CHAPTER 70 - ARIANNA
CHAPTER
Arianna
M Y MOUTH IS SO DRY, I can barely swallow, and my feet are so painfully blistered that every step is like walking on burning coals.
My pace has slowed to a futile limp, but I can’t give up.
I’m nowhere near far enough away from the chance of being dragged back.
It’s certain Red and his brothers - possibly some of his men too - are looking for me by now, so I can’t afford to rest.
I stick to the main streets. Despite the late hour, they’re busy with show-goers and drinkers, and although I want to veer off into the shadows, it’s safer remaining within the general bustle.
Whatever threats, aside from Red and his men are out here, there’s less chance of someone striking with witnesses about.
I hobble along, too hot to register the freezing winter night as I scour the road ahead. There are plenty of cabs around, but their signs aren’t illuminated. The second I see one lit as available, I’m having it.
I’m going back to Papà’s.
Getting a distinct and very real sensation prickling my skin that someone is following me, I clutch my handbag close.
However much my feet scream, my pace doesn’t falter.
I’ve felt this prickling on and off since I turned the first corner after leaving the hotel, but now it’s so strong the hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention.
Is it Red?
I glance over my shoulder. There’s no one around who rings my alarm bells, just “normal” people. Christ, I’m so overwrought, tired, and stressed.
I just need a taxi. I want to go home to my family.
Ignoring the burning threat of frustrated tears, I continue up the road. Papà said I’d never see him again. I’m ostracized - banned from my family, but he’ll change his mind once he knows the truth.
I stare at the wedding band Red placed on my finger and with newfound defiance, start pulling it off.
This ring is separating me from my family, so I’ll remove it.
I’ll make a statement to the newspapers too and tell them the marriage is being annulled.
Nothing has been consummated, so I have every right to do that.
Fuck, the ring won’t come off. It has to! It’s this which causes the estrangement. This and my ridiculous idea of believing marrying Red would solve the problems and keep everyone safe.
When I tell Papà what really happened and what I did to Roberto, he’ll put a defense structure in place to protect our family from both Red and the Bristonis.
He won’t be happy about what I’ve done, but I’m his daughter, and the truth explains the real reasoning behind marrying Redmond Bateman.
I’ll be exonerated of the guilt I shoulder and accepted back where I belong.
I continue tugging at the ring. Despite the cold temperature, my fingers are swollen because I’m so hot from walking.
Stopping to the right of a shop doorway, my tears finally spill. I shove my handbag between my knees so I’m free to put more force into removing the ring. I have to get it off. Every second it remains on my finger means longer in my mind that I’m tied to that psychopath.
But the truth is, I’m falling for that psychopath. Or already have...
I can’t stop thinking about Red. Every fiber of me wants him.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. Red was a solution , never anything more than that.
But now he’s become a lot more than that.
At least for me. And I can’t handle it. I don’t know how to handle it.
How can I continue in a fake marriage with someone who I want desperately but who’s only interested in scoring points, meting out violence and who kills on spec?
It’s like life with Roberto all over again - tied to a violent man who wants nothing to do with me, other than what my name offers.
Except in so many ways, Red isn’t like Roberto...
I’m shaking all over, but this time for myself. The prospect of not being with Red, hurts. It actually physically hurts.
Yet it shouldn’t. I should be glad to be finally free from his clutches, but I’m not.
I want him - want him more than I’ve ever wanted anyone or anything, but he’s made it crystal clear that he doesn’t want me.
If I’m totally honest, based on the raging need I have for him, I may even be able to juggle how his violence makes me feel. But one thing I can’t do is love a man - really start loving a man who will never love me?
I have to save myself before I get deeper embroiled in this mess.
Before I can deal with my spiraling thoughts, I’m pulled into the mouth of an alleyway next to a shop. I can’t work out what’s going on. Clawing at the hand clamped over my mouth from behind, I twist from left to right.
Red’s found me!
Fury now outweighs any lust I have for him, and my leg lashes out backwards, the aim being to slam his shin with my stiletto. I make contact, but it has no effect.
It’s then that I realize the hand over my mouth smells unwashed and of cheap cigarettes.
Fear shrouds me.
It doesn’t smell of Red...
“People really are stupid to allow their possessions to wander alone around the streets.”
For the first time, I freeze with the chill of the night air. Or is my blood turning to ice?
This isn’t Red’s voice, nor a voice I recognize. I try to turn, but I’m held fast against this man. And he’s a big man - tall and wide, his forearm thick with muscle.
“There’s no point making a scene, little Italian whore,” the voice continues. “No one can hear you.”
Wait! I have heard that voice before, but I can’t think where. And whoever this is knows I’m Italian.
How?
“Right then, my sweet little manipulative bitch, it’s time to take something from Red Bateman and from you.”
The voice is raspy; it sends shivers through my body even though I’m held immobile by a vice-like grip from this stranger’s arm.
“Yeah, sweetcheeks, this is payment for what you’ve taken from my family.”
Payment? Bile rushes up my throat.
The Bristonis? This is one of Bristoni’s men?
Panic swirls. Red told me not to go anywhere alone, but I did it anyway. “The threat is real,” he said. And he was right .
Shit. SHIT!
Rapidly regretting bolting from the hotel, I’m paralyzed with fear, silently working out if there’s a way I can get out of this. Will this man - this Bristoni thug - kill me here, or will he take me somewhere to face the wrath of Edoardo Bristoni himself?
Before I can formulate further thought, the arm keeping my back held against the muscular chest behind me drops, fingers now ripping into the top of my dress.
Oh God.
I’m spun around, fingers roughly grasping at my breasts, the back of my head connecting with the dank wall of the alleyway. I barely feel the pain as my skull thuds against the slimy bricks.
I scrabble to focus in the dim light, seeing a man’s face shrouded by a baseball cap pulled low and a necktie pulled over his mouth. But those eyes...
I recognize the eyes...
“Okay, Eyetie whore, let’s see what you’re made of.” The man hoists my dress up, his grubby hand pulling at my panties. Twisting, I kick out, this time connecting harder with his shin. He winces, but it’s not enough to stop him.
My whole body internally screams in revulsion as his thick, stinking fingers force their way inside me. I twist my head, dislodging his hand over my mouth enough to sink my teeth into the fleshy pad of his palm.
“You bitch!” he roars, snatching his hand away from my mouth.
I now have the chance to scream, but before I can, the man backhands me, knocking the air from me.
My head rebounds off the wall again, his fingers pushing higher and harder inside me: grubby fingernails scratching my intimate flesh.
Vomit surges, but on hearing a zip undo, my only aim is to get away.
Then I’m on the floor, my dress fully ripped open, his hands everywhere. The back of my head scrapes against the filth of the alleyway floor as I thrash about to push off the weight that’s now on top of me.
I can’t! He’s too heavy and strong.
A forearm shoves against my mouth, acting as a gag and forcing my head back at the worst angle. The side of my face is in a puddle of water or piss, my panic absolute as the thick head of his cock pushes for entrance between my legs.
Whimpering under his weight, I clamp my thighs together, but I’m no match for his brute force .
The clanging in my head gets louder.
This bastard will rape and kill me, and there’s nothing I can do about it.
Why did I run from the hotel? Why did I run from Red? As much as he freaks me out with his behavior, he wouldn’t let something like this happen. He’d kill first.
I can’t believe my life will end like this.
I’ll never get the chance to tell Red I’m sorry I fucked up, and I’ll never be able to tell Papà the truth.
I’ll die being seen as a traitor.