Chapter One #2
Both men thought I was madly in love with them.
I took what I needed and left them with little of the real me.
One day, someone would be worthy of having the real me, all of me.
Until that time, I would keep her hidden until I called her forward to take her rightful place at the head of the family, disposing of the meek outer shell I’d created—this caricature of a real person.
I will destroy anyone and anything that gets in my way.
When I turned twenty-one, however, Father spouted some bullshit about the business having difficulties, so although he announced the engagement and we had a lavish party, he didn’t set a date for the wedding.
For that, I was grateful, but Alfredo wasn’t.
He was still expected to keep his hands to himself, which only made him more aggressive in the bedroom.
It was almost like he was sticking one to my father instead of me.
But it wasn’t terrible. He was a shit lover.
He was very self-serving, but it got me what I wanted.
He would fuck me and rant about my father.
I would tell him how “terrible it all was,” and he would tell me what he did for my father, trying to impress me with what a big man he was.
I ooed and ahhed at all the right times and fed his ego.
And Craig, my trainer, would take me out on spa days, which were actually to the firing range or to martial arts dojos or hotels to fuck.
We started going more regularly, and my father was happy to have me out of the house.
We would work out, work up a sweat, and fuck the rest of the afternoon away.
This I wasn’t mad about. He was a great fuck, and he also taught me how to be a great fuck, which would serve me well in the future.
But it frustrates me now when I’m with Alfredo, because I have to play the na?ve playmate who still quakes when I hold his unimpressive dick in my hands.
It makes him feel like a man to have a mouse of a woman.
Little does he know—even mice have teeth.
Craig likes his women with a little more fire.
It also lit something inside me that made me more confident.
It gives me an edge, and he gives me orgasm after orgasm.
When I come home struggling to walk, they all assume it’s from yoga or some such activity, if they even notice it at all, and I let them believe that’s why my muscles ache.
When Alfredo fucks me, and I wince, he just thinks it’s that he’s so big, so manly.
He would say, “I’ll ease in gently, Principessa, as it will take time for you to become accustomed to my size.
” Well, that’s when he was trying to win me over, and lately, I haven’t even spoken to him.
If only he saw the size of Craig’s dick…
he pales in comparison, and a quick thought of him gets me wet enough to endure Alfredo.
Neither knows about the other; bruises and scratches are explained by fitness or running, and I get away with it.
They think I’m clumsy and useless, and that’s if they even notice.
When I reached twenty-two and still had no wedding date, Alfredo started to get restless. He wanted to take over. He wanted me to start popping kids out to solidify his hold.
Luckily, Marianne, our cook and housemaid, has kept an eye on me my whole life.
She was like my mother. Mother was just the woman who gave birth to me and gave inappropriate advice.
The housemaids and nannies were the ones who raised me.
When my mother died, Marianne saw the lingering looks and touches from Alfredo and anticipated his intentions.
She took me to the doctor, where I was given a contraceptive injection.
My father and Alfredo don’t know. We keep it between ourselves.
Back then, she wanted to tell my father about Alfredo’s behaviour, but my father isn’t a nice man. I begged her to keep this between us. I explained I had my reasons, and I just needed her on my side, and that’s where she’s always been, by my side every step of the way.
I confided in her my plan, and she tried with all her might to convince me to leave with her, but alas, we would have no job, no money, and they would come for me—not because I’m anything special, but because out of the five families, I am the only girl.
Father has no intention of marrying me to Alfredo, and I know that now. He fully intends to marry me into one of the other families to secure his footing and give him more pull with them, and more power over the remaining families, depending on which one he chooses.
Alfredo isn’t privy to this information, but I’ve heard the talks.
I’ve seen the money exchanging hands for information; bribes are considered my dowry.
I suppose the other families are playing into my father’s hands, wanting to secure me for one of their sons to produce a stronger bloodline, bringing the top two families closer together.
I kept quiet because at least all the sons were more my age, and they couldn’t be any worse than Alfredo.
I let go of my childhood. I took charge of my education and my extracurricular activities, and I played the part I needed to, whatever part that may be, for each man.
Don’t get me wrong—none of the men in my life were completely terrible, really.
They just barely knew I existed unless they wanted me to look pretty for an event or fuck me for their own needs. I took what I could and ran with it.
I had started siphoning money away, and Marianne helped me, planning for a future we may be forced into if it took a turn in the wrong direction. I wanted to be prepared for any eventuality and needed a contingency plan.
It was approaching my twenty-third birthday, and Father had been ramping up his meetings with the families, seeing what he could squeeze out of them in payment for me, the virginal, quiet, timid girl who would supply them with endless babies, strengthening their bloodline as well as his own, giving him twice the power of the other families from the disjointed union.
Alfredo was getting antsy. He was bored with sneaking around.
It was no longer fun for him to have this secret from Father.
He now took to aggressively taking me in the corridors and in my father’s office, ripping at my clothes, slamming into me against the walls and furniture.
Blatantly trying to get caught and to be seen, but Father never saw or never cared.
It was no great hardship—the sex was better and quicker.
I was just getting to spend less time with him, which I wasn’t mad about.
I just wasn’t getting as much information as before.
I took to snooping in the office when everyone was asleep.
By the time my twenty-third birthday came and went, I was fully ready to take over.
I had been checking the books and the contacts, and I had my escape plan if it went to shit.
Marianne had our go-bags. I’d continued siphoning money away for years and had enough money for us both to live basic but happy lives and start fresh, but that was the worst-case scenario.
In the best-case scenario, I would step into my father’s role, and those beneath me who weren’t on board would die.
I had no qualms about doing this. I’d trained for years, and the real me was peeking through the cracks, waiting, wondering when the time would be right to blow their world apart, end their tyranny, and destroy what they’d built… then rebuild it in my own image.
Before…
Alfredo storms into my room. The door flings open, ricocheting back and slamming closed behind him. He paces back and forth, the vein on his forehead protruding, his face reddening, his breathing elevated and uneven.
“What’s the matter, my love?” I raise a brow in question; his demeanour is off, his body language rigid and unnatural.
“Your father. I think he’s selling you off to one of the other families.”
“He can’t do that. I’m yours. I’ve been yours for as long as I can remember; don’t let him take me from you.”
He grabs my face roughly. “I won’t. I will kill him and take what’s mine. You included.”
He sets off pacing again, muttering under his breath.
“What are we going to do?” I start to weep a little. I don’t want to go overboard, but he really needs to tell me what’s happening.
He grabs me by the arms and shakes me a little. “Stop, stop it. I need to think. I don’t need you whining.” He lets go abruptly, and I flop back on the bed and curl my knees up, hugging them to me. He sighs. “I can’t deal with your snivelling now. I need to think.”
“I… I can help you think,” I stutter out.
He comes over and stands at the side of the bed.
I reach shaky hands up and start to unbuckle the belt of his trousers, and he grins down at me.
His fingers grab at my hair and drag me towards him before I’ve even got his dick out.
He yanks it out of the confines of his jeans and holds it out like he’s offering me the finest fillet steak.
I swallow hard, and he yanks me forward, crashing my face into his dick.
“Open,” he growls, and I do.
I form the “O” with my mouth like he showed me and hollow my cheeks. He groans and slams into my face unceremoniously, and while he fucks my face, I close my eyes, thinking over and over again, Do not fucking kill him yet. We need him.
I need him to take out my father so I can retaliate and kill him in the hope that I can put the rest of my plan into play. I’ve tried to plan for every eventuality. The only thing I’ve been unable to plan for is the fact that I don’t know when he’ll kill Father.