FUCK IT!
D ays pass, and I can’t stop smiling.
Every five minutes, I check my phone to see if Dante has replied to my messages. Every night he doesn’t come to my room, he calls and sings me to sleep. Whenever I’m downstairs with Mum or my father, I hide my phone and my excitement, letting it eat me alive until I’m alone and can reply to him.
My father has been distant, and I’m relieved. He doesn’t come to my room at night, watch me take a shower, or hit me anymore. The only thing he wants is for me to watch the videos he gave me… but they’re making me feel strange.
Someone knocks on the door.
“Dante’s here, pet,” Mum says.
I blush and stare at my phone.
Me: You could have told me!
Dante: If I had, it wouldn’t be a surprise. Come here ;).
I giggle, stand up, and follow Mum downstairs. She smiles and hugs me as we reach the entrance.
“You don’t know how happy I am to see you like this,” she says.
“I haven’t changed.”
“You have, mo chroí .” She cups my face. “You’re beaming with happiness.”
Heat gathers in my cheeks. I hug Mum once more, then glance at my father. His dark gaze pierces mine.
“Eleven o’clock,” he warns.
I don’t reply. I’m done following his rules. I want to be free. Thinking by myself and for myself is the first step.
In the driveway, Dante leans against his car, hands in his pockets, exuding a nonchalant posture that makes him look effortlessly attractive. The moment he sees me, his face lights up, and a smile spreads across his lips.
When I reach him, he wraps an arm around my waist. I rise onto my tiptoes and plant a quick kiss on his lips.
“I missed you, ragnetta .”
“You literally saw me two nights ago,” I whisper.
“I always miss you when you’re not around. I thought you’d figured out by now that I’m clingy.”
I laugh. He cups my cheek and leans in closer.
“Can I kiss you?”
My eyebrows rise. Was he waiting for permission?
“Always.”
A smirk tugs at his lips before he presses them to mine. The kiss is deeper, more intimate than the one in the meadow—or maybe it just feels that way because of what I’ve been watching.
My breath quickens, especially when his hand moves to my hip and a bulge press against my belly.
Is that—
“We’re running late,” he says in a husky voice. “Let’s go.”
He opens the car door. When I sit down, he buckles my seatbelt and steals a kiss in the process.
“Greedy.”
“You have no idea how much I’ve been dying to taste your lips again, amore .”
I blush as he closes the door and walks around to the driver’s side. Glancing back at the house, I catch Mum smiling at me, but her smile disappears the moment my father yanks her inside.
A knot forms in my throat.
“Are you okay?” Dante asks.
I force a smile and nod.
The radio starts playing as soon as he starts the engine. Music fills the air, and then a familiar song catches my attention.
“I thought you made that song up just for me!” I pout. “I felt special.”
There’s an opera on the radio. Dante sings that same song softer, faster, like a lullaby. They’re completely different.
“You are special, ragnetta .” He smiles. “You’re the only person I’ve ever sung to.”
My heart flutters like it has grown wings.
How messed up am I if I even like the way his teeth look when he grins? A month ago, I hadn’t noticed how white they are or how sharp his fangs look, or how much I wanted to feel them against my skin.
He places his hand on my thigh, and I can’t help but imagine him gripping it firmly, keeping me spread open for him.
This is embarrassing.
The videos I’ve watched stir unfamiliar feelings. Most show two people together, and they make me feel... strange. I haven’t talked to anyone about it. I’m scared it will hurt, like it did when I was kidnapped. They were never gentle, and I don’t want to associate Dante with that pain...
But I want him. I want him to touch me, to please me. I want to learn how to please him—to own him. I want everything he has to offer.
Sadly, fear wins this time, so I’ll keep that to myself.
It’s eight o’clock when Dante parks in front of my house.
Today, he took me to the cinema and then out to dinner again.
Afterward, we strolled through the city, eating ice cream and talking about movies.
He promised me that, once we’re married, he’ll take me to the café again and buy all the flavours for me to try because I couldn’t choose just one, and I ended up picking randomly.
“Do you want me to come by later, or are you already sick of me?” he teases.
I roll my eyes.
“So dramatic.”
“You’re the one to talk,” he laughs. “Should I remind you who was nearly screaming from that rooftop?”
I smile... until I look towards the house and my stomach clenches.
My father is pacing around the garden, his phone pressed to his ear. He looks furious, which usually means he’ll drink. And after that, he’ll either beat me or sneak into my room.
I don’t want this day to end.
I’m tired of his commands, his fury, his fists. I’m tired of living under his shadow. So, fuck it! I’m over twenty. He can arrange a marriage with a stranger if he likes, but I’ll decide what to do with my life.
Dante has given me that choice, and I’ll take it.
For once, I want to feel truly alive. Not the frightened girl I was before the kidnapping. Not the shattered woman I’ve become.
I look at Dante, my decision made. Tilting my head, I ask, “What if we go to your place?”
His eyebrows shoot up.
“My place? Are you sure?”
“Yeah. We’re going to get married anyway. I’m an adult—my father shouldn’t care about what I do.”
“Are you completely sure?”
“Yes.”
He sighs, though a soft laugh escapes him as he shakes his head and starts the engine.
“You’ll get us into trouble, sweetheart.”
I didn’t expect him to live in a place like this. Certainly not a mansion, but maybe something bigger.
He has a bedroom and a small bathroom. The kitchen blends into the living room, where there’s a sofa and a modest coffee table in the middle. On the balcony, there’s a single large plant I don’t recognise, but it looks pretty. His bedroom has a king-size bed, some simple furniture, and a closet.
Everything is spotless. Does he clean, or does someone do it for him?
“I know it’s not much,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “But when we get married, I’ll take you somewhere better.”
I turn to him and smile. “It’s not bad. Besides, I don’t care about that. I just need you.”
His eyes brighten, and my heart flutters all over again. He steps closer, his warmth wrapping around me as he presses a soft kiss to my hair.
“You deserve better,” he murmurs. “I’d give you the moon if I could.”
“I haven’t done anything to deserve that,” I reply quietly.
He shakes his head, his hand grazing my waist. “You are a person. You exist. That’s reason enough, ragnetta .”
I close my eyes and sigh, pressing my head to his chest. But a warning flashes in my mind, and I freeze, realising the situation I’m in.
I’m alone in his house—my fiancé’s house. He could hurt me. Beat me. Even kill me, and no one would know.
Trust him.
“I don’t bite,” he whispers.
Oh, God. Does he know I’m scared?
“Unless you ask me to,” he adds, and it sounds as if he’s smiling.
I could stop this now. I could walk away, end it before it begins… But I don’t want to. I want to be with him, I want to give him my trust.
I look up until I catch his smiling face, my fingers trembling as they reach the buttons of his shirt. He watches me intently. Heat pools low in my belly, and my chest feels heavier.
I want him to touch me. To consume me. To make me his… But even though I’ve started this, he doesn’t move.
“I think I’ll accept a few bites,” I whisper.
His eyes flicker, and a grin spreads across his lips. “You want me to touch you?”
I swallow hard and nod.
It’s like flipping a switch. One of his hands darts to my neck, pulling me toward him with an urgency that takes my breath away. His kiss is demanding, possessive. My own hands are moving on their own, fumbling with his shirt.
We stumble clumsily toward the bedroom, tossing our clothes aside. I help him with my trousers while he kisses me and pulls his down.
My heart is racing so fast I feel my pulse everywhere. I wonder if he can feel it when he unclasps my bra and makes me sit on the edge of the bed to take off my knickers.
I do everything he wants me to; my brain is burning with the heat of the moment. But then Dante steps away from me.
We both trail our eyes over each other’s bodies. He’s down to his boxers, and his erection is straining against the fabric. He’s got even more tattoos and scars on his torso, even on his thighs, though the one that catches my eyes is a statue of a woman surrounded by flowers I don’t recognise.
I focus on his scars, some are larger than others, and while I’m practically drooling over him, I wonder how he got those.
His gaze lingers on my bare breasts. I have a couple of scars there. I fight the urge to cover myself. I don’t have to hide… But what if he realises I’m disgusting and regrets this? Is that why he pulled away?
He’s going to ask me to leave.
He’ll leave me, that’s it. He’ll—
He holds my hand and presses it to his chest, right over the tattoo.
His heart is pounding as fast and hard as mine.
“I’m as nervous as you are, amore ,” he whispers. “Don’t be scared.”
“I’m not—”
He nods toward my free hand. It’s trembling uncontrollably. Embarrassed, I close my eyes and pull it away. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. We don’t have to do anything. We could watch a movie, talk, whatever you want.”
When I open my eyes, he’s only a few inches away, a reassuring smile softening his face. I lift my hand to his cheek. He closes his eyes and leans into my touch. My thumb brushes over the scar on his skin.
He smiles, and I can’t help but wonder...
“How did you get this?” I ask softly.
“Fighting for someone.”
I arch my eyebrows. Maybe that’s why he got the statue. “Was it worth it?” I can’t imagine anyone being okay with ruining their face for someone else.
“Every scar,” he replies without hesitation.
Something strange stirs in my chest. I lower my hand to his neck and gently pull him toward me. He presses his body against mine, his hands grazing over my thighs and bottom.
He’s as soft as he was that day in the meadow, but now there’s a desperate need in his touch. Yet, he remains just as careful and caring.
His hand glides to the back of my thigh, effortlessly lifting me as he lowers me onto the bed, his body hovering over mine.
“Spread her open. I want to break her.”
No…
His hand brushes over my nipple.
His teeth sink into my skin so hard I’m certain he’ll tear me apart. A screeching scream rips from my throat, but it only makes them laugh. They keep biting, one after the other, each new spot burning.
I’m about to beg again when one of them forces himself inside me.
He kills me.
“I can’t,” I gasp, jerking away. “Please, please, let me go.”
“It’s okay, Lana. You’re—“
“You’re delicious, kid. I can’t wait for you to be all mine.”
I close my eyes and kick the man in front of me. I crawl away until my back hits the headboard, frantically covering myself as much as I can.
Please, leave. Leave me alone. I want to be alone. I can’t do this anymore. I don’t want any more torture.
His hands grip my wrists, forcing them away from my body.
“Please, let me go!”
He doesn’t.
He pulls me onto his lap, his legs pinning mine in place as he wraps his arms around me. My hands are trapped against my belly, his breath warm against my neck. I thrash, desperate to break free, but it’s useless.
I’m useless.
I shouldn’t have suggested this. I’ve doomed myself. I’m—
“I’m right here, amore . I won’t hurt you. You’re safe, do you hear me? You are safe.”
Dante.
But he—
“I promise you’re safe. I swear, cara mia. 10 I won’t hurt you. It’s okay. You’re okay.”
I glance down at my body. He’s not restraining me to force me. He’s... comforting me. His arms wrap around me, holding me close as he repeats the same words over and over again.
I’m safe.
I’m with him.
I’m not alone.
A sob tears through me, and I burst into tears. My body goes limp in his arms. He gently rocks me from side to side, trying to soothe me, just like the other day. Only this time, he doesn’t ask me to speak.
And after a few moments, I shut down.
Notes:
10. Cara mia: My dear.