8. Valeria
8
Valeria
No news is good news, right?
I haven’t sought out my brother to figure out what is going on. Rather, I’ve been avoiding anything that deals with my past, if possible.
If Tommy had any information, I’m sure he’d be happy to be the first to let me know Elijah knows well enough where I am.
Is it too late to start looking around corners, expecting some hired hand to get me before the man attached to me gets the chance?
The lack of updates doesn’t stop me from thinking about my situation. I’m not being very helpful from my end by keeping most of the details of my past to myself.
From the way Tommy silently watches me every waking second, I expect him to grab my shoulders and try to shake the information out. With how much time I’ve been keeping it bottled inside, I can feel the pressure of it all growing against my chest, making breathing impossible.
There’s only one way to lighten up the weight, and that’s to let a little out at a time. Am I ready to talk about the whole thing? Or I can let it all out at once, and it’ll be like ripping off a band-aid. Rough at the start, but so much better by the end.
Something tells me a story about a little death and blood won’t surprise him much. Honestly, he’ll probably roll his eyes and say he’s disappointed. I wasn’t tortured or anything, not really.
As I sit on the grand staircase and stare up at the glittering chandelier, I let my finger graze the same mark his thumb had traced. Only a couple of months old, the line bulges against my skin.
Elijah gave me the scar for a reason. A reminder of the promise he last made before giving me a second chance. One I didn’t use.
He succeeded. When I press my finger against the line, I recall the screams that flooded my senses that day. Screams that weren’t my own.
I don’t want to forget about that day. Even if it makes my skin prickle up, and breathing feel impossible, I don’t want to pretend nothing happened.
My knee bounces in discomfort as my stomach clenches.
Next to me, I feel Tommy’s eyes. He doesn’t tell me to stop, but he does what he always does, keeping to himself as he judges me from the side.
Glancing next to him, I look at his hands. Specifically, where his pinkies once were. “Did it hurt?”
He grunts, choosing not to answer. It’s a stupid question, anyway.
“Down below, where you do what you do…” Eyebrows pinched together, my knee bounces faster. “You’ve killed people, obviously. You probably make it hurt on purpose, right? That final blow?”
His hand suddenly moves, flattening his palm against my leg to press my foot against the step, causing the motion to stop.
“By the time I’m done with them, I’m doing them a favor by putting them out of their misery. Dying is the least painful part,” he answers honestly. “Keeping them alive would be more cruel of me to do.”
My eyes feel dry as I forget to blink, and he squeezes my knee when I try to move it.
I don’t want to forget about what happened, but it hurts to remember. I haven’t breathed a word about what happened, but the weight of my shoulders feels heavier and heavier every day that passes.
Tommy may not care about me, but perhaps he’ll find interest in what has weighed on my mind all this time.
“Would you believe me if I told you I got someone killed?” Looking over at him, I see his permanent scowl is deeper as my question hangs in the air. “Someone completely innocent, doing nothing but having fun by placing a few harmless bets during his free time.”
He doesn’t crack a smile or respond for a few seconds. However, his eyes refused to leave mine. “Someone important to you?”
“Elijah thought so.” Tearing my eyes away, I look at the glittering lights up above. “Then again, he only ever watched who I got close to while I was inside his playground.”
I won’t bore him with the little details. Ted and I were merely acquaintances. Shared a few drinks at the bar, sat next to each other at some of the tables, but that’s all there was to it. Honestly, I think he might have had a little crush on me, and look how things turned out.
I wince as I realize I’m digging my finger into my skin.
“It’s almost laughable, really. Leaving this place to get out, just to get myself wrapped up in another mess.” Shaking my head, I can’t even find any false humor to coat my words. “I know you are probably used to it, but seeing a dead body only a few feet away…”
Shaking my head, my brows come together, and my breath catches.
“Not just a dead boy. He made me watch the whole thing. The torture.” My words come out more clipped, rougher. Instead of feeling lighter, it’s harder to breathe.
Tommy moves to stand. While his palm leaves my knee feeling cool without his warmth, he uses his hand to motion me. “Let’s walk.”
He’s being rather considerate. Sure, there are men coming and going from the front entrance, risking the chance of seeing me break down and putting on an entire display, but he doesn’t let that happen.
Instead, once I’ve made it down the few steps, he plants his hand between my shoulders and leads me towards the door.
For someone who is insistent on not letting me leave, he’s a fan of guiding me outside. For someone demanding retribution for the pain he experienced, he’s helping me ease mine by problem-solving.
Having been afraid to look at him since admitting the last bit, I can see his face is unreadable. Colder than usual. He looks angry. Then again, he always does.
We walk around the estate until my legs tire. Between, he doesn’t demand the gross details of the torture, and I don’t give them. He lets me spill more than I originally planned, and doesn’t stop me once I start.
Forget interrogating me, I’m giving him all the information he needs.
“Once everything was said and done, he made it very clear that I’d get the same punishment if I didn’t earn his money back.” Taking a brief break, I rest against the linked fence. “I guess he watched me more than I realized. He even complimented me on my talents and luck.”
Hard to appreciate the words while he had a blade to my throat while painting my skin with Ted’s blood.
“A hundred grand.” Shaking his head, he crosses his arms over his chest. Revealing that he knows more than I thought, he squints ahead. “He must’ve had hopes for you in the future, because most would’ve killed you on the spot.”
“ Thanks for the reminder.” Shivering, I notice the way he glares ahead. “One bad bet rolled into another, and I thought I could save myself. Can’t say I’m a fan of losing. Makes it hard to focus.”
The debt snowballed until I couldn’t reverse my actions. Then Elijah had to remind me of my place, and that went as expected.
“And instead of playing along, you ran.” He speaks my thoughts just as they cross my mind. When I nod, he sighs. “This is why Leon ordered me to watch you. You just drew in the worst crowd. Like a magnet to scum.”
Of course, he’d find the opportunity to take a jab at me while I’m vulnerable.
Narrowing my eyes at him, my lips flatten into a line. “Must be why you’ve stuck so close, huh?”
Instead of taking my shot with a growl, the corners of his eyes wrinkle, and his mouth twitches. For a brief moment, I see an emotion ripple across his face. Amusement? No, my eyes must be playing a trick on me.
Otherwise, I might get a glimpse of the guy I left behind.
“I wanted to ask you to come with me, you know?” I admit softly as my eyes drift down to the blades of grass squashed between his boots. Sure, my reasoning would’ve been completely greedy, and so far left field he wouldn’t have come if I told him the truth. Old feelings aside, I knew he would’ve kept me safe.
He could’ve saved his pinkies by following me out of this state. I didn’t have the courage to leave myself. Instead, I just moved to the other side of it. If he’d tagged along, maybe he wouldn’t have become the man he is today.
He doesn’t reply, but I feel his eyes. I’m forced to look back up when he takes a step forward. Before I get the chance to decipher his unreadable expression, he’s suddenly in front of me. Hands out, his fingers tangle in the fence at my sides. “You never hinted at your escape. Why didn’t you ask?”
How many times has he run the whys and hows through his head after I left?
“You wouldn’t have said yes. If I’d asked, you would’ve shot me down in a heartbeat. Even worse, you would’ve put the pieces together far too easily and wouldn’t have lowered your guard.”
It’s the truth. I played him like a fool when I was younger. He should’ve been suspicious when I stopped trying to put up a fight, when I stopped making him chase after me. All I needed was one night where he didn’t feel like he needed to guard my door or my window. When that night came, I took it. I ran and never looked back.
“You haven’t changed, then.” He takes one more impossible step forward, and I’m trapped.
For once, escape isn’t the first thing on my mind. I’m too distracted by what is happening behind his eyes as he stares down at me. Feeling his chest brush against mine as he inhales deeply, his entire front rumbles. It’s like he enjoys what he smells. Though if that were the case, why does he look so angry about it?
“What do you mean?” The words come out a little shaky, but unlike before, fear isn’t what’s guiding my words. He’s been acting more and more strangely as each day passes. Like he’s purposely pushing the exact buttons to make my heart race and body react to him, this is no different from any of the other times he’s invaded my personal bubble.
Something about this feels different. I’m not worried about what he’ll do, I’m too busy clinging to what I think he won’t do.
With him this close…
My heart pounds in my chest as my eyes run up the front of his shirt and past the ink on his throat. His beard, less well-groomed than the others, attempts to hide his lips. However, once I see them, I’m locked in on them.
“You’re trying to get me to let my guard down,” he explains, agitation weighing behind each word. “This method of yours will not work.”
While I don’t have a clue what he’s talking about, I can’t help but notice how his voice wavers. It’s so subtle, I almost miss it. Even more, he lowers his gaze, and I can see it. His frustrations and the lies he’s trying to tell to keep them hidden.
He thinks I’m trying to use my body to get under his skin?
Telling myself to laugh at such a ridiculous idea, the words don’t form. Not the ones that should. Instead, I lift my hand and touch his chest. His muscles flex and twitch beneath my fingertips. “I don’t believe you.”
I shouldn’t play into this idea. He already has a strong opinion of me. I shouldn’t want to add anything else, like describe me as a wanton woman, to his list.
Tommy takes my words as a challenge. Of course, he does. That’s one more thing that hasn’t changed about him. He loves proving me wrong.
Before I can react, his hand finds my face. Just like when he found me in his bathroom, he cups my cheek with purpose. Unlike back then, he doesn’t get distracted and ruin the moment.
Right now, the only thing he’s focusing on is my lips and the way they part. His thumb traces my bottom lip, and he vibrates again when I show him my tongue by flicking it against the tip of his finger.
I can’t tell which one of us is playing who. Everything is happening in a blur, too quick to think any of this out.
Before I can shy away, his mouth crashes against mine. I can pretend I haven’t imagined this a hundred times, but I can’t lie, I used to fantasize such gentle kisses from him.
It’s not sweet. It’s not gentle when he swoops in.
I bite back a gasp as his teeth scrape my bottom lip, sharp enough to sting. His breath is hot, his chest heaving against mine, and when I dare to meet his eyes, they’re dark, furious.
He buries his hand into my hair, wrapping the strands between his fingers as he finds the grip he needs to pull my head back. One little gasp from my lips is all he needs to seal our lips together before introducing me to his tongue.
His tongue . It’s as ruthless as the rest of him. Demanding, too. Stealing my breath, he doesn’t waste a second exploring every inch I have to offer. Focusing on his tongue flicks as it flicks against mine, deliberate testing—then curls around it in a way that sends heat straight between my thighs. A rough sound escapes him, more growl than moan, and the vibration of it against my lips is obscene.
A sound so raw, it’s impossible to fake.
Like he’s not expecting it either, he yanks back, putting hardly more than three inches between us.
We’re both breathing heavier, trying to keep straight faces. I’m failing, my cheeks burning hot, as he can’t decide where he wants to look. My mouth is the most dangerous spot, but he’s never been a coward.
It’s what causes our downfall.
He kisses me again, harder, deeper, his tongue sweeping against mine in a way that makes my knees weak. The fence bites into my back, the pain sharp and sweet, but I don’t pull away.
Not knowing what to do with my hands, they’re completely useless. I can’t touch him, not without making it seem like I want this. I don’t. I can’t. This is Tommy, after all. I’m not allowed to want anything from him.
Every moan that rises in my throat is his—consumed, devoured, stolen before it fully forms. His grip tightens, holding me in place like he fears I’ll vanish if he loosens his hold for even a second.
Claiming every inch of my mouth like he’s starving for the taste of me, he invades like he owns what he touches. For a few brief seconds, he has me believing the very same.
Every flick, every thrust of his tongue is filthy, deliberate, wringing another broken sound from my throat. He doesn’t let me breathe, doesn’t let me think.
Hardly the type to consider myself strong, I cave and twist my fingers into his shirt, attempting to drag him closer to never put an end to this punishment of his. It can’t be anything else.
One more pull of my hair, one more nip at my lips, and that’s that.
Then he pulls back, breathing hard, his dark eyes burning into mine.
“See?” His voice is rough, but there’s a crack in it. “Nothing.”
Liar.
If I were younger, I would believe him, and my heart would break, aching forever. However, I’ve grown and gained more than enough experience in my life.
I’ve seen men want things from me. Not just my heart, but my body, too. The hunger behind their eyes is always easy to see.
The way Tommy is looking at me now, it’s not like a man who is disinterested. He’s not giving off the usual signs of hunger, either.
No, this is new.
This man is staring down at me like he’s outright starving. Like a caged animal finally free to hunt for their first meal in days.
Is this real, or is he trying to play his own version of mind games with me?
He’s just trying to get in my head. That’s all this is. Maybe he’s known about my crush, and he’s using it against me. Fuck, that has to be it. If I’m not careful, I’m going to be playing right into the palm of his hand.