17. Damian #4
“Your protection has failed, Damian. Your wife is in our hands, to do with as I please. But since you’re so insistent that she’s yours, that she is genuinely your bride, then you should have no trouble proving it, should you?
After all, if she really is your wife, legally and truly, then you’re right.
I couldn’t possibly sell her off without incurring the wrath of Konstantin Abramov, and we have enough bad blood between us already. ”
I narrow my eyes at him, my jaw clenched. “You want the fucking marriage certificate? I’ll have to go home and get a copy. ”
Giovanni laughs broadly. “Oh, no. I have a much more entertaining option in mind. You see, I don’t think Konstantin wants a war with us. Not really. He’s been a diplomat all along, and he’ll look for a diplomatic answer. But of course, if I were to harm a member of his household?—”
“You’ll fucking die screaming. You’ll die screaming anyway, if you hurt her?—”
“Yes, yes.” Giovanni waves a hand. “I’ve heard it all.
What I want is proof, Damian. I want to see with my own eyes that this woman who has caused so much trouble is really your bride.
And you’re going to prove to us, once and for all, that she’s more than just a stripper you married to hide her away from us.
That this isn’t some elaborate trick that’s been played on me. ”
I jerk against the cuffs, rattling them. “Stop talking in circles, Russo. What the fuck do you want?”
Giovanni smiles, a lazy, reptilian smile that makes my blood curdle.
“It’s simple, Damian. If she’s your wife, then show us.
Fuck her, with witnesses. After all, if she’s really your bride, then it’s nothing you haven’t done before.
And if you haven’t consummated the marriage yet, then do it now, while we watch.
I’ll take you to her. And when you’re done, and someone has checked to be sure you…
finished properly, then I’ll let you both go.
As a gesture of goodwill, to prevent any more unpleasantness between our families. ”
I can hear the blood pounding in my ears. “You can’t be fucking serious. You’re out of your goddamned mind.”
Giovanni shrugs. "Am I? It's a simple test. If you refuse, well, that proves the marriage is fake, and we proceed with our original plans for the girl. If you agree..."
"If I agree?"
“Then you can go home. All you have to do is fuck your wife, Damian, and come inside of her. It should be simple. And I’m sure she won’t mind.” He smirks. “It’s nothing new for her, after all. Well, perhaps fucking in front of an audience. But she’s put on plenty of shows before.”
“I’ll fucking kill you?— ”
“Not if you want your wife to live, and avoid being given to my men as a living sex doll. If you refuse—” Giovanni shrugs. “My men have been working hard lately. I’m sure they’ll enjoy breaking her in thoroughly before I sell her off.”
The red haze descends again. My vision tunnels down to Giovanni's smug face, and I imagine all the ways I could kill him if my hands were free. Slowly. Creatively. With a great deal of personal satisfaction.
What he’s suggesting is unthinkable. Horrific. I think of Sienna—gentle, innocent, nearly untouched—and the fear and shame that this tableau would put her through. The trauma of it, the way it might break her.
But she’ll be with me through it. We’ll have to be unchained, able to touch each other, to move. And it might be the only opportunity I have to get us out.
It might be the only way I can protect her.
Every part of me wants to rip Giovanni apart. But I’ll never get the chance if I’m dead. The thought of being forced to watch while his men violate her over and over, without any way to get to her…
All of the options are bad. But only one gives us a chance.
"Bring her," I say through gritted teeth.
Giovanni nods to one of his men, who disappears through a side door. The minutes that follow feel like the longest of my life, my mouth dry as dread settles in my bones. As I wait to see my wife again.
Then the door opens, and my heart stops.
Sienna stumbles into the room, pushed by two guards who keep a firm grip on her arms. Just the sight of their hands on her makes my blood boil, my muscles wound tight with rage. I’m going to break every one of their fingers. Everyone who touched her. I ?—
Sienna’s eyes land on me, and I see something that nearly cracks my heart in two. A flicker of hope, as if even after all of this, she still believes that I can protect her.
She’s still wearing the yellow sundress that she wore to the doctor, though it’s torn and dirty now. There’s a bruise on her cheek, a scrape on her chin, and I can see where her wrists are chafed from the handcuffs.
“Damian.” She mouths my name, and Giovanni nods to his men.
Two more leave the room and come back a minute later—a long, agonizing minute in which Sienna and I look at each other, her face full of fear, her body visibly trembling, as I struggle not to lurch out of the chair and take it with me as I go to her.
The air is thick with dread, and a minute later, the guards return dragging in a long table.
“Options,” Giovanni says with a broad smile. “You can lay her back on it, or bend her over it. Whichever you prefer. I’m curious to see, honestly.”
Sienna’s eyes widen. “Damian?”
Giovanni chuckles. “Should I tell her, or would you rather?” When I don’t answer instantly, he continues.
“It appears that there’s some question as to how valid this marriage actually is.
You see, it’s my impression that Damian married you as a way to, shall we say, cuckold me out of my possessions.
To take you and hide you away, without actually ever intending to be a real husband to you.
So, if he wants to leave with his wife, as he’s so violently insisted, he’ll have to prove to me that this has always been a real marriage…
or, failing that, consummate it with witnesses. ”
Sienna’s eyes go impossibly wide, and her shaking intensifies. She looks at me, horrified, and then back at Giovanni. “No, I?—”
“Don’t worry, my dear.” Giovanni’s voice turns soothing, as if he’s trying to calm a wild animal, or a child.
“My men will be under strict instructions to watch only. No one will be pleasuring themselves while this demonstration is going on, except for you and Damian, of course.” He smiles as if he’s made an especially good joke.
“Although I can’t stop them from jerking off later to the memory of it.
I’m sure they’ll all regret not getting to try you for themselves.
Which could still happen, if your ‘husband’ refuses to participate. ”
Sienna’s lips are quivering. She stares at me, as if I could somehow make this all go away. “Damian?”
I can’t think of any way out of it. Any way, other than to bide our time, to go through with it until I can see a chance to grab a weapon, to disarm someone, to flee. I need Giovanni to think we’re playing along, until I can think of something better.
"I'm here," I promise her, trying to put every ounce of reassurance I possess into those two words, knowing it’s not enough. "I'm right here."
“How touching.” Giovanni sneers. “Which will it be, Damian?” He gestures around the room. “That table, and your wife, are getting used one way or another. Will it be my men… or will it be you?”