For a moment, I feel loved or as close to loved as I’ll ever get.
I know it’s selfish of me. I do feel guilty for using Alfonso, but my need to defy my constrained life drives me forward. My need to be more than just a bargaining chip makes me return his kiss.
When we’re naked, and Alfonso rolls on a condom, I lean over a wooden table. Bracing my hands on it, I close my eyes as Alfonso positions himself behind me. He enters me slowly, and I bite my bottom lip from the slight pain. It’s only our third time, but at least it doesn’t hurt as much as the first time.
“Elena,” Alfonso groans when he’s all the way inside me. He grips hold of my hips and begins to move. My cheeks flame up at the slapping sounds filling the room.
I let out a soft groan, and it makes Alfonso move faster. “I love you,” he grunts at my back.
I soak in his declaration, savoring it like a starved girl. Alfonso is the first ever to say those words to me, and I never knew how much I needed to hear them until now.
My eyes burn with emotional tears, but unable to return the declaration, I instead reply, “You feel so good.”
Suddenly Alfonso’s ripped away from me. He staggers backward and slams into a wall. Glancing over my shoulder, my eyes dart to Dante’s face, and seeing his angry scowl instantly makes fear pour through my veins like acid.
Mother of God. This is bad. So, so very bad.
I grab my shirt from the floor and quickly cover myself as best I can while frantically pleading, “He didn’t do anything. I forced him.”
Dante’s top lip curls into a sneer as his malicious glare snaps from me to Alfonso, who’s climbing to his feet. My stomach churns with dread, and I swallow hard as my body begins to tremble.
“You’re fucking Elena?” Dante growls while yanking his gun from behind his back.
“I’m sorry,” Alfonso cries with panic tightening his features. There’s no sign of the boy who wanted to run away with me. Instead, Alfonso’s pale with terror, his eyes wide on the gun aimed at him.
Dread bleeds through me, making my skin prickle and my heart race wildly. “Please! Please don’t,” I shriek as I dart forward, grabbing hold of Dante’s arm. “Don’t kill him. Please.”
Even though I’m pleading with Dante, I’m still surprised when he shoves Alfonso back against the wall because he’s never done a single thing I’ve asked of him before.
I almost let out a breath of relief, but then Dante trains the gun on Alfonso again. Dante turns a dark glare on me before he backhands me hard with his free hand.
It sends me sprawling over the wooden floor. An ache spreads through my cheek, but I quickly scramble to my feet. Covering myself with the shirt, my breaths explode over my lips as my heart beats out of control. Dante’s ominous chuckle fills my ears, and I know it promises nothing good. Only pain. It’s always been followed by pain.
Before I was born, Dante was my father’s right-hand man. He still is, but now he’s stuck babysitting me, and he hates me for it. As the years passed, it only seemed to make it easier for Dante to become a vicious monster.
Dante’s cruel gaze locks with mine, and then his sneer grows, making the scar on his left cheek pull. “Principessa,” he growls. Shaking his head, he steps closer to me, never taking the gun off Alfonso, who’s white as a ghost where he’s frozen against the wall. “Tsk. Tsk.”
“I’m sorry. It won’t happen again,” I try to reason with Dante. I should know better, though. There’s no reasoning with the devil.
His eyes rove over my trembling body, and then the usual viciousness in his gaze turns to something else… something sinister. A shiver rushes down my spine, and I fist the fabric tighter against my front as I hunch my shoulders to make myself smaller.
“I’ll tell my father,” I try to threaten Dante, but we both know it’s an empty threat. My father will always believe Dante’s word instead of mine.
“Tell him what?” Dante sneers. “That I killed Alfonso for touching you?” He lets out a dark chuckle, then he shrugs. “Tell him.”
He turns his attention back to Alfonso, and it has me screaming, “Don’t shoot him! Please.” I can’t have Alfonso die because of my selfishness.
Dante’s right arm darts out, and he grabs hold of my hair. My muscles tighten as I’m yanked against his body, and my mouth grows dry with fear. There are no words to argue or plead with because Dante doesn’t care. Not about me. Not about anyone. He’s nothing more than a soulless tormentor.
I’m shoved down to the hard floor and try to brace myself for the kicks and punches that are bound to follow.