38. To slay the demons of the past
The weeks after my abduction, I go through the motions on autopilot. I get up, shower and dress in luxurious fabrics that mould my body. Andrea and I drive twice a day to the hospital to see Nico who stays there for a week before we move him to a guest room in the cottage. Being unable to move from his bed on his own for seven days was traumatic for him. In the cottage, the familiarity settled his nervous and violent energy.
When I get to the Rouge construction site, it’s with an escort of three men following me around as soon as I step outside my home. Nico calls me about every two hours to check up on me, which drives me half mad, but I can’t refuse him anything.
I come home to eat whatever Andrea’s prepared for dinner and sleep like the dead.
I know Lana couldn’t sleep after her own ordeal, now months ago.
She texts me often and I ignore her most of the time. I’ve never ignored her, but all I can do is put a foot in front of the other, unfeeling and hollow. And she’s preparing her own wedding, which I don’t have the energy to help her with. The guilt gnaws at me, but every day, I get a text from her.
Almost always the same.
Lana
I love you. I’m here for you. When you are ready.
Me
Heart emoji
Andrea is back to watching me sleep rather than sleeping in bed with me. I might be getting ten hours per night, but my husband is holding onto sanity by forgoing sleep altogether to protect me. He even set up his own office at Rouge, with me.
The first floor is done, and the office is the first room I decorated and finished. Thick soft black carpets line the floor and the wallpapers with intricate designs of threads of gold and red give the space a mysterious aura. But to me, it feels safe. I had the main door reinforced to be fully bullet-proof, just like the one-way window that overlooks the main floor underneath.
So we spend our days taking care of Nico and Catalina, focusing on our small circle, and working towards our goals, never apart from each other. Me, opening this sanctuary and temple of pleasure. Him, forming stronger alliances with the most prominent families in the British underground. He’s finally coming to terms with loving the darkness and thriving in it.
Our last missing piece is Addams, but with the club opening tomorrow, we’re going to lure him with the promises of young people. I’m already circulating rumours that you can get with minors at Rouge.
“The club is coming together beautifully, sweetheart,” Andrea says one day while overlooking the team set down the lacquered dark wooden floor I chose for the dancefloor. “I’m so proud of you.”
My smile is soft, but doesn’t touch my eyes. Not much does lately.
“Thank you. Opening night tomorrow is all ready and set. Did you invite your new friends?” I ask, referring to the Russians and Sicilians.
Most families see Misha Petrov’s actions in their territories as unwise. They’re not noble by any means but he didn’t respect them enough to offer them a cut, or at least ask if he could trade in their territories.
That’s where Andrea’s political genius shines. In the deals made in the dark, the alliances promised across a poker table. There’s a code in the mafia. Petrov spat on it. We’re hoping that will be his downfall, and every soon.
“Yes, sweetheart. This is bigger than us and we’ll need all the power we can to stop him.”
I nod. I find myself not able to give a shit. The numbness inside my chest feels cold. All the little movements I do all throughout the day give the illusion that I’m fine. When I pour my attention over contracts, budgets and CVs for the new staff, I can pretend Louis didn’t happen. I can pretend I’m a living, breathing creature even though I know deep down I’m just a walking corpse.
Andrea is so stealthy, I don’t hear him until his finger curls under my chin. I look up at him from my place on the velvet couch, and the pain in the whiskey eyes I love so much is almost too much to bear. “You need help, guerrieritta.”
“No, I’m almost done.” I motion to move and return to my paperwork when his grip on my chin tightens.
“I meant you. I want you to talk to Lana’s doctor.”
“I’m not talking to a shrink,” I say indignantly, the first signs of my fire spreading through me since that day. My reaction brings a tiny smile to Andrea’s lips, a spark of amusement that makes me want to throttle him.
“I’m not asking, guerrieritta. You will obey me.” His voice is low, sending a tremor through my spine. Another first since that day. It feels like so long ago since I felt my body sing for him. I want more. I need more.
“Fuck you, Andrea. I’m not your toy.” I push his hand away and get up to leave, but he takes hold of my waist and moves my body like I weigh nothing, pressing my stomach to the designer desk I ordered for myself with a firm hand behind my neck.
The tension I didn’t realise I was holding in my shoulders dissolves and I almost moan at the sensation of the rough wood rubbing against my cheek. Andrea’s breath fans across my neck.
“You agreed to be my toy the moment you let me into that tight cunt of yours, guerrieritta. But you can fight me if that makes you feel better.”
He always knows when I need to fight. After weeks of inertia, it’s now all I want to do. All thanks to the man holding me captive with his body.
I wiggle as best I can, trying to free myself of him, just so I can slap him, just so I can fight, let my fire burn once more. I land the back of my palm across his face, almost turning my entire body up to face him, but he recovers quickly and takes hold of my wrists with one of his large hands and sets me back face down again. Only the tips of my toes reach the ground and I can’t find purchase to push him away.
The click and swoosh of his belt melts the anxiety further, and when he tightens it around my wrists. I barely struggle and let him.
“When I command you, sweetheart, you do what I say. I fucking own you and it seems you need a reminder,” he says as he pulls my jeans and underwear down to my knees. The cool air is another shock to my system and relaxes me further.
I need what he offers more than I need my next breath.
Louis might be dead. I might have been the one to end his life, but the fear of someone using me again takes hold of me every waking moment. Sleep has been my only escape and even then, it’s too heavy for my mind to rest and heal.
I need Andrea’s brand on me. I need him to make me fight and to make me surrender, to make me come back to my own body, so I own myself again.
“Remember your safe word.” His words are a gentle command, and I answer. Always obedient when it comes to him.
“Kalliste.”
He hums. His hand falls on my left butt cheek fast and hard, dragging a cry from my throat. I haven’t used my voice for weeks and it feels raw and odd to hear it now.
“You’re going to cry harder than that, sweetheart. Or we’ll be here all day.”
Another slap, this time on my right butt cheek, has me moving up the board of the desk, my breasts scraping against the hard surface, and I cry out again. In quick successions, Andrea slaps my thighs, the fleshy part of my buttocks, the side of my legs.
My cries turn into moans, my body melting into the wood.
Two fingers enter my sex without preamble and I whimper. My teeth graze my bottom lip.
“This body belongs to me. This mind belongs to me. And you’ve been giving it to a dead man for weeks,” he continues his assault inside me with his thick fingers, thrusting in and out until all I feel is him. “But no more, do you hear me?”
“I… Y-yes.” I’m barely coherent, but I know what he’s saying. I’ve let the demon of my past hold me captive for weeks.
“You’re mine. My slut. My toy. My wife.”
My mind goes fuzzy at his degrading words. They make me feel safe, cherished. Despite the possessiveness in his claim, I know I’m my own as well. Through the pain across my flesh on my lower body and the pleasure building between my legs, Andrea reminds me that I own this body of mine, and I choose to give it to him. A soft smile spreads to my lips and this time, I can feel it inside my chest.
“Make me come, marito. I need it.”
The pressure builds fast and I’m on the verge of orgasm when he withdraws his fingers, leaving me aching and needy, ready to beg. I know that’s what he needs. “Please, please, amore, I need you inside me. Make me feel good.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” He takes hold of my hair and pulls with force at the roots, tiny needles prickling my skull with delicious agony. He turns my head and lowers his lips to mine, whispering against them. “Bad girls don’t get to come. Now, suck on my fingers and shut the fuck up.”
I taste myself on his fingers, my brain emptying of anything but the sensations of him owning me. His pants and boxers go down and he enters me slowly, savouring each inch of his cock inside me.
It’s agonising. I want more.
Andrea pistons his hips while holding onto my bound wrist and my mouth like a leash until I crest again.
My moans grow louder. He removes his fingers from my mouth, where drools pooled on my chin. Pain shoots from my clit when he pinches it hard to stave off my climax, and I groan. “I said ‘Do not come’. Not until you agree to see Lana’s doctor.”
“Fuck you!”
Another harsh slap, another pull on my hair, but the words refuse to leave my lips.
Tears appear at the corners of my eyes, and my throat constricts. I try to shake my head despite Andrea’s hold on it but he presses it down to the desk again.
“Dammit, woman!”
His belt leaves my wrists and my hands fall on each side of my body. I hold myself in place, waiting with a mix of excitement and apprehension for the blow I know is coming.
Cock deep inside my pussy, Andrea straightens and lashes the belt across my ass. My walls clamp around him. I long to touch my clit and come but I don’t, obeying him and letting him punish me.
Though it’s not a punishment. It’s a release. When the belt falls a third time on my ass, tears fall and my body convulses under the force of my cries. I wail so loud I’m half-scared the workers will hear me.
“Kalliste,” I murmur.
Andrea’s strong body envelopes me and his scent of bitter oranges invades my nose immediately. He lifts me up into his chest and I wrap my arms around his neck, sobbing uncontrollably. I think we sit on the sofa in the office, but I’m only half-aware of my surroundings, only focusing on the convulsions of my limbs and the fresh tears staining my cheeks.
His hands soothe my back, my legs. He kisses my hair and licks the tears away. “Thank you for using your safeword, tesoro mio. I’m so proud of you.”
“There’s nothing to be proud of,” I answer in between sobs. Mascara and snot cover his neat shirt, and the sight makes me bawl harder.
“You survived a monster, guerrieritta. You slained your enemy, you were victorious. You are magnificent. Strong and brilliant. Fierce and loyal. I’m so in love with you sometimes I can’t breathe. I look at you and all I know is that my love for you knows no bounds, and there isn’t a thing I wouldn’t do for you. What I did just now is push you to your limit, to your release because I want to take care of you.”
I burrow my face harder into his chest, hiding at the strength of his words, hitting me right in the chest, in the heart that felt like it hasn’t beaten in weeks. He just restarted it with the power of his love.
“Look at me.”
Our eyes meet again.
“You’re going to get help and take care of yourself because as much as I will kill anyone who threatens you again, sweetheart, I can’t kill the demons in your head. And those bastards need to be put down, understood?”
I nod weakly, but I know he’s right.
Andrea holds me for what feels like an eternity. Eventually, my body can’t produce any more tears and my body relaxes fully.
“Come on, sweetheart, let’s go home so I can give you the proper aftercare you need.”