Chapter 6
SUNDAY
The moment I agreed, Santiago acted fast.
He left me tied to the chair for four hours. Only the clock behind me alerted me to that as it chimed every hour.
By the time he returned, I could hardly feel my throat it was so parched. My wrists were running blood from the ties cutting into them, and I needed to pee as a matter of urgency.
“We’re leaving.” He announces as he slices the ties binding my wrists before removing a gun from his jacket and pointing it at my head.
“It’s time to head home, honey. Our home. We have a wedding to organize.”
His touch is rough, cruel, and painful as he grips my wrist, his nails tearing into the cut. Pulling me hard along with him toward the door where a couple of silent soldiers stand, their expressions grim.
We head out of the door toward a waiting car, and as he pushes me inside, he joins me soon after. The door slamming and the engine starting, almost in one fluid movement.
“Home?” I can barely speak, needing water but also to pee, and he nods.
“Of course. You don’t think I want to live in Maine when I much prefer the climate in Los Angeles. We are heading to my private jet, and if you’re good, I’ll let you have some water.”
I want to cry so badly. This is too horrific for words. So much for my new beginning. I have barely settled in, and I’m being dragged back to hell.
“If I agree, you’ll stop terrorizing my father. His debt will be paid.”
“Of course.”
He shrugs. “It was always about you, Josephine. It was never about him.”
His fingers slide up my dress and lie resting on my thigh; his touch burns, his intention clear.
“I have always wanted you; you know that. When I first set eyes on you, I was aware mine weren’t the only ones. You were a popular girl and I like the best. I bided my time, though, and now look at us. The happy couple in waiting.”
His fingers move higher, edging my panties aside, and I swallow hard, my throat burning and my tears not far off.
“I wanted to touch you so badly back then. To walk with you, be seen with you, hold you and love you. You always were a statement. The prize even. But you were blinded by the more popular guys who thought they could touch what was mine.”
His voice lowers, his tone angry. “Jarred Benson paid the price for that.”
“What do you mean?”
His reference to my boyfriend from high school is worrying.
“Oh, didn’t you hear? He washed up on Malibu Beach a few weeks ago.
At first, they thought it was a shark attack, but then they discovered his throat had been cut.
Terrible business because it attracted the sharks and there wasn’t much left at the end of it.
Such a promising career in the movies, gone by the switch of a blade. ”
My blood freezes. “You!”
“Of course, honey. He touched you. He took what was mine to take. I was supposed to be your first everything. I may have missed out on that pleasure, but I swear to God I’ll be your last everything.”
He rubs his crotch, groaning as he slides my panties aside and hisses, “I can’t wait to taste you down there. To slide inside you, to own you.”
His voice brightens, but he continues to rub his crotch relentlessly, breathing, “I’m going to tattoo your pussy with my name. I’ve chosen the design already. Property of Santiago De Sauro. The words twisted around a knife. It may hurt a little, but worth it, don’t you think, honey?”
I say nothing; the full horror of my situation unfolding around me like a breaking storm.
He is mad. Delusional and dangerous.
“Yes, my darling. By the time I have finished, my name will be all over your body. My seed inside your womb and my children in your belly. I will teach you to be the perfect wife. You will learn it the hard way if you don’t cooperate, and if you ever try to escape me, I will slit your pretty little throat, but not before I chop your father up before your eyes, followed by your brothers. ”
I’m going to be sick, and I retch; the meager contents left in my stomach spraying the car. At least it stops him rubbing himself, and he slaps me hard across the face yelling, “You fucking bitch. You ruined my outfit.”
He slams my head face down in his crotch, the stench unbelievable, and grips my neck, pushing my face in deeper, his erection hard against my lips.
“Do you like that honey? Can you feel how hard I am for you? Would you like a taste? It can be arranged.”
He laughs like a maniac and then says in a high childish voice, “But not until we’re married, honey. You don’t get to experience the pleasure before you’ve paid for your disobedience.”
Thank fuck for that.
He pulls me back by my hair, the pain intense as he glares at me.
“You really are a mess, honey. Don’t worry, as soon as we’re home, I’ll clean you up personally.”
He screws up his eyes as he peers at me with a critical expression.
“You’ve really let yourself go. Perhaps we should start again from scratch.”
Once again, I say nothing as he twists my head, still holding onto my hair, and sighs.
“Perhaps the hair will be the first thing to go. It can grow back stronger that way. Yes, I will strip you back and build you in the image I want you to be. Josephine De Sauro will be magnificent because that is what I deserve. Blonde doesn’t suit you.
I prefer dark red hair. Perhaps I should paint your body red too. That would be fun.”
I swear I’m about to pass out because I never knew until now that Santiago isn’t just an evil man; he’s a total psychopath, and if I don’t escape him real fast, my life is about to become a horror story.