18. Sienna
SIENNA
I thought I knew what fear was before. In the warehouse. During the attack. But once again, I’m finding out that there are things to be afraid of that I could never have imagined.
It only takes a second to count the guards in the room.
Twelve. Even if no one else comes in, the thought of that many men touching me, using me, fucking me, when I’ve only ever been with one man before Damian—nausea sweeps through me, mingled with terror, the combined sensation threatening to buckle my knees and send me to the floor.
Only the guards’ hands on my arms, in a firm, bruising grip, keep me upright.
I look at Damian, begging him silently to have another solution. Doing this with him would be better than all of these other men, better than strangers, but still…
I don’t want to be used in front of an audience. It’s horrific in a different way if it’s Damian, someone that I want, someone that I’m beginning to have feelings for that I’ve never felt for anyone else. It’s a different kind of violation.
The guards are armed. Damian must have a plan. Some kind of way out of this…
I look at the silver-haired man in the suit. Giovanni Russo, the man behind everything that’s happened to me since that first, awful night, who came to see me earlier. Who told me how much money he plans to make from me.
All around me are men who want to use me for themselves. Everyone except Damian, who has fought every desire he’s ever had for me. Who has only ever wanted to protect me.
“You’re insane,” I whisper, looking at Giovanni. "Even for you people, this is completely insane."
"Quiet," Giovanni snaps. "You'll speak when spoken to. Your mouth has better uses, whore."
The snarl that comes from Damian is animalistic, the rattle of his chains chilling my blood. “Don’t,” he growls, and the menace in his voice is enough to make even Giovanni take a step back. “Don’t fucking speak to her like that.”
Giovanni sneers. "You're hardly in a position to give orders."
"Try me."
For a moment, the room is completely silent except for the sound of breathing and the distant hum of industrial machinery. Then Giovanni laughs, but it sounds forced.
He gestures to his men. "Uncuff him. But keep your weapons ready."
One of the guards comes forward—a bit hesitantly—and unchains Damian, taking off his cuffs. I can see him flex his hands, curling and uncurling his fingers. Giovanni takes a step back, his arms crossed as he nods toward the table.
“Now,” he says calmly. “Prove to me that this marriage is real.”
Damian looks at me, a long, searching look that is full of regret and hesitation. He doesn’t want to do this. I can see that he doesn’t. But I know he’s gone through every angle already. If he does this, it’s because he doesn’t have any other choice. I know—I trust —that that’s true.
I swallow hard and give him a tiny nod. I won’t hate you for this. I won’t. I promise . I hope he can see that in my face. That I don’t blame him—that I would never blame him.
Damian looks at Giovanni. “What exactly do you want me to do? ”
Giovanni laughs. “I think you know. Or are you a virgin, Kutnezsov? I’d be very surprised to hear it.”
“I know how to fuck,” Damian snarls back. “But I want to hear it. I want to know exactly what you want, so you can’t weasel your fucking way out of it after and say there’s some reason for not letting us go.”
Giovanni’s smile widens. “Smart. I do wish you’d come and work for me.
But it’s simple, Damian. I want you to fuck your wife.
Right here, right now, in front of all of us.
Pick your position, but make sure we all get a good look at that pretty pussy before you sink your cock into it.
Fuck her until you come, and make sure you come inside of her.
That should be simple enough. If she's really your wife, if this marriage is real, then you should have no problem performing for an audience. "
I can see the fury on Damian’s face at the crude words, the flush on his neck as he glares daggers at Giovanni.
Giovanni shrugs. “Or, my men can have her. Your choice, Kutnezsov.”
I’ve never seen such violence in a man’s face, as the way Damian looks at Giovanni. I would be terrified to see someone look at me in that way, like he’s calculating all the ways he could torture and kill him, and deciding on one. Like he’d enjoy choosing, like choosing a pastry at a café.
Giovanni motions to me. “Go stand by the table. She doesn’t need to be uncuffed. Leave her hands bound.”
I’m shoved forward, toward the table. My heart pounds in my ears, my stomach twisted with nausea.
I’m terrified, and I don’t know how I’ll get through this.
Giovanni wants proof of our marriage—if I break down and cry, if I’m afraid of Damian, then won’t that be proof that it isn’t real?
If it’s real, then I need to behave as if it is.
I need to play their game.
Damian walks toward me, slowly, his movements non-threatening. I see the guards around us tense in my periphery, but no one moves or interferes.
He stops just in front of me, raising one hand to touch my cheek just below the bruise. He looks exhausted, under all of the rage, as dirty and tired as I am. “Did they hurt you? Are you hurt?”
“Not much,” I whisper. “Just a little banged up. It’s not that bad, really.”
His smile is taut, without any humor in it. “You’re braver than I would have ever expected.”
I manage a faint one of my own. “I’m not, really. I just don’t want to die.”
“I won’t let you die.” Damian’s voice is low and fierce. “I said I’d protect you, Sienna, even from myself. I can’t keep that last part, not right now… but I will protect you. I’ll find a way out of this, even if…”
“Even if this is the way out,” I finish. “They said they’d let us go if we did this. Were they telling the truth?”
Damian swallows hard. “I think so. It’s not in Russo’s best interest to start a war. He’s sending a message. How Konstantin takes it, after…” He presses his lips together. “I don’t know. But I won’t let this slide. I won’t?—”
“This is taking too long,” Giovanni snaps from the back of the room. “Get on with it, Kutnezsov. I said to fuck her, not talk to her.”
Damian’s jaw tightens. I can see the war happening behind his eyes. He's calculating odds, looking for weaknesses, trying to find a way out of this that doesn't involve what Giovanni is demanding. But we're outnumbered, outgunned, and trapped.
"It's okay," I whisper, stepping closer so our bodies are almost touching. "I can handle this. It’s… it’s okay."
"Sienna—" His jaw works, and I can see the pain in his eyes, the resistance. He doesn’t want this, either. He doesn’t want to hurt me.
I wish I could touch him. I wish I could do anything at all to make this better. “I can handle it,” I repeat, putting as much sincerity as I can into my voice. “Whatever you need to do, it’s okay. We’ll get through this.”
The anguish in his eyes nearly breaks me. This man who I've seen be ruthlessly violent, who kills without hesitation when protecting what's his, looks like he's being torn apart from the inside .
"This isn't how I wanted..." he starts, then stops, his jaw clenching. “If we had… if I’d given in, I never would have… this isn’t…”
"I know." I rise up on my toes, bringing my lips close to his ear. "But it's still you. It's still us."
Giovanni clears his throat impatiently. "Touching as this is, I'm getting bored. Start the show, or I’ll take that as a refusal, and have you chained up again, Kutnezsov. You can watch my men enjoy what you don’t want.”
The threat sends ice through my veins, but I don't let it show. Instead, I look directly at Damian.
“It’s okay,” I whisper again.
Damian’s jaw works, the muscle there ticking as he looks at me. “I don’t—” he clears his throat. “I don’t know if I can?—”
I step one inch closer to him, close enough that our bodies are touching now, brushing against each other.
I watch him breathe in, nostrils flaring, and the look in his eyes as I lean up against him is almost enough to make me forget what’s happening, enough to narrow the room down to just the two of us.
Almost .
I let out a soft, shuddering breath as I brush my lips against his. “It’s me, Damian,” I whisper. “I know you want me. I’ve seen how much you want me. You pretend like you don’t, but?—”
His hands drop to my waist. He pulls me against him, his head tilting as he presses his lips to mine, but there’s no fire in it, no passion.
It’s not like the kiss in my bedroom, when he devoured me like I was his last meal, like he’d never taste something he wanted so much again.
I can feel in every fiber of his body that he doesn’t want to do this.
“Fuck.” Damian breaks the kiss, stepping back an inch. He stands there for a long moment, as if he doesn’t know what to do, and I can see what the problem is.
I don’t have to be aroused to get fucked. But Damian does have to be aroused. And this situation, clearly, is not turning him on.
It only takes a second for Giovanni to catch on to what’s happening .
“What did I say about taking too long, Kutnezsov?” he calls from the other side of the room.
“Can’t get it up for your wife?” He chuckles, as if this entire thing is highly amusing for him.
“Get on your knees for him, girl. Use your mouth. Do I need to tell you how to fuck your ‘husband’?” He laughs again.
“Must not be a real marriage after all, if your wife won’t even take your cock in her mouth to get you hard. ”
Damian’s jaw is so tight I’m worried his teeth might crack. His eyes are dark with rage, every muscle wound tight, but I know we can’t keep pushing this. I don’t want to do this, but I also don’t want Giovanni to put a stop to it and give me to his men instead.
Biting my lip, I drop to my knees on the hard concrete floor. I look up at Damian, who suddenly has a panicked look on his face.
“Sienna—”