She shakes her head, lost sobs drifting over her lips. “N-nothing will ever b-be okay again.” Her body is limp as if all the energy has been drained from it. “You’ll keep me c-captive. I’ll turn eighteen, and you’ll rape me until you g-grow b-bored of me. Then you’ll hopefully k-k-kill me.”
Hearing her words makes my jaw clench, and anger seeps into my heart.
She sobs again. “Or you’ll h-hand me d-down to your m-m-men.”
Lifting my right hand to her jaw, I take hold of her chin so she’ll look at me. When our eyes lock and I see the raw fear trembling in her soft brown irises, I force my features to relax so I don’t look like the fucking grim reaper.
“None of that will ever happen.”
Her eyes search mine. “I can’t b-believe a w-word you say.”
I shift her to sit on the bed and climb to my feet. Walking to the window, I pull it shut.
“I’m only keeping you because you have nowhere to go.”
“I can go to New York,” she tries to argue.
I shake my head. “It’s not negotiable. You’ll stay here.” Turning around, my eyes settle on the distraught girl. “Until you’re twenty-one, then I’ll let you go.”
Her gaze widens on me.
I cross my arms over my chest and stare at her for a moment. “I won’t force myself on you, and I sure as fuck won’t allow any of my men to touch you. You’ll be safe, Little Rose. It’s the one thing I can promise you.”
Her eyebrows draw together, and there’s a flicker of hope on her face. “What will you do with me for three years?”
Letting out a sigh, I start to walk to the door. “I’ll feed and clothe you.” I gesture at her scattered belongings. “Unpack. I like my house neat with everything in its place.”
Slowly, Rosalie stands up from the bed and glances at the window. It has me saying, “You’re free to go outside, but you can’t leave the property without my permission.”
There’s a flash of a dare in her eyes. It’s a nice change of pace from the grief-stricken look. “I’m allowed to go outside?”
A smirk curves the corner of my mouth up. “Yes, but don’t do something stupid because the freedom I’m giving you can just as easily be taken away.”
I can see her thoughts racing behind the brown of her irises, and I know neither of us will shut an eye tonight.
I don’t trust she won’t try to make a run for it, and she doesn’t trust me not to hurt her.
“When you’re done unpacking, come to the living room. I’ll make us something to eat.”
I leave the room and head back down to the kitchen. I haven’t eaten since lunch and am well past the point of starving. Taking ingredients from the fridge and cupboards, I start to make a chicken casserole.
I’ve always loved watching my parents cook and learned how to make food at an early age. It’s soothing and one of the few things that calms me.
My thoughts are inundated with Rosalie. In a matter of hours, I’ve gone from saying I’d keep her until she turns eighteen to deciding to hold onto the girl until she’s twenty-one.
Something about her has gotten under my skin.
I chop up the chicken with more force than usual.
Manno and his nephew had to die, but I hate that an innocent girl got caught in the crossfire. I might be unforgiving and ruthless when it comes to work, but I have a soft spot for kids.
She’s no fucking kid.
She’ll be eighteen in five days.
Still, she’s so fucking innocent, hurting her will be like ripping the petals of a blossoming rose.
Soon the aroma of frying onions, chicken, and mushrooms fill the air. I take a moment to pour myself a tumbler of vodka and sip on the drink while I continue preparing the meal.