Abruptly, we came to a stop, and I heard voices along with a lot of gasps.
“Where am I?” I jerked my head from side to side, trying to determine where I was—with whom.
The fabric around my wrists was cut off, but before I could reach up to pull down the blindfold, someone grabbed my arms.
“Now-now, you’re not ready to see yet,” Castello whispered into my ear as my arms were lifted, and cold, hard steel was placed around my wrists.
“Oh God, what’s happening?” I tried to struggle against whoever was holding my arms, but it was no use. The click of the cuffs being locked around my wrists sounded like fucking gunshots echoing in my ears, and my heart no longer beat with a rhythm but rather thrashed with alarm.
“Are you ready for your fifteen minutes of fame, Tatum?” Castello’s voice was tainted with malice, and I shuddered as he started to untie the blindfold. My body went numb, my insides burning with incomprehensible fear and panic. My lungs ceased to work, only allowing a few shallow breaths at a time.
And then the blindfold was off.
God, I wish I didn’t open my eyes.
I stared at a room full of men dressed in tuxedos, holding glasses of champagne and tumblers of bourbon in their hands. They all looked at me, glaring at me like I was the spawn of Satan.
“Meet the family,” Castello said beside me.
“What is this?” I whispered, unable to look away from the crowd of people.
“See this as your own personal coronation day.”
Every man in the room stared at me, their gazes moving up and down my body. The torn rag did nothing to hide my breasts, which meant that I was basically hanging from the ceiling with cuffs around my wrists…semi-naked.
There was no stopping the tears now, the humiliation finally breaking the dam of the last shred of willpower I had left.
Castello stepped in front of me. “Two rules for tonight’s party.” He wiped a tear off my cheek with one swift, harsh move of his thumb. “You will not cry. The last thing you want is to show all these men how weak you really are. And lastly, you will not speak.”
Before I could reply, someone pulled a piece of rope over my head, forcing it between my lips before tying it behind my head. It was so tight the harsh rope cut through the corners of my mouth, and all I could do was moan as the pain radiated up my cheeks.
Castello smiled, his gaze slowly moving down my body. He bit into his lower lip, lifting a hand and dragging his fingertips from my collarbone, slowly down, pushing the fabric away from my breast. I yanked, I jerked, I moaned, but it was no use. I couldn’t get away from his touch, which still managed to burn my skin.
His gaze lingered on my exposed breast before his fingertip started circling my nipple. I closed my eyes and whimpered, biting into the rope that was tied through my mouth.
“I can’t decide whether Carlo was a lucky man or not.” Castello’s fingers moved over the swell of my breast, down to the middle of my stomach where the tear in the rag stopped.
“How many times did he fuck you, Tatum?” He pulled down, tearing the thin fabric further, down…down, the feel of his fingertip dragging against my skin making me shiver.
“How many times did my brother make you come?” From one hip to the other he moved his hand, causing the fabric to pull back, exposing both my breasts. The chills, the fear, and the ache pulsing between my legs made me bite down on the rope. I hated that between all the bad, his touch made me feel so damn good. It wasn’t right. In fact, it was so fucking wrong.
I jerked back, trying to get away from his touch, and the chains above me rattled in protest. But he grabbed me around my hip and pulled me forward, lifting my leg and hooking his arm underneath my thigh. There was no use in fighting him. His grip was too strong, his hold too tight. All I could do was watch his face as he stared down at my naked thigh like a starved predator.
“Did Carlo have what it takes to satisfy your body completely? To make you come so hard your spine felt like it was being cracked wide open?”
With a single finger, he softly touched a white line that spread across my skin, the only evidence left of a craving I had fought for so long.
“You know what I think, Tatum?” His finger continued all along the scar. “I’m thinking Carlo didn’t have a clue how to fully satisfy you.” He lifted his gaze to meet mine. “What twisted desires pump through your veins every goddamn day of your life?”
Now I was glad my mouth was tied, that I couldn’t reply…because he was right. He was so fucking right, and it pained me to admit it, even if not out loud. Every time Carlo and I made love, I yearned, craved for him to be rough, to be strong…to play. But he never did. He worshipped my body softly, delicately, like a flower that would wither under the tiniest amount of pressure, when I longed for him to use my body like it was his own temple of pleasure.
Castello stepped back with a smug grin on his face, like he had read my mind, heard me admit he was right. It was like he had a direct line to my mind, like he knew me better than I knew myself. It scared the crap out of me to know that someone could penetrate my mind so easily.
“Enjoy your evening, Miss Linscott.”
Castello turned his back on me, walking away toward the rest of the crowd, leaving me there alone, exposed, and utterly humiliated. The worst part of it…I wanted to scream after him, beg him to come back, to not leave me there alone. For some twisted, depraved fucking reason, I would rather have endured his presence than the rest of the men currently staring at me with dark, malevolent eyes portraying the evil thoughts plaguing their minds.
If I thought I had the strength to fight him, to play Castello’s game…I was wrong.