftheotherrightnow.
Idoasshesuggests,sinkingdownontothevelvettuftedchairinfrontofthevanity Thefacethatstaresbackatmeinthe mirrorisashock Ilookpale,mymakeupsmudged,myoncecarefullystyledhairamess.Thecurlsaretangled,thejeweled pinsthatdidn’tfall outaskew.Myeyesarered-rimmed,andIreachup,touchingonedanglingearring.Theybelongedtomy mother, longago, a stringofround diamonds and teardrop sapphires ona delicate gold chaindanglingfromeither ear My father requested that I wear only minimal jewelry tonight, to let my beauty and the exquisitely crafted dress speak for themselves TheonlyotherjewelryI’mwearingisabraceletthatmatchestheearrings,andabandofmarquise-cutsapphires onmyrighthand.Allofitbelongedtomymother,awomanIbarelyremember.
Ihavenoideawhathermarriagetomyfatherwaslike Idon’tknowifshewaswillingornot,ifhecaredforherornot butIcanimaginethatitwasn’tlike this.Iknowshewasn’tkidnappedandcartedawaytosomeotherstrangeestate,andthen preparedinthedeadofnightforaweddingtoamanshedidn’tknow.
“Miss”Celesteisstandinginthedoorwayofthebathroom,her expressionstill calmandplacid Itcalmsmesomewhat, althoughitdoesn’ttakeawaytheicyfearinthepitofmystomach.“I’llhelpyououtofyourdress,ifthat’salright.”
Nothing is alright, Iwanttoscream ButIjustnod,pluckingthepinsoutofmyhairandlayingtheminacarefullineonthe dresser. My fingers shake as I undo the clasps of my jewelry, laying the earrings, bracelet, and ring next to the pins, the methodicalnatureofitgivingmesomethingtofocuson.Iwonderifthey’llstillbeherewhenIcomeout,orifsomeonewill takethemaway.If,forsomereason,I’mgoingtobeallowednoremindersofmylifebeforetonight.
Icansee the steamstartingto wreathe outofthe bathroomdoor, the promise ofa hotbathonthe other side. Istand up, crossingtheroomtowhereCelesteiswaiting,drawinginalongbreath Bytheendofthenight,Isuspect,Iwillbemarried. Andafterthat,Ihavenoideawhatcomesnext
LUCIA
Celestequicklyhelpsmeoutofmydress,drapingitoveranearbychair.Idon’taskherwhatwillbedonewithit Idon’t thinkIwanttoknowtheanswer Itwasmeantforthebestnightofmylife,andit’sturnedouttobetheworst
The worst so far, Ithinkgrimly.IwraponearmovermybreastsasCelestebacksoutoftheroom,lettingmeslipout ofmyunderwear and into the steamingtub inprivate “Everythingyouneed is onthe shelfnextto the tub,” she says as she ducksout.“I’llbewaitingforyouwhenyou’refinished.”
Shedoesn’ttellmeifthere’satimelimitonhowlongI’mallowedtostayinthebath.Isinkintothehotwater,realizingasI dothatCelesteaddedanalmond-scentedbathoil,andIletoutagaspofpleasureasthewaterclosesoverme Theheatisjust thissideofbearable,almost too hot,butaftertheeveningI’vehad,itfeelsgood.Iwasalreadybeginningtobesorefromso muchdancingbeforetheawfuleventsofthegarden,andIhissasthehotwatertouchesthesmallblistersonmyfeet Evenso,it feelsblissful onmyarchesandtoesafterhavingthemcrammedintohighheelsforsolong,andthenwalkingbarefootacross thecourtyard
Iclosemyeyes,sinkingdeeperintothewater.ItrytoimaginethatifIpretendthisisallanightmare,ifIjustlietherein silencelongenough,itwillallgoaway.Butitdoesn’thelp.I’veneverlearnedtolosemyselfinfantasies;Ineverneededto. Mylifehasalwaysbeenrarefiedenoughasitwas It’sonlynowthatIhavetofaceabrutalrealityforthefirsttime,andIdon’t knowhowtoescape,evenforamomentintomymind.
Despiteeverything,IstarttofeelmorerelaxedasIliethereinthehotwater Afterseveralminutestickby,Ireachforone ofthesoftwashclothsstackedbythetub,latheringitwiththehoney-scentedgelinasmallcrystalcontainerontheshelf.Iscrub awayatmyskin,washingawaythefeelingofbeingtrappedinthatcarasbestasIcan,thefeelingofthatman’shandsonme.
His hands are going to be on me again before the end of the night.
Tearswell abruptlyinmyeyes,fasterthanIcanstopthem.Idragmykneesuptomychest,pressingmyforeheadagainst them,feelingthehottearsdripdownontomyskin OnceIstarttoletmyselfcry,Ican’tstop,myentirebodyshudderingwith wrackingsobs.I’mcryingsohardthatIdon’thearthedooropen,orCeleste’ssoftfootstepsuntilshe’sstandingalmostnextto mewhenshespeaks
“Youcan’tcry,miss,”shemurmurs.“He’llbeupsetifyoulooklikeyou’vebeencrying.Hewantsyoutolookperfectfor your ”Shestopswithasmallgasp,herhandcoveringhermouth.“Ohno,miss.Yourhair ”
“Whataboutmyhair?”Itouchit,realizingtoolatethatit’ssoakedthrough,andanyofthestylingthatwasdoneformyparty isentirelygone.“Oh ”
“We’re goingto have to redo itall” Celeste’s voice quivers, justa little “Here,” she says quickly, openingone ofthe cabinetsabovetheglassbowl-shapedsink.“Takeyourmakeupoff,miss.We’llhavetofixitall,sohewon’tseeyou’vebeen crying Youneedtobeperfectfor ”
“Formywedding?”Thewordscomeoutthicklythroughthetears,heavywithsarcasm.“Thisallhappenedsofast.Ican’t Ican’t ” Celesteissilentforalongmoment,asifshe’sweighingwhatsheshouldorshouldn’tsay “Hewon’tgiveyouachoice,” she says finally,her voice verysoft.“Butyoushouldn’tkeephimwaitingtoolong.” Her voice still quivers atthe end,as if she’s afraid,too,andIlookather pale face Itstrikes me,then,justhow terrible this manmustbe,toelicitsomuchfear in everyonearoundhim.
“We’lltakecareofit,miss,”Celestesays,takingabreath,andshegivesmeasmall,faintsmile Ifeelthetiniestflickerof comfort,afeelingofcamaraderie.ThesensethatImightnotbeentirelyalonehere. Idoasshesuggested,wipingoffwhatremainsofmymakeupfromtheparty.Celesteslipsoutofthebathroomoncemore
whileIfinishbathing,leavingathickrobehangingbesidethedoorforme IslipintoitonceI’vedriedoff,feelingtheslightest bitbetter onlytohaveallofthatfeelingdissolvewhenIseewhatelsehasbeenlaidoutonthebednexttotheweddingdress.
“He can’texpectme to wear that” Ilookatthe lingerie that’s beenlaid out a pair ofsheer white lace panties witha ribbonbowattheback,andamatchingsheerbustiermadeoutofillusionlace,boning,andribbon.“Thisis ” Ridiculous. A mockery I’mso stunned that I can’t get the words out, looking at what’s in front of me in horror It’s clear that this man, whoeverheis,planstoputmethroughallthepacesofaweddinginamatterofhours.What’sevenmorehorrifyingisthathe clearlyplannedforthis hadsomeonebuytheseitemsandsetthemasideforthisnight
Celeste gives me a helpless look, and I swallow hard. I have to find some way to get through this. I can feel myself trembling,andIdon’tknowhowI’mgoingtofindthecouragetomanageit.I’mnotbrave.I’veneverneededtobe.Andnow I’mfacingsomethingsohorriblethatIneverevenimagineditwaspossible
“Justslipintoit,andI’llhelpyouwiththelacing,”Celestesayscalmly.“I’llturnmybackifyoulike.”
“Please”Ireachforthelingeriewithshakinghands,feelingmorevulnerablethanIeverhaveinmylife Somethingabout theflimsy,sexylaceunderthingsmakesitallfeelmorerealandimmediate glaringevidencethatbeforethenightisover,this manplanstomakemehisinwaysthathehasabsolutelynorightto
IttakeseverythinginmenottoburstintotearsagainasIslipintothelingerie.Istandthereshivering,morefromfearthan cold,asIholdthebustieragainstmybreasts,glancingovertowhereCelestehastactfullyturnedherback.
“I’mgoodnow,”Iwhisper,andshewalkstowhereI’mstanding,nimblylacingupthebackofthelingerie
“Come sitdown.” She motions to a chair nextto the dresser, and hands me a small mirror. There’s a handful ofmakeup productsonthedressernexttome “I’lldoyourhair Hedoesn’twantmuchmakeuponyou,justalittlebitofmascaraandlip stain,maybe.‘Natural’waswhathesaid,butIdon’tthinkmenreallyknowthemeaningofthat.”Shegivesmeanotherofthose small,almostconspiratorialsmiles,andthistime,Ifeelsurethatit’smeanttoliftmyspirits.
IfIsurvivethenight,IwonderifImighthaveafriendhere.
Don’t get your hopes up, Itell myself. He might take you somewhere else after tonight. You might never see Celeste again, for precisely that reason Ican’timaginethatamanwhowouldgototheselengthstokidnapandmarrymewouldwant metohavefriends.
Inoticewithsomeironythatthemascaraiswaterproof,andIwonderalloveragainwhogotallofthesethings whohe taskedwithgettinglingerieandaweddingdressandmakeupandhairproducts.Itmakesmystomachturntothinkofsomeone inthisroom,carefullyarrangingtheitemsmeanttopreparemeformyhumiliation.IwonderifitwasCeleste,andifthat’swhy she’sbeingsokindtomenow outofguilt.
Icanfeelherhandsshakeasshestartstodrymyhair,takingitsectionbysection.“I’msorryifthisisrough,”shemurmurs, runningabrushthroughitasitdries “Weneedtohurry”Shereachesover,switchingonacurlingiron,andIhearherbreathe slowly,asifshe’stryingtocalmherselfdown.“He’salreadynotgoingtobehappytobekeptwaitingthislong.”
“Ithoughthewantedmetobeperfect,”Imurmursarcastically,unabletostopmyselfhereinprivatewithonlyCelesteto hear,andIhearhersuckinaquick,sharpbreath.
“Careful,miss,”shewhispers,herhandsgoingstillforamoment.“Youneedtobecareful.”
“Do you want to elaborate on that?” My voice quivers now, too, imagining what this man must be like Everyone has walkedoneggshells,refusingtohelpme,movingmequicklythroughallofthesestepsasifhemightjumpoutatthematany moment “Why ”
“Justtrustme,please.”Shetakesthecurlingiron,startingtowindsectionsarounditwithabriskefficiency.“Iknowit’sa lottoasktonight,miss Butyoudon’tknowhim Don’tmakehimangryifyoucanhelpit”
Thefear inher voiceis plain.Whoever this manis,hecontrols everyonearoundhimthroughfear,andnotrespect.He’s differentfrommyfatherinthatwayforcertain,itseems.
WhenCelesteisfinished,shepicksupthejeweledpinsthatIworeearliertonightandcarefullypinsbacksectionsofhair, keepingitartfullyoutofmyfacewhilestillleavingmostofitloose.Ilookatmyselfinthemirror adustingofblushtohide howpaleIam,alittlemascara,arosylipstain andIdon’trecognizemyreflection I’veneverseenmyselfsofrightened,so unsure.I’vespentmywholelifeknowingexactlywhoIwasandwhatmyfuturewassupposedtohold.
Celestegoestothebed,liftingthedress It’smadeoutofheavyreinforcedsilk,theskirtcoveredinembroideryandseed pearls,thebodicedippingintoav-shapewithillusionlacefillinginthegap.It’sstrapless,andasCelestehelpsmeintoit,I see thatbetweenthe bustier and the stiffness ofthe dress, Iactuallyhave cleavage init. The backofitlaces as well, and I knowwhy nooneknewmyexactmeasurements Thisway,thedresswasguaranteedtofitmewithsomeroomforerror Theworstpartaboutitall,asIlookinthemirrorwhileCelestefastensthedressandslipsthefingertip-lengthveilintomy freshlycurled hair, is that I lookbeautiful I looklike a bride The dress is full and princess-like without swallowingmy slenderframe,thedelicateembroideryenhancingmyownslenderfeaturesandmakingmelookevenmorefragileandinnocent. Ilooklikeaporcelainbridaldoll,andIknowthatmustbewhathewanted.Abeautiful,delicatethingthathecantoywithor breakashepleases.
“There.” Celeste ties the lacingina bow at the small of myback, her fingers restingthere brieflyas if to comfort me
slightly. Ido, ina way, feel slightlybetter the stiffheaviness ofthe dress feels almostlike armor, somethingto protectme fromthisman’sintentions,evenifbriefly.Ican’tletmyselfthinkaboutlater,whenitwillundeniablybeshuckedaway.“Ithink thejewelryyouworeherewillbeperfect,”sheadds,goingbacktothevanitytoretrieveit “Somethingoldandblue”
Thatdoesnothingtoreassureme.Ifanything,itmakesthisall feel likeevenmoreofamockeryasCelestehandsmethe earringsandringandhelpsmehookthebraceletaroundmywrist Iputthesesamejewelsonearliertonightformydebut,so muchhopeandexcitementwellinginsideofme,feelingasifIhadmymotherwithmeasItookthefirststepsintomynewadult life
Now,allIfeelisfearandahauntingsensationthatallofthatiscomingtoanend.AnyfutureImighthavehopedfor,any happinessthatImighthavehad.
Islipmyfeetintothewhite,jewel-toedheelssittingbythebed,andglanceatthedoor There’snothinglefttodobutgo downstairs alone. No bridal party, no one to give me awayto mygroom. He’s chosento take me instead, and the awful realityofthatiswhat’swaitingforme
Celestewalksovertothenightstandbythebed,wherethere’saphone onelikelyusedforcallingdowntowhateverstaff theoccupantoftheroommightneed Shetapsabuttonandsayssomethingquietlyintoit,quietenoughthatIcan’thearitover thepoundingofmyheartbeatinmyears.Iclenchmyhandsintofists,feelingmyshortnailsbiteintomypalms,andwaitforher tohangupthephone.
“Jamesiscomingupstairstoopenthedoor,”shesaysquietly “He’llescortyoudown”
James,asitturnsout,isthewhite-hairedmanwhoIguessedwasthehouseholdmanager.Heopensthedooramomentafter Ihearthekeyturninthelock,andlooksatmeexpectantly “Comealong,”hesaysinthatbored,almostimperioustonethathe used withme before, and Ifrownathim. For a moment, Ihave the urge to tell himthathe needs to speakto me withmore respect, but then it strikes me that I don’t know if that’s true. I have no idea what kind of respect I’ll command in this household,whenthemanwhointendstomarrymehasstartedoffourunionbykidnappingmeandbringingmehereinthedead ofnight.
The house is quietwhenIreachthe end ofthe staircase justbehind James, the skirtofmydress clenched inmyhands TherearenogueststhatIcansee,notrappingsofaweddingbeyondwhatI’vebeendressedin.I’mledtooneoftheclosed doorsonthemainfloor,andJamesknocksonit,waitinguntilhehearsavoicefrominsidetellhimtocomein
Irecognize the voice ofthe blond manfromthe garden, and a chill runs downmyspine. Myhands startto shake again, fingerscurlingintothefabricofmydress,andforamoment,Idon’tthinkI’llbeabletowalkthroughthedoor.Idon’tthinkI candothis.
IalsoknowIdon’thaveachoice.
When the door opens, I see what looks like a study inside not unlike the roommy father has at our home for himto unwind in or hold private meetings at night. There’s a large stone fireplace that’s lit, a heavy wooden desk near a large curtained window, and a tall bookshelfto one side ofthe room The floor is darkwood, mostlycovered withanintricately woventasseledrug.AsIhesitantlystepforward,Iseetwomenstandingbythefireplace.Oneistheblondman,changedintoa finer-lookingsuitthantheonehewaswearinginthegarden,hishairstyledsmoothlybackawayfromhisnowsmoothlycleanshaven face When he looks at me, his dark blue gaze lit by the fire, I see the glint of possessiveness there, the light of satisfactioninhiseyes.Itterrifiesme,makingmestopdeadonlyafewinchesintotheroom.
Theotherman,Isee,iswearingapriest’scassock,hisexpressiongrave Hesaysnothingastheblondmanstepstowards me,andIsuckinabreath,takingastepsharplybackwardasiftherewereanywhereIcouldrunto.
“Whereareyougoing,Lucia?”Apredatorysmilecurvestheblondman’sfulllips “Surelyyou’vefiguredoutbynowthat thereisn’tanyescapingthis.Andwhywouldyouwantto,afterall?You’veseenjustatasteofwhatI’mwillingtogiveyou.” Hegesturesattheweddingdress,theveilpinnedtomyhair.“Ididthisallforyou, principessa,tomakecertainyouhadthe perfectnight”
Asparkofanger ignitesinmychest,minglingwiththefear andgivingmejustenoughcouragetoanswer back.“Youdid this for you, ” Ihiss “To tryto give this mockeryofa weddingsome kind ofhintofrespectability” Ipress mylips tightly togethertotrytohidetheirtrembling,staringathim.“Thishasnothingtodowithmycomfortorhappiness.Ifitdid,youwould neverhavetakenmeawayatall”
“Well,eitherway.”Heshrugs,thatsmirkspreadingacrosshislips.“Itsoundednice,didn’tit?”
Iswallowhard,takinganotherstepback,awayfromhim,andtowardsthedoor.“What’syourname?”Idemand,stilldoing mybestto hold his gaze “Youcan’t youcan’tjust take me awayfrommyhome and marryme ifIdon’tevenknow your name!”Strictlyspeaking,Iknowthat’snottrue,butit’sallIhave.It’sallIcanthinkoftotrytofightbackagainstthis.
Hechuckles,alow,darksounddeepinhisthroat “AndreLeone,”hesayssmoothly,aseasilyasifhewerejustwaitingfor themomenthechosetotellme.“And you,LuciaFontana,aregoingtobemywife.Ifyouhaven’tfiguredthatoutalready,of course.” He adds thatlastwithanother laugh, as ifhe’s made a particularlygood joke. As ifanyofthis could possiblybe funny.
Andre Leone. Fearripplesthroughme,becauseIknowthatname.Notverywell,notwellenoughtoknoweverythingabout
him,butIlearnedhowtolistenwellenoughgrowingupinmyfather’shousetogetbitsandpiecesofinformationaboutwhat’s happeningintheworldoutsidethosefourwalls.Forinstance,Iknowthattwoyearsago,hebroughtamanbythatnametoone ofhisestates,keepinghimthereuntilhecoulddecidewhattodowithhim IknowthattheLeonefamilydidsomethingtoanger myfather, thoughIdon’tknow what. It’s notmuchto go offof, butit’s enoughto piece together thattonightis somehow his attemptatrecompenseforwhathappenedtohisfamily Thathe’susingmeasameanstogetbackatmyfatherforsomething Irememberhishandonmythroatinthegarden,thelookinhiseyeswhenIthoughthemightkillme,andtheterrorissoallconsumingthatIcan’tthinkrationallyaboutwhattodoanylonger
“No!”Ishakemyhead,backinguprapidlytowardsthedoor,theonlythoughtinmyheadto run.“Iwon’tmarryyou!I’m notgoingtoletyou no, no ”Iturntowardsthedoor,grabbingfortheknob,prayingthatitwon’tbelockedagain.It’snot, butIonlygetthedoorpartwayopenbeforeIfeelAndre’shandgripmyelbow,draggingmebackward,awayfromitandinto his arms as Ishriekand squirm. His arms go around me, trappingmine atmysides, one ofhis hands pressingbetweenmy shoulderbladesastheotherwindsintomyhair,holdingmeinplacesohecanwhisperintomyear Irealize,tomyhorror,as heholdsmeclose,thathe’s hard.Icanfeel himpressingagainstmythighthroughthelayers ofclothing,andIknow thatmy fearisexcitinghim Thechaseandcaptureareturninghimon allofthisisfulfillingafantasy,andI’mplayingrightintoit
“Youcan’tleave,”hebreathesintomyear,hisfingersslidingthroughmycarefullyarrangedcurls.“You’regoingtobemy wife,Lucia,andyou’regoingtohavemychild.There’snoescape.You’rethefirststepinmyrevenge,andnothingisgoingto takethatawayfromme”
He loosens his grip, turningme towards the priest, and Ilookatthe maninterror. “Please, ” Igasp out, wide-eyed and begging “Youhavetostopthis Youcan’tletthishappen Please,pleasehelpme ”
Isee,foramoment,aflashofsympathyinthepriest’sface.Ican’timaginethathehasnoqualmswiththis,thatthere’sno partofhimthatknows this is wrong.Butheshakes his head,ever soslightly,andIfeel thecrushingweightofhopelessness sinkdownonmeasIrealizethatthereisnoescape.
Nooneisgoingtohelpme.Nooneisgoingtosaveme.
“We’llkeepthisbrief”ThepriestlooksbetweenthetwoofusasAndreleadsmetostandinfrontofhim,hisgriponmy handtightasavise.“Doyou,AndreMarcoLeone,takethiswomantobeyourlawfullyweddedwife?”
Andrenodssharply “Ido”
Thepriestlooks atme,his expressionunreadable.“Anddoyou,LuciaElysiaFontana,takethis mantobeyour lawfully weddedhusband?”
What happens if I say no? I lookbetweenAndre and the priest, wantingto laughat it all, to point out the lackof any meaningfulvows,toprotest.Andre’sgriponmyfingerstightens,andIknowthat,somehow,he’llforcemyagreement.Idon’t knowhow butIfeelsurethatIdon’twanttofindout
“Thiswon’tholdup,”Inearlyspitathim,fearandangerwarringforsupremacyasIstruggletokeepsomesmallholdon myemotions If I fall apart now, I don’t know how I’ll make it throughthe night “This can’t be legal Aforced marriage, withoutwitnesses ”
“Itwillonceit’sbeenconsummated.”Andresmilescoldlyatme.“Onceyou’renolongeravirgin,you’reworthlesstoyour family,dear Lucia Withthe contractsigned,the blessingofthe goodFather here,andyour virginbloodonour sheets,there willbenoarguingwiththesanctityofourmarriage.Wife.”
Hesaysthelastwordwithalascivioussneerthatmakesmeshudder Iflushredatthementionofconsummationinfrontof thepriest,buthebarelyseemstonotice,waitingpatientlyasAndreandIfaceoff.Andre’shandonminetightensevenmore, thesmallbonesinmyhandrubbingtogether,andIletoutawhimperofpain
“Icanmakethisfarworseforyou, principessa,”Andremurmurs.“AndnoteventhegoodmanofGodherewillstopmeif I’mforcedtouseothermeanstoextractthisvowfromyou.Wouldyoulikemetopunishyou,perhaps,infrontofhim?I’msure agoodspankingwouldteachyouyourproperplaceasmybride”
I’mnotwell-versedinreadingothers I’veneverhadtobe.Butthere’snodoubtthathemeansit.Myhandachesasifhe might snap the bones fromthe pressure of his grip, and I feel certain that he’ll hurt me more, if he has to That he would humiliatemeinfrontofthepriest,ifneedbe.
Iwon’tescapelikethis Notbyrefusingtosaythewords
“Ido,”Ichokeout,andthepainfulpressureonmyhandlessens.
The priestlooks relieved atmyacquiescence. “ThenIpronounce youhusband and wife. Youmaykiss your bride.” He stepstooneside,slidingadocumentoutoftheleatherfoliohewasholdingandsettingitonthedesk “AndthenIwill need youbothtosignthis.”
Andre looks atme, a satisfied smile curlinghis lips “What?” he murmurs, drawingme closer as he rests a hand onmy waist.“Don’tyouwanttokissme,mydarlingbride?”
IlookathimwithasmuchdefianceasIcanmuster,andhelaughs,thesoundlowandpredatory.“Alrightthen.”Heshrugs, raisinganeyebrow.“Afterall,whatIwantfromyoutonightdoesn’trequiremetokissyouatall.Ifyoupreferitthatway.”
“Itdoesn’tmatter,”Iwhisperdesperately.“Myfatherwillchallengethis.AndtheChurchwilllisten.He’stheheadofthe
mafia.Hehashishandsineverypocket,eventheirs.Youwon’tgetawaywiththis.”Ilookatthepriest,desperatefor some signthatI’mright.ThatnomatterwhatAndredoestome,there’ssomewaythatthiscanbechallenged.
Butthepriest’sfaceisutterlyblank Hemotionstothepaperonthedesk,andIgettheimpressionthathewantstobedone withthisandonhiswayassoonaspossible.Andrestepsuptothedesk,signinghisnamewithaflourish,andIlooknumblyat thepieceofpaper IthinkofthenumberofstepsbetweenwhereI’mstandingandthefrontdoor,ofthesecurityguardsAndre musthavewhowouldcomeafterme,oftheutterfutilityoftryingtorun.Idon’tevenreallyknowwhereIam,orexactlyhow farIamfromhome
So Istep forward, next to mynew husband, and Isignthe paper too. Myhand shakes, sendingthe signature scrawling across the line, butitdoesn’tmatter. It’s notas ifI’ve ever beenasked to signanythingbefore. There’s no signature anyone couldcompareitto,toseeifitholdsup
“Verygood.”Andrelooksatthepriest.“Isthereanythingelseyouneedtomakeitofficial,Father?”
The priesthesitates, slidingthe paper backinto the folio, and for one wild moment, Ithinkthatmaybe he’s changed his mind.Thatmaybehe’sgoingtohelpmeafterall.
Butthenheshakeshishead “No,Mr Leone Ithinkthatwillbeall”
Ican’tfullydescribethewaymyheartsinksasIhearthat.Istarehelplesslyafterthepriestashewalksout,escortedaway byJames,whoisstandingjustoutside.IfeelmyfaceheatatthethoughtthatJamesheardmyscreamsandbeggingearlier,and grow hotter atthethoughtofwhatelsethestaffmighthear later Fear curdles inthepitofmystomach Will Andre hurt me? What will he do? Knowingnowthathetookmeoutofadesireforsomekindofrevenge,Ican’timaginewhathemighthavein storeformetonight
Theactoflosingmyvirginityisnerve-wrackingenough.Noonehasevertoldmehowitreallygoes,asidefromthemost basicofprinciples.I’vebeenkeptutterlyshelteredwhenitcomestosuchthings,andsomyweddingnightwouldhavebeen anxiety-inducingevenwiththesortofproperhusbandthatmyfatherwouldhavechosenforme.Butthis
Ican’tbreatheasAndreturnstolookatme.“I’vehalfamindtoputyouonyourkneesinfrontofthefireplaceandtakeyou there,” he murmurs, reachingup to brushhis thumb over mycheekbone “Butlike Isaid inthe garden, Iplanto do this all properly.Fortonight,atleast.Solet’sgoupstairs,darlingwife.”Thelastissaidwiththatsamesneeringcurlofhislipashis handpressesagainstmycheek,hisotherhandonmywaistashedrawsmecloser
“Ourmarriagebedshouldbereadyforus” Heguidesmetowardsthedoor,andInearlystumbleaswego.Myfeetfeelheavyandclumsy,myentirebodyisnumbwith fear. I’m married This man is my husband Noneofitfeelsreal.Ikeepwaitingtowakeup,torealizethatthiswasallsome horrible nightmare brought on by the overexcitement of my debut party that maybe I drank too much champagne and had strangedreams.ButasIwalkupthestairs,stepbystep,asAndreleadsmeuptothethirdfloor,Iknowthatnoneofthatistrue. Thisisn’tanightmare it’sreal AndIcan’tescapewhat’sabouttohappen
There’s a set of heavy wooden double doors directly in front of the third-floor landing, and Andre pushes themopen, gesturingformetowalkinside “Ourroom,”hesayswiththatsamesatisfiedsmile,asifheknowswhathe’smakingmefeel witheveryword.“Idohopeyoulikeit,Lucia.Thisisgoingtobeyourhomenow,afterall.”
Mystomachtwists as Istep inside. It’s a beautiful room one ofthe mostelegantlyappointed master’s suites I’ve ever seen Ithasalltheusualfurnishings,allmadeoutofheavydarkwood,andtherearemoreofthethicktapestriedrugscovering the gleamingwoodenfloor. The roomis dimlylitand smells faintlyofvanilla and sandalwood, and Ifeel another lurchof apprehension as I see that the duvet on the bed has been neatly folded back to expose the white sheet beneath There’s somethingfaintlyhorrifyingaboutthe idea thatsomeone prepared the bed for this, and Isuckina breathto tryto quell the nausea
“Let’sgettheseout,”Andremurmurs,pluckingatthejeweledpinsinmyhair.“Ithinkyou’lllookquitebeautifulwithyour hair entirelyloose as Ifuckyou.” He says itso casuallythatitjolts me, as he gathers theminone hand, settingthemonthe nightstandnexttothebed Andthen,asIstandtheretryingnottopanic,heturnsbacktolookatme “Soinnocent,”hebreathes, hisgazedarkeningasitsweepsoverme.“Andentirelymine.”
IwanttotellhimthatI’mnothis Thatsigningapieceofpaperandtakingmyvirginityagainstmywillcan’tmakemehis ButIknowit’snottrue.Itwill makemehis inallofthewaysthatmattertohim.
“Turnaround,”hedemands,andIobeywoodenly,wonderingwitheverymovementifthere’sanypurposetoresistingany ofit.IfIshouldeventry tofightback,orifit’sbettertojustallowhimwhathewants.
Ifeel hishandsslidearoundmywaist,grippingmepossessivelyforamomentbeforehisfingersshifttothelacingatthe baseofmyspine Ifeelhimtugattheribbons,looseningthemashespreadsthetwosidesofthedressapart,andIhavetofight againstthe urge tograbfor the topofthe bodice whenhe loosens itenoughfor ittostarttoslide down.Iknow itwill only makehimangry,soIforcemyselftokeepmyhandsatmysideswhenthedressslithersdownmywaistandhips,poolingintoa puddleofheavilyembroideredsilkatmyfeet.
Hottearsspringtomyeyes.Nomanhaseverseenmethisvulnerablebefore,standinghereinalmostnothing worse than nothing,really,becausewhatI’mwearingis meant tobearousing.Ifeelhiseyesonme,hishandbrushingagainstthebackof myneckashepushesmyhairtooneside,runningafingerdownmyspinetothetopofthelacedbustier.Hisotherhandslides
tothecurveofmyassinthelacypanties,squeezinglightly,andIhearhimgroan.
“God,youarefuckinggorgeous,”hemurmurs,his fingers teasingbeneaththeedgeofthepanties.“Andall mine.Noone elsehaseverseenthis”Hishandsgostillforamoment,andthenheturnsme,makingmenearlytripasItrytostepoutofthe highheels.“Andnooneelseeverwill. Fuck. ”
His eyes are dark with a vengeful lust that terrifies me His gaze sweeps over my breasts, down the sheer lace of the bustier,tothethinlacethatbarelyshieldsthespacebetweenmylegs.Hereachesup,slidinghishandsovermyshouldersand downmyarms,hiseyesgreedilyreturningtomycleavage I’mafraidtoreallylookathim,afraidtolookdownandseewhatI feltearlier thathe’shardandreadyforme.Thathe’sarousedbymyfearandtheknowledgeofwhathe’sabouttotakefrom me.
“Takeitoff,”hedemands,takingastepback “Thetoppartfirst”Hegesturestothebustier “I’msureyoucanmanageit Takeitoffforme.”
Asurgeofangerthat’sbecomingmoreandmorefamiliaraccompaniesthehotfeelingofshameandthetwistingsensation of fear poolinginmystomach. It’s not enoughfor himto kidnap me, to forciblymarryme, to strip me bare and take what shouldn’tbelongtohim Hehastomakemecomplicitinmyownhumiliation
“Doit,Lucia.”Hisvoiceisvelvetysmooth,butIcanhearthesteelbeneathit.“Iwouldn’tliketohavetopunishyouonour weddingnight.”
It’s not a threat Not one that I’mnot certain he’ll carry out, anyway The only thing that I’mnot sure about is that he wouldn’tlikeit.
I reachbehind myback, fumblingfor the ribbons of the bustier Theycome loose easily it’s lingerie, not a functional corset andIbitemylipasIloosenthem,tryingnottocry.Earliertonight,Ididn’tevenwantCelestetoseemenaked.Now Andrewillseeallofme,bareandvulnerableforhim,andthere’snothingIcandoaboutit.
“Slowly,”hemurmurs.Hisvoiceisthickwithlustfulanticipation,andit’shardertoholdbackthetears.Myfingersclingto theedgeofthebustier,notwantingtoletitgo,butIknowthatIdon’treallyhaveachoice.
Slowly,Iletitslidedownmybreasts Mynipplestighteninstantlydespitethewarmthoftheroom,andIseethesmirkthat curlshislips,asifthereactionisforhim.Iwanttotellhimthatit’snot,todefiantlyrefusetoallowhimtothinkthatIcould possiblyenjoyanypartofthis, butIcan’tmake mylips shape the words Ican’tdo anythingexceptnumblyletthe piece of lingeriefalltothefloortojoinmydress,andthenhookmyfingersintheedgeofthelacypanties.
“Alittleatatime. Yes ”Healmostgrowlsthelastword,andIcan’thelpbutnoticehisarousalnow.Theridgeofhiscock isthickandstrainingagainstthefrontofhissuittrousers,andIbitemyliptostifleagaspathowlargehelooks. How on earth is that going to fit inside of me? Mypulseflutters withfear atthethought,andIstall for amoment,thelaceclingingtomy hipbonesasIstarttoslowlyslipthepantiesoff
“Perfect,”hebreathesasthelacedipsbelowthetopofthedarkcurlsbetweenmythighs.“I’llhaveyoushaveformesoon enough Ipreferabarepussy”Hesaysitascasuallyasifwewerediscussingtheweather,hisgazefixedhungrilybetween mythighs.“Butfortonight,Iwantedyouentirelyasyouare.Innocentandnatural.”HenodsatwhereI’vestoppedagain,my handsshaking.“Takethemoff, principessa. ”
Thistime,Ican’tstopthetearswellinginmyeyesasIletmypantiesdroptothefloor I’mentirelynaked,baretohisgaze, andtremblingfromheadtotoe,andAndreislookingatmelikeI’mprey.Likehewantstodevourme.
He steps closer, and the shakingintensifies He reaches up, his fingers catchingmychininhis grasp, keepingme from turningawayasheclosesinonme.Iseethemomenthetiltshishead,whenhislipsaresoveryclosetomine,warmandfull.I knowhe’sgoingtokissme Myveryfirstkiss
“This is your first, isn’tit, principessa?” he murmurs. “The firstofeverything, tonight.” His fingers tightenonmychin whenIdon’timmediatelyrespond.“Haveyoubeenkissedbefore?”
Ishakemyheadwordlessly,tryingnottoletthetearsspillover IrememberwhatCelestesaid,thatcryingwouldmakehim angry,butI’mnotsurethat’strue.Apartofmethinkshemightlikeitmore ifIcried.
“Good,”hebreathes,andthenhismouthpressesagainstmine Iclosemyeyestightly,resistingthesensation.Idon’t want himtokissme,buthismouthisfirmandinsistent,thefeelingof lips against mine for the first time sparking something in me that’s unfamiliar and frightening My skin prickles, my pulse quickening, and I’msuddenlyevenmore acutelyaware ofthe factthathe’s still fullyclothed, while I’mentirelynaked. The pressureofhisfingersagainstmyjaw,hismouthonmine,itallheightensmysenses,andIfeelhisotherhandreachuptocup mybreast,histhumbflickingovermyhardenednipple
Idon’tknowwhatIexpectedoutoftonight.Forhimtofuckmeroughly,maybe hardandfast,tomakeitapunishment.To takeoutwhateverangerhefeltonmybody Iexpectedpain I’mnotsurethattherewon’tstillbesome Butashisfingersbrush overthecurveofmybreast,thumbpressingagainstthepeak,Ifeelsomethingdifferent. Thefirststirringsofpleasure.
No. No, no! Isqueeze myeyes tightlyshut, tensingeverymuscle inmybodyagainstit. Idon’t want to enjoythis. With anyoneelse,Iwouldhavebeengratefulforalittlepleasure,butnotwithhim.Notwhenhe’stakeneverythingthat’shappened
tonightbyforce.
Hishanddropstotheflatofmystomach,mywaist,myhip.Everycaressofhislong,aristocraticfingersovermysmooth skinsends more strange sensations ripplingthroughme, more uncertainty And thenhe dips his fingers betweenmylegs, his mouthskimmingfrommylipstomyjaw.Igorigid,fightingwhateversensationsarecomingnextwitheverythinginme,andI feelhimgoverystill
Andrepauses,pullingawayfromme,hisfingerswithdrawing.HelooksatmewithanexpressionthatIcan’tentirelyread, andforonewildmoment,Ihaveaflickerofhope
Maybe he’s changed his mind.
EvenasangryandhungryforrevengeasIam,Icanrecognizeonesimplefact.
IwantmorethanjustthisonenightwithLucia Justasitwasn’tenoughtotakeherlifeandenditthere,it’snotenough formetotakehervirginityandleaveitatthat.Iwanthertohavetoexistasmywife,tohavetobearmychild forherto havetotakepartinthedownfallofherownfamilyandtheriseofmine Iwantherfathertoknowthatshe’smine notjustfor onenight,butfortherestofherlife.
Ican’tdothatifIgenuinelyinjurehertonight.AndfromwhatIfeltinthebriefmomentwhenIslippedmyfingersbetween herlegs thetensioninherbodyandthecompleteunreadinessforanypartofme IriskdoingjustthatifItakeherasswiftly androughlyasIwantto.
I’vebeenravenousforhersincethemomentIcorneredherinthegarden since before that Thedesirehasbeensteadily growingsincethemomentIconceivedthisplan,anurturedfantasythatIhaveinfrontofmeatlast.Iwanttothrowherontothe bed and force myself inside of her, take her as roughly as I’ve imagined night after night with my hand around my cock, dreamingofthemomentwhenIwouldbreakLuciaFontanatomywill.
ButifIwanttoenjoymytoyformorethanonenight,Ican’tbreakitsoquickly.
I’llneedtorethinkmytacticsifIwanttoplayalongergamewithher
I can have all my fantasies in time, ItellmyselfasIsteptowardheragain.She’sshakinglikealeaf,herskinsopalethat thebitofblushsheappliedstandsoutstarklyagainsthercheekbones Herlightblueeyesarewetwithunshedtears,andshe lookslikeaporcelaindoll,sofragilethatwithjusttheslightesttouchshemightshatter.
Thethoughtgivesmeanew idea onejustassatisfyingastheideaoffuckingher hard,butinadifferentway. What if I make her shatter for me?
Ireachup,cuppingthesideofherfaceagaininmypalm.Icanfeeltheeffortthatittakesforhernottoflinchawayasshe looksatme,hergazewary I’vealreadygivenherplentyofreasonstonightnottotrustmytouch Mypalmitchesatthememory ofpressingitagainsther throat,thewayshesquirmed,the ideaofdoingthe sameas Iholdher downbeneathme.I want it, withavisceralsortofhungerthatmakesmycocktwitchandthrobagainstthetightfrontofmysuittrousers,butIforcemyself totouchhergentlyinstead.Ireachup,brushingalockofhairbackawayfromherface,andIkissheragain.
Ifeelhersuckinabreath,softandquick,whenmymouthtoucheshers.Herbodyisshakingsohardthatit’simpossibleto tell fearfromdesire,andIhearthesoftgaspsheletsoutwhenIrestmyhandsonherwaist,backingherslowlytowardsthe bed.ThethoughtthatIcouldmakeher want this,thatIcouldhearhercryoutmynameinpleasureinsteadoffearbytheendof thenight,thatIcouldhavethatmuchpower overher it’sapartofthefantasythatIhadn’tconsideredbefore Apossibility thatholdsmoremeritthanI’dstoppedtothinkabout.
“Onthe bed, principessa, ” Imurmur againsther mouthas her thighs hitthe backofthe mattress Her eyes are squeezed tightlyshut,asifshecanblockthisalloutifshejustdoesn’tlookatme,butIdon’tintendtolethermissamomentofwhatI plantodotoher.“Openyoureyesandlookatme,Lucia.”
She shudders, but slowly, her eyes flicker open She looks at me, her lower lip trembling “I I don’t ” She starts to whisper,andIpressafingertoherlips.
“Quiet, dolcezza ”Ibrushthefingeroverthebowofhermouth,feelinghertremblealloveragain Idon’tthinkit’sentirely fromfear.Noonehasevertouchedherlikethis noonehasevertouchedherat all,especiallynotaman.Whethershelikesit ornot,shecan’thelpfeelingsomething “Liebackonthebed,likeIasked”
It’snotsomuch asked as told,butIguessedcorrectlythatsayingthatinsteadmightencourageher toobey.Shenods,her lowerlipstilltrembling,andpushesherselfontothebed,squirmingbackwarduntilshe’slyingbackagainstthepillows.Fora
moment,allIcandoislookather allwavesofthickdarkhairandsmootholiveskin,herslenderbodyapictureofabsolute beautyassheliestherewaitingforme. Mine, mine, mine.Thewordsareasnarlinmyhead,mycockthrobbingwithanaching need thatIcanbarelywaitto satisfy Icanhave her however Iplease, whenever Ichoose The daughter ofDonFontana is mine,andthethrill ofitisbeyondanythingI’vefeltinmyentirelife.Ireachdown,pressingtheheel ofmyhandagainstmy cockto stave offmyovereager arousal Isee Lucia’s gaze flickdownwards, the wide-eyed fear thatfills her face whenshe getsaglimpseofmythick,strainingerection.
“All for you, principessa, ” Imurmur witha smirk, shruggingoffmysuitjacketand drapingitover the armofa nearby chair.“Butforthemoment,I’menjoyingsimplylookingatyou.Onceuponatime,havingamafiaprincesslikeyouinmybed, wedtome,wouldhavebeenmyright.”Atugofmytieanditloosens,saggingagainstmyshirtasIslipitoff.“Butyourfather tookthatrightfromme So,yousee,allI’vedoneisreclaimwhat’smine”
“Iwasneversupposedtobeyours.”Thewordscomeoutabreathyhiss,hardlyanythingtosparkfear,butasmallpartof meadmiresthenerveitmusthavetakenforhertosaythematall
“I’malmostimpressed.”Ireachformycufflinks,slippingthemfree.“You’renakedin my bed,yourbody mine for meto plunderhoweverIlike,assoonasIchoose,thespoilsofthisfirstvictory Andyetyou’vestillsomehowfoundthetenacityto talk back to me.” I set the cufflinks aside, reaching for the top button of my shirt. “I think you might deserve a reward, principessa.Formakingthenightmoreinteresting,ifnothingelse.”
“Idon’twantanythingfromyou”Hervoicecracks,butshemanagestoliftherchin,herhandspressedflatagainstthesheet oneithersideofher.Herthighsarepressedtightlytogether,butitdoesnothingtodetractfromtheviewinfrontofme.
“You’llwantthis”Istarttoundotheshirt,andIseehergazeflickdowndespiteherself AsmirkspreadsovermyfaceasI see her unwittinglywatchingme undress, her eyes skatingover the fine blond hair onmychest, the tattoos inked across my pectoralsandcurvingovermyribs.Iimagine,foramoment,herfingerstracingovermyskin,andmycockthrobswithadesire thatIhadn’tthoughttohave.
I don’t care if she touches me, Itellmyself,shruggingoutoftheshirtandlettingitdroptothefloor. I’m the one touching her Taking her Her desires have no part in this
Islidemybeltoutoftheloops,notmissingthewaysheflinchesatthesoundofleatherslidingthroughthefabric.Hergaze flickstomyzipper,andIseethewayshetensesinanticipationofmeundoingmypants butoutoffear,notdesire
I’m going to change that.
Slowly,Imoveontothebed,myhandsgrippingherankleslightly.Ifeelherinstantlyflinchback,andIslidethemupher calvesslowly,pressingoutwardswhenIreachherknees.“Openyourlegs, principessa,”Imurmur,myfingerspushingintothe soft fleshjust above. “There’s no point infightingthis. I will have you before tonight is over. Just give in, and it will be easier”
AsIspeak,Istrokethesoftskinofherlegs,andIfeeltheshiverthatgoesthroughher.Herlegscomeapartjustasliver, almostasifshedidn’tmeanforthemto,andItakefulladvantageofitasIopenthemwider,partingherforme
Thefirstsightofhersoft,pinkslitasherfoldspartmakesmycockthrobwithaneedthat’sclosetopain.Islidemyhands upherinnerthighs,openingherfurther,andwhenIlookup,Iseethathereyesaresqueezedtightlyshutagain.Islaptheinside ofherthighlightly,justenoughtosting,andIhearherwhimper
“Eyesonme, dolcezza,”Imurmur,myvoicelowandrasping.“IwantyoutowatchwhatIdotoyou.”
“No, please ”shewhispers,buthereyesopenanyway,wetandblue,asshelookshelplesslydownatmeasIspreadher wide.Her foldsarepinkandflushed,framedwiththedarkcurlsthatIplantodoawaywithsooner rather thanlater,butfor tonight,Iwantedherfreshanduntouched Iwantedallofherjustasoneofthoseotherundeserving mafiosos wouldhavehad her.
Hercheeksflushassheseesmelookingather,stainedwithembarrassment,andIlaughlowinmythroat.“There’snothing tobeembarrassedabout,Lucia,”Imurmur,slidingmyhandstotheverycreaseofherthighsasIholdherlegsopen “You’re mywife.It’sperfectlynaturalformetolookatthissweetpussywheneverIplease.”Ireachupwithonehand,spreadingher folds as I reachup to hover the tip of mymiddle finger over her clit “So small and tender But it canbringyouso much pleasureifyouallowit.Haveyouevertouchedyourselfhere?”IbrushmyfingertipoverhersoftclitasIspeak,andLucia’s entirebodyjerks,hermouthfallingopenatthesuddensensation
“No!”Shecriesout,herhandsfistinginthesheets,herhipsarchingupintomytouchdespiteherself.“No,”shebreathes, trembling,lookingatmewithwellingblueeyes.“I’venevertouchedmyself.Please justgetitoverwith.Don’t ” Ilaughagainatthat,lowandpromising,asImovecloser,strokingherclitwithmymiddlefingeragain Icanfeelitstarting toswellandstiffenjustfromthatfainttouch,asmuchproofthatshe’stellingmethetruthasIcouldeverneed.Thedelicious knowledge thatshe’s so innocentthatshe’s never eventouched herself ripples throughme, and Ireachdownwithmyother hand,undoingthefrontofmysuittrousers.Mycockisaching,toostifftobearbeingtrappedanylonger,anditslapsagainstmy abdomenasIreleaseit,pre-cumslidingdowntheshaft.Ittakeseverythinginmenottoflattenagainstthebedandgrindagainst thesheetforamoment’spleasure;theacheissointense.Iwanttodrivemyselfintoher,tofeelherhotandtightaroundme She’s not wet. You’d hurt her.
It’s the onlythingholdingme back, the knowledge thatIwould hurther terriblyifIfucked her now the wayIwantto. I slide forward, still lightly tapping her clit with my finger, and I feel the way she flinches and trembles as her clit swells beneaththetouch,herthighmusclestensingasIstarttocircleitinstead
“Perfect,”Ibreatheasshearchesupintomytouch.“It’sjustamatteroffindingtherightspot.Withmyfingers,or ”
ThecrythatLucialetsoutwhenIdragmytongueoverherclitiswortheverymomentofwaiting Ifeel herresistancetothe suddenpleasure,hearthesobbingmoanthatfollowsasIlickherinlong,wetstrokesofmytonguethatleaveshergasping,and thesatisfactionthatfloodsmeisenoughtomakemycockthrobwithawarningpleasurethatmakesmereachdownandsqueeze thebasehardbeforeIlosemycumtoosoon.
“Please,”shegaspsout,andIknowthatshenolongerknowsifshe’sbeggingmetostoporkeepgoing.
Ihadn’tthoughtofbreakingherwithpleasureinsteadofpain ButthisfirststepisbetterthanIcouldhaveimagined
“Didn’tyoueverdreamofsomehandsomemandoingthistoyou?”Imock,pullingbackalittlesoIcanenjoytheviewof hernewlyarousedpussyinfrontofme Herfoldsareswollennow,too,flushedandreddenedaroundherengorgedclit,andI seearousaltricklingfromherentrance.She’snearlywetenoughforme,andthethoughtmakesmycocktwitchwithexcitement. “Lickingyoutoyourfirstorgasm?”IsmackherthighagainwhenIseethathereyesareclosed “Eyesopen, principessa Don’t makemetellyouagain.IwantyouwatchingmewhenImakeyoucome.”
“Inever thought Ididn’tknow about ”Shegasps,hardlyabletospeakasIflutter mytongueover her clitagain.“Oh, god ”
The moanthat she lets out is a strangled sound inher throat, her hips archingas I curl mytongue around her clit, lips brushingover itas Ilapupthesweettasteofher Ihadn’tplannedtodothis,butnow Ifindthatshetastes sogoodthatI’m alreadythinkingofthenexttimethatImightspreadheropenandforceanorgasmfromher.Icouldhaveheranywhereinthe housethatIplease,anytimethatIwish.
Islidemyfingersbetweenher folds,teasingher entrance,feelinghow wetsheisnow.“Imightorder youtonever wear pantiesagain, principessa,”Imurmur,flutteringmytongueoverherclitagain.“SoIcaneatyourpussyandmakeyoucomeon mytongueanytimeIplease Wouldyoulikethat?Beingorderedtobendoverwhereyoustandtocomeonmyface?”
“Iwon’t ”Sheletsoutanothershudderingmoan,undoingwhateverprotestshehadbeenabouttomake.“I’mnotgoingto ”
“Ohyes,youare,”Imurmuragainstherswollenflesh,andthenIpressmylipsaroundherclit,andsuck.
The shriekthatshe lets outfills the room, her hips buckingagainstmymouthas her fingers claw into the blankets. I’ve neverfeltawomancomelikethisbefore,asifherentirebodyisbeingunraveledattheseams,herlegsfinallyfallingopenof herownaccord.Herarousalgushesovermytongue,herpussyfinallyassoakedasIneedittobeformycock,andIsuckather clit harder as Lucia’s backarches; she grinds against mytongue, all of her embarrassment lost inthis first experience of a pleasurethatshedidn’tknowwaspossible.
Ifeelpre-cumdrippingdownmycockasitthrobs,thesatisfactionofmyvictoryalmostenoughtosendmeovertheedge I lickherclitoncemore,swirlingmytonguearoundthepulsingflesh,andlaughasIhearhermoan.
“Youcansayyou’renotmineallyouwant,”Imurmur,givingheronemorelickbeforeIriseuponmykneesbetweenher thighs Isee her gaze shiftto mystiff, drippingcock, pressed to mybelly, and the glazed fear inthemas Ipushmytrousers downmyhips.“ButImadeyoucomeonmytongue, dolcezza.Youare mine.Youcamefor me. ”
Hereyesarewellingwithtearsagain,butshedoesn’tprotest Sheknowsthatshe can’t Thetremorsrunningthroughher bodynowarefromtheaftershocksofherorgasm,there’snodenyingthat.Herskinisflushedwitharousal,herpussyglistening, andasIshiftbetweenherlegswithmycockinmyhand,there’snothingstoppingmenow
“Relax,”Imurmur,strokingonehandalongherinnerthighasIlineupmycockheadwithhernow-slickentrance.“Itwill beeasierifyoudo.”
Luciastaresupatme,wide-eyed,hergazeflickingbetweenmyfaceandmycockasIeasemyselfbetweenherfolds Isuck inasharpbreathatthefirsttouchofherslick,hotfleshagainstmytip,thesensationmagnifiedbyhowlongI’vebeenwaiting, how longI’ve beenfucking hard tonight I’ve had anerectionoffand onsince Isnuckinto the gardenand saw her, and the edginghasfinallygottentobetoomuch.Ineedtosinkintoher,tofeelhervelvetheatwrappedaroundme,to fuck her,andI can’twaitanylonger
“Justrelax, principessa,”Imurmuragain.“Relaxandtakemycock ” She’s still so fucking tight. I groan when I push my cockhead into her, the squeeze of her virgin pussy around my oversensitivefleshalmostenoughtosqueezethecumfromme,asifI werethevirginagain Ifeeltheresistance,andIforcethe urgetosimplyshovemyselfinsideofherback,clingingtomylastshredsofpatience.IfItakehertoohard,I’llhurther.Ican feelthatmorethanever,withtheintenseclenchofheraroundmycock
“Take it, Lucia,” Imurmur, strokingher hip withone hand and nudgingher thighs wider withthe other. “Be a good girl, dolcezza,andletmeinside.Youfeelsogood.Yourpussyissofuckinggood ”
Somehow, althoughIknow she still doesn’twantme inher, the praise seems to softenher. Ifeel her relenta little, the squeezerelaxingjustenoughformetoslipaninchdeeper.Shecriesout,hereyeswidening,freezinginplaceasmythickcock
stretchesherwide.Icanseeherpussytautaroundmystrainingflesh,andthesightissoeroticthatIonceagainhavetobreathe slowlytoavoidfillinghertoosoon.
Thepleasureisincomprehensible I’veneverfeltanythingsogood Thephysicalsensation,thepower,theknowledgethat she’smineandminealone somuchsothattheonlypleasureshe’severhadhascomefrommetonight,notevenfromherself. It’sdizzying,andIpushmyselfdeeperbeforeIcanthinkbetterofit,needingmoreofmycockenvelopedinher It’snotuntil sheclawsatmyarmthatIstop,holdingmyselfstillasIfeelherripplearoundme.
“Ithurts,”shegasps,herheadflungbackandhereyeswide “Itburns ” Iletoutaslowbreath,fightingmyfrustration.“I’mhalfway,”Imurmur,reachinguptostrokeherhairawayfromherface. It’smeanttoreassureher,buthereyesgowiderinstead,herlipspartingonafrightenedwhimper.
“Onlyhalf?”shewhispers,andIgroanattheawedfearinhervoice
“Youcantakeit, principessa.”Istrokemyhandover her flatstomach,slidingdownsothatmyfingers brushagainsther clit “Youcantakeallofit”
“It’ssobig.”Thewordscomeoutonabreathasshetightensaroundmeagain,andmycockthrobswithanachingpleasure thatbordersonagony
“Itis,”Imurmur,rubbingherclit.“Itwillfeelgoodonceyou’reusedtoit.You’llbegmetofuckyouhardwithit.You’ll begmetomakeyoucomewhileyoutakemythick,hardcock.”Myfingerscircleherclitfaster,andshewhimpers,shakingher head
“No.Idon’twant ”Butherbodyrelaxes,amoanslippingfreeasherhipsarchintothepressureofmyfingers,andIfeel her give wayas Ithrust Mycockslides into her, those lastseveral inches fillingher up, and Iletouta groanthatseems to comefromthebottomofmyverysoulasIfeelhersoftfoldsrubagainstthebaseofmycock.
God, I need to fucking come
“Ican’t ”Iletoutabreath,leaningforwardasIkeepstrokingherclit.“Ineedtofuckyou, dolcezza.I’mtoofuckinghard, andyoufeeltoofuckinggood.Youcantakeit.Justcomeformeagainifyouwant.Comeallovermycockifitmakesyoufeel better”
Somewhereinthebackofmyhead,IrealizethatnoneofthishasgonehowIplanned.Ididn’tintendtomakehercome,or to talkher throughitas Itookher virginity, or urge her to another orgasmas Itold her how good she feels I’d planned to fuckingdestroy her,tobreakhertomywill andyetitdoesn’tseemtomatternow,asIstarttoslidemycockinandoutofher blissfulheat.
Howeverithappened,I’vestilltakenhervirginity.She’sstillmine,stillbeneathme,takingeveryinchofmycockasIfuck her.She’sstillmoaningfor me.Andshe’sstillgoingtotakeeverydropofmycum.
Idon’tknowhowlongI’lllast IfeelhertensingbeneathmeasIrubherclit,herpussygrippingmeasshegaspswitheach flutterofpleasurethatmytouchsendsthroughher,andIcanfeelthatshe’sevenwetterthanbefore.Thesoundsoffleshagainst fleshfilltheroomlewdly,thewetslapofmyskinagainsthersasIsinktothehiltinsideofheragainandagain,rollingmyhips againstherssothatIcanfeel thesoft,exquisiteclenchofherfoldsaroundthebaseofmycock.Ifeel thethrobbingpleasure thattellsmeI’mclose,andIthrusthard,groaningasIsinkintoheragain.
Innocentassheis,Luciaseemstograspwhat’sabouttohappen “No ”shegaspsout,startingtotrytotwistawayfrom meagainforthefirsttimesinceIgothertorelax.“No,pleasedon’tcomeinsideofme!Pleasedon’t ”
“Shh,little principessa ”Ireachupwithmyotherhand,tappingmyfingersagainstherlipsasIkeepupasteadypressure onherclitwithmyotherhand.Ifuckherwithshort,quickstrokesasIspeak,holdingbackmyclimaxbythebarestofthreads. “I’mgoingtofillyouupnow,Lucia You’regoingtotakemycumlikeagoodgirl God,I’mgoingtofuckingcomesohard ” I groan, feeling my balls tighten, my cock swell as I press down hard on her clit, rubbing it fiercely. “Please!” Lucia shrieks,butshearchesupasshecriesout,herbodyclenchingdownonmycockasshecomesagain,andthat’sallIcanbearas mycockswellsanderuptswithinher
“Oh, god,”ImoanasIthrustintoherhard,grindingintoherasdeeplyasIcan,feelingthefirsthotrushofmycumfilling herup “Fuck,it’sso fucking good ”
Ithrustagain,hard,feelingtheheatofherpussyandmycumagainstmyswollenshaft,eachspurtburstingoutofmeinan exquisitesortofagonythatI’mnotsureI’ll ever beabletoreplicate Ifill her virginpussyup,thrustinghardas Ifloodher withit.ShecriesoutwithanothersobbingmoanasIstrokeherclitoncemoreandthenleanforward,grazingmymouthover hersasIrockintoheroncemore.
“That’s the first of many,” I promise her, still slowly thrusting as I feel my cock starting to soften I pull out slowly, groaningwiththatlastwaveofpleasureasmycockheadslipsfree,andIreachdownasIseethewhitedripofmycumstarting tosqueezeoutofherfolds Inudgeitbackinsidewithtwofingers,holdingtheminsideofherasIkissheragain “I’mgoingto comeinsideofyoueveryday,”Ipromiseher,curlingmyfingersinsideofher.“Morethanthat,ifyougetmycockashardas youdidtoday.I’mgoingtofuckyouuntilyou’repregnantwithmyheir, principessa. ” Ipressmythumbagainstheroversensitiveclit,smilingagainsthermouthasshewhimpers.“I’mgoingtobringyourfamily down,Lucia,”Iwhisper,thewordsabreathbetweenusasIthrustmyfingersintoher,pushingmycumdeeper.“Minewillbe
restored, and Iwill have myrevenge for whatwas done to the Leone name. And Iwill do itwhile youmoan, and beg, and pleadformyfingersandtongueandcock,thewayyoudidtonight.”
Onemorehardthrust,mythumbrollingoverherswollenflesh,andthenIpullmyhandfree Istandup,mysoftenedcock clingingto mythigh. There’s a red stainonthe sheetbetweenher thighs, and Ijerkthe sheetfree ofone corner ofthe bed, pullingitoutfromunderherasIwaditupinmyhands “Stayjustlikethat,”Iorderher,whenshedazedlystartstopushherself upfromthebed.“I’lltellamaidtocomeupandremakeit.Butyoustaylikethatatleastuntilshe’sherewiththelinens.You lieonyourback,fullofmycum,andwe’llseehowlongittakesforittotakeroot”Ifeelmycocktwitch,lookingather She lookswrecked,hermascarasmudged,hercheeksflushed,herpussyswollenandwetwithherarousalandmycum.“I’llknow ifyoumove,”Ipromiseher,reachingdowntorunmyfingersovermycock,pressingmythumbintothesensitivetip,andletting outahissofpleasure “AndthenI’llhavetocomeuphereandfuckyoualloveragain Doyouwantthat?”
Sheshakesherhead,dazedly,butIthinkIseeaflickerofsomethingelseinhereyes,too.Somethingthatmakesmethink shemightnotentirelybetellingthetruth
Foramoment,lookingather,Ifeelsomethingelse.Somethingbesidesthevengefulpossessivenessthat’sgrippedmeevery momentsinceIfirstcameupwiththisplan Itellmyselfthatit’sjustastrangesenseofpride ThatI’moddlyproudofherfor takingitsowell,forrespondingtome,forgivingmewhatIwanted.Thekindofprideonewouldtakeinaparticularlywellperformingpet.
BecausewhatIcannotdo,beyondanythingelse,isfeelanythingmorethanthatforher ItakeonelastlookatLucia,desirestillthrummingthroughmeasIlookatwhatI’veclaimed.
AndthenIballthesheetupinmyhandsandstrideoutoftheroom
Ihavenoideawhattothinkorfeel.
IwatchAndreleave,stilltremblingonthebed,confusedbeyondanythingI’veeverexperiencedinmylife
Itwasn’tsupposedtofeel good.
Iclosemyeyes,curlingintoaballonthebaremattress Nowthatthepleasurehadreceded,Ifeelsoftandsore,theache betweenmylegsintensifyingwitheverymoment.I’macutelyawareofeverything thestickinessofhiscumontheinsideof mythighs,mingledwithmyarousal,thefeelingofthemattressunderneathme,thehollow acheinsideofmewherehewasa momentbefore
Ineverreallyknewwhattoexpectfrommyweddingnight.Iknewthatitmeantamanputtinghiscockinsideofme,andthat wasabouttheextentofit Iknewitwaspleasurableformen,thatitwassomethingtheywoulddojustaboutanything tohaveif theydesireditenough,andthatwhetherornotthewomanenjoyeditwasusuallyoflittleconsequencetothemeninourworld. WhenIknewthatAndrewouldbetakingmetobedtonightandIhadnochoiceinthematter,Iexpectednothingbutpain
Curlingintoatighterball,Ipressmyhandsovermyface,tryingnottothinkofthewayhetouchedme.Ofhis tongue Ididn’tknowmendidthat.Ididn’tknowitwouldfeelsogood.AndIcertainlyneverexpectedthatAndrewoulddoitto me
AwaveofshamewashesovermeasIfeelaflickerofarousal,thinkingofhimdoingitagain.Ifeelmyselftighten,feela throbbetweenmythighs followedbyanother waveofthatachingsoreness,andIturnmyfaceintothepillow as Iburstinto tears.
Idon’tknowhowlongIstaylikethat,sobbingintomypillow,untilIhearthedooropenandsomeonestepintotheroom.
“MissLucia?”Avoicecomesfromjustinsidethedoor,softandsoothing,andIrealizethroughmyhazethatit’sCeleste.I lookup,seeingherthroughamistoftears,andanotherwaveofhumiliationcrashesovermeasIrealizewhatImustlooklike. Tear-stained, hair tangled, naked, withmyhusband’s cumstill leakingoutbetweenmythighs Ilooklike a womanwho has beenutterlyravaged,broken,andthenlefttoconsiderwhat’sjusthappenedtoher.
IturnmyfacebackintothepillowasIhearCelestetentativelyapproachthebed Ican’tlookather Idon’tknowhowI’ll everlookatanyoneagain.
“MissLucia.”Celestepauses,andIcanfeelherlookingatme.
“Goaway,”Imumbleintothepillow,andIhearherletoutaslowbreath.
“I’msorry,miss,butIcan’t.DonLeonesentmeuptomakeupthelinensonthebed.Andhe,well ”Shepausesagain,as ifshe’sstrugglingtofindtherightwords “Hetoldmetomakesureyouweretendedto”
Thatdoes make me lookup, eyes narrowed inconfusion. “Whatdo youmean, tended to?” Idemand, hearinga slightly hystericalpitchattheendofmywords “Ithinkhe’sdoneenough,don’tyou?”IseeCelesteflinch,andIbrieflyclosemyeyes “I’msorry.Iknowyoucan’tanswerthat.”
“Iwould agree, actually,” Celeste says calmly. Her voice is still mild, butIcanhear the edge to it, the hintthatshe has more feelings about all of this thanshe’s lettingon She hesitates, and I have a feelingthat she’s tryingto thinkof how to comfortmewithoutoverstepping.“Youshouldtakeanotherbath,MissLucia,”shesaysfinally.“Icandrawoneforyou.Itwill help I’llmakeupthebedwhileyousoak,andthenyoucangetanight’srest”
Thethoughtofpryingmyselfoutofthebedfeelsalmostimpossible.ButIthinkofsinkingintohotwater,oflettingtheaches andsorenessbesoakedawayforalittlewhile,andInodslowly “Alright,”Isaysoftly “I thankyou”
“It’smyjobtotakecareofyou,MissLucia,”Celestesaysfirmly.“Andonthatnote,I’mgoingtocheckinonyouwhileyou soak,ifthat’salright.Justtomakesurethatyou’re ”
She trails off, butitdoesn’ttake muchfor me to figure outwhatshe was thinking. Thatafter whathappened tonight, left aloneinabathtub,Imightseekadifferentwayout.
“IpromiseI’mnotthinkingofthat,”Itellherquietly Ipushmyselfuptoasittingposition,tuckingmylegsclosetomyself asIwrapmyarmsovermybreasts.“AndyoucanjustcallmeLucia.”
“Iprobablyshouldn’tdothat,miss ”
Ipressmylipstogether,knowingthatit’snotexactlyfairtoask,whenshecouldgetintroubleifsheslippedupinfrontof Andre,orevensomeoneelseaboveher likeJames ButIfeelasifI’mgraspingatanyconnection,theslightestbitofcareor sympathy,sothatIdon’tfeelsoalone.Itakeabreath,feelingalittleguiltyforpushingit,butunabletostopmyself.“Ifyou’re goingtobetheonetendingtome,thenthisiswhatIneedfromyou,”Itellherfirmly.“Thinkofitasanorder,ifthatmakesit easier?”
“Alright,”Celesterelentsfinally.“Itfeelsverystrange.ButI’lldomybest,m Lucia.”Shegivesmeafaintsmile.“Here. I’llgetyouarobetowrapupin,andthenI’lldrawthatbathforyou”
“Thankyou,”Iwhisper,andshesmiles.
Fifteenminutes later, I’msinkinginto the hotbath, the water glisteningwithsome sortofunscented bathoil thatCeleste saidwouldhelpsootheanythingthathurt.Ileanmyheadbackagainsttherimofthetub,notcaringifmyhairgetswetthistime, andIclosemyeyesasItrytoforcemyselftothinkaboutthisrationally.
Fornow,I’mmarriedtoAndreLeone Whetherornotthemarriagecanbeupheldifit’schallenged,whetherornotthere’s anyrecourseifsomeoneisabletohelpme,there’snothingthatIcanchangeaboutthatrightnow.Hemarriedmeinfrontofa priest,withthelicensesigned Ihavetofindsomewaytolivewiththatfornow,untilIcanfigureoutameansofescape
There must be some way to do that. Ithinkofthepossibilities notleavingtheestate,Idon’tthink,especiallysinceIhave noideawhereIam.ButIconsiderthepossibilitythathemighttakemesomewherewithhimeventually,thatwemightgotoan event,even,whereImightseesomeonewhoknowsme. Don’t panic, Itell myself,tryingtobreathe,tryingnottothinkabout thepossibilityofAndretakingmesomewherefarawayfromhere,sofarthatImightneverbeabletogetbacktomyhomeand family Itellmyselfthatthingscouldbeworse
Butdeepdown,asIhuddleinthehotwaterandsearchforsomescrapofcomfort,Iknowthat’snottrue.EvenifIwereto getaway,mylifewillneverbewhatitwasbefore Anyplansthatmyfathermighthavehadformearegonenow,alongwith myvirginity.ThebestthatIcanhopeforisthatIfindawayoutbeforeAndremanagestogetmepregnant.
Ipress a hand againstthe flatofmystomach, fear chillingme despite the warmthofthe bath. Iwantto believe thatmy fatherwouldstilllovemeafterthis.Thathewouldprotectme.ButthetruthisthatI’vealwayswillinglyblindedmyselftothe harshnessoftheworldthatIlivein,tohow disposableawomanisifshehasnovalue becauseI’dnever fearedfor mine. NowthatAndrehashadhalfofwhathewants,IhavenoideawhatvalueIhavelefttoanyoneotherthanhim
AndthelastthingintheworldIwantistogivehimtherestofwhathedesires.
IN THE MORNING,Iwakeuptobrightsunlightandanemptybed.It’sclearthatAndrenevercameupstairstosleepnexttome lastnight,andIsitupslowly,wonderingwhatthatmeans Does he never intend for us to share a bed other than for sex? The thoughtreassuresmealittle.Itwouldgivemeatleastsomepeace,alittlespacetocomposemyselfbeforethenexttimeIhave toseehim Which,IconsiderasIpushbackthecovers,Ihavenoideaexactlywhenthatwillbe
Atsomepoint,Celestemusthaveslippedintotheroom.Shetookmyweddingdressanddiscardedlingerieawaylastnight while Iwas inthe bath, and now Isee there’s a red silkslip dress hangingonthe edge ofthe wardrobe ona blackvelvet hanger, withblackvelvet ballerina flats onthe floor beneathit I have none ofmyownclothes, obviously, so this must be somethingAndrehadbroughthereforme.
Iwonderifheplanstodressmelikeadolleverysingleday Thethoughtmakesmeseethe,andIrollover,lookingatthe phonenexttothebed.ItoccurstomethatImightbeabletohavebreakfastsentuptotheroomandavoidhimaltogether,andI resolvetotrythat Let him seek me out, IdecideasIreachforthephoneandfindthenumbertoringdowntothekitchen
Whensomeone answers, Itryto sound as confidentas Ican. Igrew up ina house like this, after all, and I’mstill Don Fontana’sdaughter.“Canyouhavesomeonesendupbreakfastforme,please?Tothemastersuite.Somethinglight,ifyoudon’t mind”
There’s a pause, and the voice onthe other end almostsounds regretful whentheyanswer, as ifthey, too, are aware of what’sgoingoninthehouse “I’msorry,Mrs Leone DonLeoneinsistedthatyoubetoldtocomedowntotheformaldining roomforbreakfastonceyouwokeup.”
“Don Leone,” I repeat, biting my tongue against what I really want to say As far as I can tell from the little bit of informationAndre has givenme, his familyis indisgrace. He was taken away fromhis inheritance and broughthere bymy fathertoawaitpunishment.Thefactthathe’sstylinghimselfas don afterhe’skidnappedmefrommyhomeissooutrageousthat
it’salmostlaughable.
“Yes,ma’am.”Anotherpause.“I’msorry.DonLeonewasveryfirm.”
“I ” I swallow hard, reminding myself that there’s nothing this person can do about it If I don’t have the power to contradictAndre,it’scertainthatnooneonhisstaffdoes.“Alright.Thankyouforlettingmeknow.”
“Ofcourse,ma’am”
Thephoneclicksoff,andIsetthereceiver downinthecradle,feelingmystomachclench.I’dhopedIwouldhavemore timebeforeIwouldneedtofaceAndreagain It’sclearthathedoesn’tplantogivemethat
If he’s going to demand my presence, then he can wait on it. I’mstill morethanalittlefrightenedofhim,butlastnight showedmethat,attheveryleast,hewantstokeepmealive.Idon’tintendtotesthislineonthattoofar,butitdoesgivemea smallbitofpower It’sclearlynotenoughforhimtosimplyeliminatemeinordertopunishmyfather Hewantsmehumiliated, too.
Withthat thought inmyhead, I take mytime gettingready I notice that there’s no underwear to go withthe slip dress hangingonthewardrobe,andIbitemylip,hatingtheideaofgoingdownstairsinthis.It’snothingbutaglorifiednightgown, and that’s all the more evidentthe momentIslip the red silkover myhead and lookinthe mirror The feelingofitsliding againstmybareskinislewdlysensuous.EverytimeImove,thepeakofmynipplesandthefaintbrushofmypubichairagainst the fabric is evident to anyone who might be looking. The straps are so thin that they look as if they could snap with the slightestpull,andthenecklinedipsbetweenmysmallbreasts,showingthesmoothskinthere
It’sadressmeantforamistress,notawife.Adressmeanttoembarrassmeinfrontofanyoneinthehousewhomightsee, even the staff to prove that no matter whose daughter I am, no matter what name I bear, whether that be my father’s or Andre’s,I’mpowerlesshere.Histoy,andnothingmorethanthat.
So I’ll just have to pretend not to be embarrassed It’seasiersaidthandone,butIforcemyselftogothroughthestepsof gettingreadyasifIwerewearingthesortofappropriateclothesIwouldnormallydressin,andnot this.Irunabrushthrough myhairuntil it’shangingthickandshinyaroundmyshoulders,andsliptheflatson.Noneofmyjewelryishereeither,andI touchoneearlobe,feelingevenmorebarewithoutit Ifeelevenmoreadrifthere,withoutanyofmyownthingstoanchorme
As Iwalkdownstairs, Irealize Ihave no idea where the formal diningroomis. Ihave a feelingthat’s another tactic of Andre’stoembarrassme ashiswife,Ishouldhavealreadyhadatourofthehomeandbefamiliarwithallofit Heshould havebeentherethismorningwhenIgotup,toshow mearoundtheestatethatis,technically,minenow aswell.Instead,I’m lefttowander like a lostpuppy,andIfeel sure thatit’s another waytothrow me offbalance andmake me feel as ifIdon’t belong.
Hewantsmetorememberthatnothinghereismine,notevenmyownself.
Fortunately,I’mfamiliarenoughwiththewayamansionlikethisistypicallylaidoutthatIcanfinditfairlyquickly Iend upcatchingaglimpseofahugelivingroomandasmallerparlor-typeroombeforeInoticeasetofdoubledoorscrackedopen justenoughthatIseeasliverofwhatlookslikealongdiningroomtable Itakeadeepbreath,steelingmyselfforthemomentI seeAndreagain,andpushoneofthedoorsopen.
Theroomitselfisimpossiblygrand,andI’mseizedwiththeurgetolaughagain.Eveninmyfather’shouse,wedidn’teat intheformaldiningroomeverymorning IeitherhadsomethingsentupwhileIgotreadyfortheday,orifmyfatherwantedme toeatwithhimthatmorning,weateinthesmallerdiningroom.ThesightofAndresittingaloneattheheadofthelongtable, withthewindowsallalongthefarwalloftheroomspillinglightinandahugecrystalchandelieroverhead,tellsmejusthow muchhefeelstheneedtoplayarolethathe’snotaccustomedtofilling.
Itmightseemlikeasmallthingtoknowabouthim,butittellsmethathe’sinsecure Thatheneedstofeelasifhebelongsin this place that he’s tryingto elevate himselfto. It tells me that Ineed to step carefully, because ifhe feels as ifhe’s being undermined,there’snotellinghowunhingedhemightbecomeorhowdangeroushecouldbe.
Hehearsmeopenthedoorandlooksoveratme,standingthere,apleasantsmileonhisfaceasifnothinghappened Asif last night didn’thappen,atleastnotthewayIrememberit.He’swearingdarkchinosandabluebutton-up,andIhatethefact thatInotice thatitmakes his eyes lookbrighter thanthe sapphire blue thattheyusuallyare Ihate thatInotice thatanything abouthimisattractiveatall.
“Don’tjuststandthere”Andreraisesaneyebrow “Youmustbehungry”
Ifeelmyselfstarttotremblealloveragain,asifjustbeingnearhimcausesit.I’mnotsureifit’sfearorangerorboth,butI canfeelmyselfonthecuspofturningandrunningbackupstairs.I’mstarving Ihaven’teatenanythingsubstantialsincelunch yesterday,butitalmostfeelsworthittostayhungryifIcangetoutofthisroom
Andre’s expressionturns impatient.“Sit down,Lucia. We’re a normal married couple havingbreakfast.Stop actingas if you’rebeingtortured”
Somethingabouthispatronizingtoneandthelookonhisfacetipsmeover theedge.I’msoclosetofallingapart,andas muchasIknowIneedtolearntotakeallofthisinstrideifI’mgoingtosurviveit,justthismoment,itfeelsimpossible.
“Nothing aboutthis is normal!” Ibite out, still staringathimfromthe doorway. “And nothingaboutthat‘wedding’last nightwas done properly, as muchas youkeptprattlingonaboutthat. Youcan’tpossiblythinkthatyou’re goingto getaway
