Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
SLOANE
“ H old still, little sheep. I might even make it feel good for you,” Giani says, panting as he spreads my legs and rips through the panties that I was given to wear earlier.
Fighting him seems futile, but I do it anyhow. I’m not like the girls he usually takes advantage of. Nor do I want to be. You can choose how to handle situations where your life and limb hang in the balance. And I choose to fight with everything I have.
Frustration makes Giani growl, slurring derogatory words at me as he wrestles me.
“Hold. Fucking. Still!” he snarls, grasping my throat in his hand and pinning me with my head over the side of the bed. I was so close to where I could’ve gotten away.
At least, that’s what I tell myself.
“You would’ve liked it. But now, I’m going to make it fucking hurt, little sheep. Because even though I love your fire, I’d rather get this over with. Just like you.”
“What’s my buyer going to think?” I choke out. “You’re damaging goods. He might never purchase a girl from you again. He might bury your entire operation. You’re going to be ruined by me. Because I won’t keep silent.”
He tightens his grip as he looks down at me. There are windows right behind me, on the side of the bed. They cast illumination from the moon over his face. It makes him look more menacing.
“You dare taunt me?” he asks through gritted teeth.
What do I have to lose?
If he’s going to rape me, I might as well try to throw him off-kilter beforehand.
His eyes turn calculating, as if he’s considering my words.
“You’re not worth the fucking trouble. I’m going to charge him double. There’s no fucking way I’ll accept you back. And I know he’s going to want to bring you back.”
His words don’t bother me. I’ve spent my life with two junkies telling me how fucking awful I am. There comes a point when you believe it.
“Get off me,” I snarl, leaning up the best I can and hissing in his face.
“You’re lucky I don’t have the energy to fight you, girl. Or you’d be bloody when I got done.”
He fears whoever is buying me; it was a shot in the dark that he would. Thank all that’s holy for that.
When he gets off me, he takes a moment to stand at the edge of the bed. It’s like he’s still considering his options. I lie there, panting air into my lungs as I wait for his decision.
He turns and leaves the room. The lock turns after he’s in the hall.
I can’t help it. I burst into tears.
Fear rattles in my chest as I roll onto my side and purge it all out.
There’s no way out of this hell, but my fighting spirit might keep me alive, or it could get me killed.
I spent the rest of the night with my eyes on the door, never falling back to sleep until light crested through the windows near the bed.
“Come on, sleepyhead. We need to get you ready,” a woman says, shaking me to rouse me.
I open my eyes, groggily moaning as I turn over and run them over to another woman dressed in a similar maid uniform to the woman who had bathed me yesterday.
“Why do I have to get ready? I’m being sold today?”
She smiles, but it doesn’t meet her eyes, and I have to wonder if she, too, is a hostage—one he wants to keep.
“You’re going somewhere better than here,” she says, pulling the covers off my body.
I hastily shove the nightgown down because Giani had ripped my panties to shreds the night before.
“You’re sure it’s better than here?”
It’s unbelievable that I’m even considering letting excitement thrum through me at the thought of being somewhere safer than here.
I’d been free a few weeks ago. Now, men who don’t even know my name think they have the right to sell and exchange me like a piece of expensive art.
“Anywhere is better than here,” she whispers as she helps me out of my nightgown and ushers me into the bathroom.
For the next hour, I washed my hair, put it into an updo, and applied makeup to my face. She dresses me in a black silk gown that touches the floor but stresses my breasts for show.
“Come, Mr. Barone is waiting for you.”
I swallow as fear gambols through me because I don’t know that name. I have very little knowledge of the five families , but that’s not a last name I’ve ever heard tied to theirs.
Which means he’s a powerful man in his own right. One that doesn’t need the backing of his family to have influence.
I follow the woman who wouldn’t give me her name. Even though I begged her to tell me that once I find my way free, I could return for her.
She’s too afraid to speak a word against Giani.
She leads me into his office, which I’ve already been in. My eyes wander over where Tommaso’s eyes had gone lifeless on the marble floors, and I swallow.
“Mm, keep that in mind, little sheep,” Giani says, and my eyes flick up towards him.
A man sits before his desk, relaxed into a chair with a leg crossed over the other—the epitome of power, even from behind.
“She’s a fast learner, this one,” Giani tells the man, and I have to hold my tongue so as not to start something before I know this new man, my new prison guard.
“Come, little sheep, show Matteo what he’s bought.”
The man growls, standing and turning to look me over.
He’s got soft brown eyes, and Giani’s hardness is missing from his face. Still, he turns back to Giani and scowls, almost as if he doesn’t like what he sees.
I swallow over a stretching lump in my throat.
“Don’t call her that. You’ve no right to give my property pet names.”
Despite myself, I beam as he defends me against Giani.
Right before berating myself for the relief I’d let wash through me.
I’m still a prisoner, and I need to remember as much.
Matteo shoves his hands in his pockets as I watch fear lick over Giani’s features. What kind of man intimidates the head of one of the five families ?
“She’s different from the others,” Matteo says, walking around me. He runs a finger up my neck slowly, testing something.
I grimace, fighting a shiver.
“What do you mean? Does she not meet expectations? I can dispose of her and get you another, but I require time to clean another.”
Matteo looks at Giani as if disgusted by the conditions he’s keeping all the girls in. This man might be impressionable. I might sway him to set me free. To save all the girls in the basement.
But if my life is any sign of how things go for me, I try not to let hope build in my chest.
“No. She is fine. But she’s got an energy about her.”
Giani laughs, sitting back in his chair. “I forget your mother was half Romani Gypsy, Barone. She gave you her fucked-up way of thinking. She’s only a common street whore. Picked her up near Tremont.”
My teeth grind together at his words. I’ve never used my body like my mom does. Nor would I ever.
“You have to forgive men like him. They’ll always use those weaker than them to grasp for power,” Matteo says, and Giani narrows his eyes at the man but doesn’t deny his claim.
“And you’re any better?” I ask, knowing I should keep my mouth shut, but also knowing that’s not who I am at my core.
Matteo rounds in front of me, looking down his nose at me from his towering height. “You’re very brave.”
I swallow. Something about his tone makes me feel less courageous by the second. He exudes an overwhelming authority. Dread is digging pits in my stomach as the seconds tick past.
“She is,” Giani agrees from behind Matteo.
Matteo doesn’t give him the time of day, only winces as if Giani’s voice has grated on his nerves.
“We’ll fix that,” Matteo says, rearing back and backhanding me across the face. The force and sting of the slap send me to my knees.
I fall forward, leaning on my hands as I breathe through the pain.
“Apologize,” Matteo growls.
Resentment builds inside me—the kind that could get me killed.
But death is better than this.
Matteo’s shiny shoes move before I realize what’s about to happen. The toe of his shoe connects with my stomach and knocks the wind out of me. I flatten on the floor, turning on my side and tucking into the fetal position.
Tears slide down my cheeks.
“Apologize,” Matteo growls again, circling me like a shark that smells blood in the water.
I clamp my teeth together tightly.
Another kick lands on my stomach, and something snaps inside me as if he’s burst an organ with the blow.
“Apologize.”
The more he commands my apology, the colder his tone gets.
This is why Giani is afraid of this man. He’s devoid of life entirely.
He crouches before me—a gold ring on his pinky sparkles in the lights. Blood tinges my tongue, the metallic taste staining my senses. “I love tenacity, I do. But you’ll behave for me. Do you understand me? If I have to break the undomesticated, feral side of you, I will. Though I’d rather you and I just have fun together.”
I swallow, tears mixing with the blood bubbling from my lips. Concern is growing that I’m internally bleeding, but neither of these men cares.
He’s going to break me.
And I swore no one ever would. That even the world wouldn’t ruin me.
“Let’s talk price, shall we, Adamo?” Matteo says, standing straighter and walking back over to the chair where he sits nonchalantly after opening the button on his suit jacket.
And even though it’s very ignorant, I feel like I’ve won this round.
Even if I am bloody and reeling, I didn’t yield.
“She’s double my normal price,” Giani says as I struggle onto my feet again, jutting my chin in the air with pride.
“Naturally,” Matteo says, unperturbed.
Giani’s face says he realizes he could have asked for even more than he had.
While I don’t know how much he’s selling innocent women for, I hope someone fucking kills him for his operation.
And I hope that it’s me.
Matteo presses some buttons on his phone, texts someone, and then pockets it. “Transfer complete.”
He stands and heads toward me, gripping my arm firmly.
“Have fun with that one. I look forward to your future business once you’ve buried her. Knowing she’s six feet under will be a blessing,” Giani spouts.
Matteo’s face changes as he reaches inside his jacket and pulls a gun from a holster that looks much like what the old-school cops wore.
He points it at Giani, eyes going lifeless. “Watch how you speak about my property.”
Giani throws his hands in the air. “I was just saying.”
As we enter the hall, Matteo shoves me toward two other men in all black. “Blindfold and bind her. Gag her smartass mouth and get her into the van.”
“Yes, Boss,” they both say in unison.
Emotion is coiling in my throat, but I don’t breathe life into it. I walk with them, chin in the air, I plaster fake pride on my face as I move with the two henchmen out of the building toward a blacked-out van.
“Don’t make this harder on yourself than it has to be,” one tells me.
Something drifts in his eyes, but I can’t grasp it.
“You won’t be here for long,” he whispers, and I narrow my eyes at him.
What the hell does that mean?