Nine
Ava
I pull the blanket over Aurora and tuck a few pillows around her so she doesn’t roll off the bed in her sleep. Nothing in this house is made for a child, and since I don’t plan on staying here long, I haven’t bothered pushing for the essentials.
Sure, I might’ve gone along with Carlo’s insane plans on the surface, but I’m just biding my time, waiting for the right moment to grab my daughter and get the hell out of here. I won’t deny he’s right about the danger I’m in.
That’s why I’ve decided to leave this country altogether and run to England. My mom was Irish, so I’m fluent in English, and with the savings I’ve built over the years, I can cover expenses for a few months until I land a new job.
I kiss Aurora’s soft, sweet-smelling skin and whisper, “Mama’s always watching over you, my love.”
A loud, persistent banging pulls me out of my thoughts. I follow the noise downstairs and find a muscled guy, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, swinging a sledgehammer at the stripper stage in the living room. My eyes catch the roaring tiger tattoo on his wrist, and I know him instantly—Maxim.
One of the circular glass platforms is completely smashed.
Maxim pauses to catch his breath, his chest rising and falling heavily, sweat dripping down his face.
He’s heading to the other platform when he sees me.
For a moment, he freezes, then a rage so fierce fills his face that he looks like a tiger ready to pounce.
Gripping the heavy sledgehammer, he storms toward me with long strides, his voice booming with mockery. “Well, look who’s here. Her Royal Highness Ava Wilson, the lying, useless mother and kid-stealing bitch.”
The rage pouring off him leaves no doubt. If he gets his hands on me, I’m dead meat. I bolt to the other side of the room, and he throws the sledgehammer aside, chasing after me. I reach the intact circular stage and start running around it to keep him at bay.
He slows his pace, stalking me like a lion toying with its prey, and I snap, “The liars and thieves are you and your boss. I thought you were just some sleazy asshole making money off desperate women, but you’re a full-blown mafia criminal.”
He circles the stage, flashing a wicked smirk, his voice thick with menace. “Oh, my wild Strawberry, you have no fucking clue who I am. But you will. I’m going to teach you what lying and hiding gets you in my world.”
He lunges for me again, and I scream, picking up my speed. “How many times do I have to say I’m sorry for lying to Carlo? Look, I never imagined Nico would pull something like that.”
He stops, sneering again. “If Carlo wanted to punish you for the shit you pulled, you’d be rotting in a dumpster with your throat slit by now. You keep dodging death because I’ve got your back, and what do you do? You fuck me, get pregnant, and hide my fucking kid from me.”
I stop too, panting hard. “You raped me. What makes you think you deserve to be a father when you build your filthy world by exploiting helpless women?”
His eyes widen at my words, his skin flushing red.
With a swift, agile leap that seems impossible for his massive frame, he jumps onto the stage and closes the distance before I can make a break for it.
He traps me, pinning me down. I try to fight back, but holding me is like crushing a sparrow in his fist. He grabs both my arms, squeezing so hard I whimper.
Leaning close to my face, he hisses, “I mistook you for a whore, but you didn’t open your big mouth to tell me I was wrong.”
He exhales sharply in my face and raises his voice. “If you ever dare throw that kind of accusation at me again, I’ll show you what rape really means, you’ll be waddling for a month.”
His face is so terrifying I’m scared he’ll choke me right then and there. In a desperate move, I jerk my knee up and slam it between his legs. He lets out a loud yell, flinging me to the side. The force sends me crashing to the floor, my head smacking the edge of the platform.
I pull myself together quick, half-rising, when I hear his voice, half in pain, half thrilled.
Bent over and holding his crotch, he snarls, “I’m going to fucking wreck you tonight.”
He lunges at me again, and before I can get to my feet, he grabs my shirt’s collar and yanks me up.
The fabric tears under his grip, exposing my bra.
My horrified gaze drops to my chest, and in a surge of rage, I slap his face hard.
My hand stings from the impact, but it only seems to fire him up more—his lips curling while his eyes spark with wild, manic joy.
I ball my fist and swing at him, but before it connects, he grabs my throat, hoists me up, and pins me down on the platform. I try to repeat my earlier move, raising my leg, but he’s ready this time, trapping me under the heavy weight of his body.
He crosses my arms over my chest, squeezing my wrists so hard I gasp in pain.
I’m completely pinned, defenseless. But my mouth keeps running anyway.
I spit straight at his face. “Do whatever you want, but I’ll get out of here eventually.
This time, I’m going somewhere none of you bastards can touch me or my daughter. ”
Unfortunately, my spit lands right on his lips. His violence and blows couldn’t break me, but what he does next, to my shock, saps the fight right out of me. He runs his tongue over his lips, swallowing my spit with a twisted pleasure.
Leaning down, his hot breath grazes my skin, and he murmurs seductively in my ear, “You think I’ll let you go and hand me back some trashy stripper in a few years?”
His lips brush my cheek as he slowly shakes his head, clicking his tongue. “No, no, no, Ava. I’m not letting that happen.”
I don’t know what’s wrong with me. The heat of his lips makes my skin crawl in the worst way. But I’m still mad as hell. “What the hell are you talking about?”
He smirks. “We’ll get to that. First, let’s clear up this rape nonsense.”
But it already is. I know there was no rape. I only said it to get under his skin. His heavy weight and some strange magnetic pull make it hard to breathe.
I squirm under his iron grip and grumble, “I can’t breathe. Let me go.”
He pulls my arms above my head, locking both wrists to the platform more gently this time. The pressure of his legs on my lower body eases up, but his voice turns deadly. “If you ever try to punch or kick my balls again, I’ll beat your ass raw. That’s a hard line for me, got it?”
How does he do it? How does he go from seductive to murderous that fast?
I swallow hard and just nod. The corner of his mouth curls up, and that seductive edge creeps back into his voice. “Now tell me, Ava Wilson, why’d you wait four years to come find me?”
I bite the corner of my lip and shoot back, “Is that why you gave me your card? To add another whore to your collection?”
He raises a brow, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I asked first.”
I look away and answer quietly, “I thought I owed you a thank-you. You saved my life.”
He releases my wrists and cups my chin between his thumb and forefinger, turning my face to force me to meet his gaze. His thumb brushes my chin softly. “Then why didn’t you tell me who you were?”
My voice comes out sharp without meaning to. “Did you even give me a chance?”
He leans closer. “Don’t kid yourself, Ava. You’re braver than that. You wanted me too.”
The scent of his cologne, mixed with sweat and the clean male scent of his skin, floods my senses, and my pulse goes wild.
His hand slides down from my chin, grazing past my bra, stopping just below the curve of my breast. His voice is low, seductive.
“Your heart’s racing, just like that night.
Your body’s burning up, your skin’s prickling, and your breathing’s turning shallow. Know what that means?”
I take a deep breath, steeling my voice. “Yeah, you’re right. I wanted you. Why wouldn’t I? You were the guy who saved me like some damn hero. In my head, you were a handsome prince charming who turned out to be rich, too. If I’d known who you really were…”
He cuts me off. “What? What would you have done?” His hand slips lower, stroking my core through my pants. My heart leaps to my throat, and a soft moan escapes my parted lips. I look away in shame, but he presses harder, voice rough. “If you’d known who I was, you wouldn’t have gotten wet for me?”
I try to twist away, to move my center from his hand, but he holds me firmly and goes on, “Your pussy wouldn’t have clenched the way it is right now?”
I squeeze my eyes shut in despair, because that’s exactly what’s happening now. Damn it, why does my body keep betraying me like this?
He buries his face in my neck. “You wouldn’t have given yourself to me?”
I claw at his shoulder and push weakly. “Please, don’t.”
It’s like shoving a brick wall, he doesn’t budge an inch. He lifts his head from my neck and traps my chin again. “You went there to give your virginity to the man of your dreams, didn’t you?”
My stupid tears well up, answering his question. He lets out a sharp breath, closes his eyes, and presses his forehead to mine, whispering, “What did you do?”
His lips hover so close to mine, and despite everything I know about him, I’m aching to close the gap, to let him take me again like he did that unforgettable night.
“Have you been with anyone else since me?”
He pulls back, his eyes blazing with that strange fire again. Breathing gets harder, his grip tightening around me. Whatever this thing between us is, it’s swallowing me whole, growing stronger, binding our bodies together.
When I don’t answer, his jaw clenches with anger. He grabs a fistful of my hair, yanking hard, and growls, “Answer me.”
My head throbs, but I don’t back down. “It’s none of your—”
Before I can finish, he yanks harder, jerking my head back and drawing a yelp from me. “Fucking answer me.”
I glare at him for a while but finally shake my head slowly.