Chapter 7
BIANCA
Bane still came to me in the night. Sometimes he painted his face, sometimes I got a Ghostface mask, sometimes I got him in a tear gas mask taking me rough as ever.
It was always him though. It was our secret, our own world, and my own addiction and drug. I wanted and waited for him always.
And he came. Always without remorse. And always willing to fuck me into oblivion.
He didn’t stay the night, never came to the front door, never told a soul about me.
He snuck in through a window somehow, and he didn’t offer me any promises or reassurances of our future.
He remained stoic and callous outside of what we did in the dark, just like the brother of the man I would marry should.
He treated me the same in front of his brothers in the light of day.
He still brought girls to parties, and he still told me there was nothing between us, but I knew how he felt between my legs, knew what he whispered when he thought I was too far gone in my passion to listen.
I knew he wouldn’t let another man near me without my consent and knew he watched me when I wasn’t looking.
Year after year, he showed up. I thought he was mine and I was his. I made up excuses to stay in school and continue on into a doctorate program so that I could prolong my inevitable engagement to Rafe.
My father couldn’t lock me away in a closet again because I made sure not to go home.
It was the risk I took for him. For us. I thought Bane would want me in the end. I thought he cared.
But I was so, so wrong.
When Rafe insisted on having a reunion sort of Halloween party at his residence and told me they were ready to start treating me like one of the family with my doctoral studies finally ending, I figured they’d surprise me with what I really wanted, that Bane had told his brothers about our love for one another.
I even went as far as to tell Angela I’d given my virginity to someone other than Rafe. She wanted to know who, but I just laughed and told her that he wore a different mask every night. Yet, everyone showed except Bane.
I admit I took one too many drinks. I admit I danced with too many men.
But the man that met me in the upstairs hall with a gruesome mask on didn’t talk just like Bane. He was tall just like Bane and when he beckoned me into a room, I remember thinking this was a bit more twisted than I wanted but I would go with it.
I remember thinking it was him.
Until I remember it wasn’t.
And then I woke in Rafe’s bed.
Torn apart. Ravaged. And broken.
But not in the way Bane would have ever done to me.
Rafe had stolen a different kind of my innocence that night. And as I hurried to gather my clothes, Rafe walked into the room and shook his head at me in a look I’ll never forget.
Disappointment. He glared at me with so much disapproval that my shame spread to every part of my soul.
He swiped my purse from his oak dresser and hissed, “You’re still here?
Jesus, Bianca, how am I going to explain it if someone sees?
Use a driver of ours and go out the back door so that you’re not seen. You shouldn’t have stayed the night.”
Shock at his accusation after what he’d done to me froze the words on my lips. Embarrassment can be planted and watered so easily when a person is a victim, and it can root itself in all the memories it’s attached to, blooming into self-loathing and hate.
I was too ashamed after to admit I’d let it happen, too ashamed to go to Bane about it.
I had caused our destruction, and so I had to endure the outcome.
“I want to know who slept with my daughter.”
Oh my fucking God. Perfect. Just the sort of conversation I was hoping my father would start just two months later. The dinner I’d eaten earlier turned over, too, and I swear, my stomach did a little somersault. If I hadn’t been in such a state of shock, I might’ve laughed.
Or cried although I was trained not to show any of my weaknesses.
We’d all been enjoying the evening my father had so carefully put together.
As a member of the West Coast Diamond Syndicate, he didn’t spare any expense when it came to impressing his partners.
Private ballroom, imported caviar, expensive champagne—you name it.
The whole thing was practically a spectacle.
But tonight? He’d opted for a little bit of embarrassment over entertainment.
He’d signaled to the Black family that he wanted a private conversation and then motioned me into the room with him.
His voice now boomed through the study, rattling the chandeliers.
I swear, he could’ve made a decent career as a professional wrestler with that bellow.
It was intimidating, and somehow way too theatrical.
The words hung in the air like smoke, curling around the Blacks in the room.
Thank God no one else had come in here with us. The cartels and Russians would have gasped and then had a field day of acting like their precious little kids could never possibly be involved in anything remotely as scandalous.
We were near thirty at this point. It was obvious we’d all slept around.
I knew for a fact that every single one of them had been doing that very thing at that party ten weeks ago.
And the best part? I could practically see the looks they would have on their faces when they heard.
Angela, in her demure black dress, would have looked shocked as she whispered to her sister, though I knew better than anyone that her “shocked” face was about as genuine as the pearls around her neck.
And then there would have been Ivan, Angela’s brother, who was proud as hell of being the Pakhan’s son. His sleazy dark eyes would have trailed over me up and down like he wanted every detail of my tryst. Thankfully it was only the Black men flanking me on either side.
Bane, Ezra, and Rafe Black stood stoic near me, Ezra with a bike helmet under his arm like he was ready to flee at any moment, Rafe only half listening, and Bane.
My heartbreak and my soulmate all wrapped into one.
I’d avoided him and his brothers as much as I could these past two months.
I didn’t write in my diary, nor did I leave the window open for Bane to come through.
Instead, I’d found a silly journaling app called Oracle to spill all my secrets to instead.
I knew Bane wouldn’t have access to that at least. It was my only therapy, even if I didn’t confess everything there.
The truth was I couldn’t be near anyone after what had happened at Rafe’s. Not after what I’d pieced together.
Rafe’s arm went around my shoulders, and I stiffened, thinking of the rough hands that pushed into me while I was in his bedroom begging to be let go.
But then Bane’s hand went to the small of my back and I shivered at his touch.
It still felt right even if he’d betrayed me.
I remembered the horrific mask now, one Bane would have never chosen and how it whispered in my ear that he knew about my mask kink.
It was the moment I knew it wasn’t Bane.
It was the moment I realized I’d welcomed another man between my legs.
“He talking about my place?” Rafe whispered, and I cringed at the thought of the morning after.
The truth was, every one of us had our little secrets. But my father’s outburst? It was uncalled for. He’d pushed a private matter into the public, asking for exposure from his closest allies as if he knew someone had disobeyed his requests regarding my sex life.
We could’ve cut the tension with a butter knife. A dull, blunt butter knife. The kind that wouldn’t even make a clean cut through any of the soft cheese on that charcuterie board, let alone something this thick.
I could feel the Blacks’ eyes turning toward me. Mr. and Mrs. Black had the audacity to look disappointed, waiting for me to speak up and answer. I didn’t.
Not only because I was embarrassed but because I couldn’t.
No one was supposed to know about my pregnancy in this room, about the night I could barely remember. I’d only told my mother in a desperate search for a connection in a time where I didn’t have any.
When I hadn’t got my period, I felt the panic, but I felt the devastation more when the bleeding had started. Eight weeks in and I didn’t know how I could save the baby growing inside me, only that I wanted to.
I’d called my mother, I’d begged her to help me, begged her to do anything just this once.
And she’d come, she’d driven me to the hospital, she’d held my hand even as the nurse told me, “You lost a lot of blood. I’m so sorry. There’s nothing we can do to save your baby.”
My baby.
My child.
The only brightness that had come from such dark.
The heart monitor picked up how fast my heart beat, how fast my emotions raced, and then my mother said, “Well, it’s for the best, because your father won’t ever have to know.”
And those words caused something in me to die.
The beating of my heart even slowed as I turned to stare at her.
I hardened my heart. As hard as stone. As hard as a diamond in a Diamond Syndicate would want.
She’d finally done it. Made me one of them.
And now she stood next to my father, with her wavy raven black hair straightened perfectly to frame the high cheekbones she gave me, giving me exactly the same look she’d given me when I accidentally broke that priceless vase when I was five.
That I’m disappointed in you and of course I told your father face.
I had been hoping for sympathy, or maybe support.
She’d even promised that she wouldn’t tell anyone, but I should have known better.
Her loyalty was to my father and the Diamond Society, not her only daughter.
That’s specifically why I’d tried to not wear this pure, white dress tonight. I freaking knew that somehow her words would backfire. “No one knows you were pregnant, Bianca. Or that you shouldn’t be wearing white. So, let’s keep up appearances, okay?”
So much for appearances.