Chapter 39 Scars
SCARS
Present day
Iwoke up to the smell of pasta cooking, my stomach growled loudly, and I groaned as my head pounded. I reached my hand to check my head for a gash, but stopped short. The chain of the handcuffs prevented me from extending my hand. I cursed, pulling against the chain, but it didn’t budge.
“Oh great your awake, you know for a skinny little woman you weigh a ton when your out cold,” Dustin commented, a plate of pasta in his hand.
He took a chair, put it in front of me and sat down.
My eyes tracked the pasta as it slid to one side, the white sauce coating the side of the bread.
He took a bite of the bread and groaned as he chewed.
“It’s good food, you want some?” he offered after he swallowed. I didn’t respond; I just hung there against the wall watching. It was as if he knew I wasn’t going to budge. After a few moments of my continued, stares I groaned.
“Fucking feed me. I am starving,” I caved. I needed the food, and the pasta from an Italian mafia man was otherworldly, or so I heard.
“Now be careful, it’s hot,” he said as he held the fork spun perfectly with the noodles and sauce that was almost dripping on the floor.
I opened my mouth; I was drooling at the smell alone.
The last thing I had eaten was the burger from earlier, and I didn’t even finish it .
It was a shame to waste good food. Dustin held the fork inches out of reach, and I almost cried. The bastard was teasing me.
“Please give me food,” I pleaded. I hated asking and begging for food; it brought back memories I did not want to revisit.
I held my mouth open, and he slid the fork in.
My lips automatically closed around and pulled the food off.
The taste of the fettuccine was amazing.
I had never had something so delicious in my life.
I couldn’t help the moan that escaped as I chewed and swallowed.
Dustin looked at me with cloudy eyes, like he was picturing our other times in life.
I knew he was still reeling from what I said as I attempted to bite back.
He should know that his brother was the one who gave me the scars, even if he couldn’t admit it.
It was his fault. It was strange to admit the man I had casually hooked up with was from The Sartori Sawtooth Mafia, but sometimes shit happens.
I opened my mouth as Dustin served me another bite of the orgasmic food.
Like who the hell cooks that well? It was so fucking good; the rumors were true.
He chuckled after I had consumed half the plate and the bread.
I whined when he set the plate down, but he came back with a glass and tilted it into my mouth.
The notes of alcohol hit my tongue, and I spit it out in his face.
With the shock on his face, his hair dripping in wine, I couldn’t help the bellyaching laugh.
“Oh God I am so sorry,” my laughter spilled out.
Laughter in such a serious situation was never a good thing, but the look of betrayal as the wine splattered against him was too funny.
“Geez, you think a guy would pay more attention on a first date,” I managed around my laughter.
It wasn’t a date, but my mind couldn’t think that fast. It was like a wall came down, and I didn’t even notice. He’s a killer. He tried to kill you.
“You don’t drink,” he remarked after he wiped a towel over his face.
He looked perplexed for a moment before his face paled.
“You don’t drink because of what happened,” he said more seriously.
I shrugged, not really sure of what to say in response.
“I am sorry, it was stupid of me. Usually Chardonnay goes well with the pasta, my mistake,” His tone was sincere, like he meant it.
He gently dabbed the towel across my chin, cleaning up the wine.
As an after thought he pulled off his shirt and tossed it over his head.
The gesture was strange, as if he wanted to remove all traces of the alcohol from my senses.
It was the first time anyone had been that caring.
His bronze abs glowed in the dim light, as his tattoo stood out against his ribs.
The man never missed a workout; that was clear, and I had to close my eyes and blink away the image.
“Thanks,” I managed after a moment. Dustin took a handcuff key and unlocked the chain around my wrist. There wasn’t any malice in his actions, like he truly cared about my mental wellbeing.
I just sat there staring at him. “Why?” I whispered as a tear trailed down my cheek and spattered on the floor.
“I won’t be able to get the truth unless you give it willingly, I see that now.
As much as I could keep you locked away, it wouldn’t help.
Will you tell me?” Dustin’s voice broke, the fear crept in, he didn’t want to hear that his brother he thought was dead all this time was alive.
He lived with grief so long that reality morphed his whole purpose in life.
Purpose that was so focused on revenge, and now he wasn’t so sure.
I sat back against the wall and sighed, “It’s not a pretty story and I won’t sugar coat it.”
“Just tell me,” he begged.
“It was a party, you’ve heard of them I am sure,” I started.
“The infamous Midas parties, yes I have heard of them,” he replied, hanging on to my every word.
I began telling him the story, omitting the parts that didn’t pertain to his brother.
Eight years ago
“I will make the arrangements,” Cole’s words made it reality.
The enforcer. Cole’s position in our twisted criminal organization.
A switch would flip, and he would be that cold stone.
Detached even from me. I stood there, my eyes never leaving Shaw’s as Cole dragged Scott out of the room.
The door slammed closed, and then it was Shaw and me.
“So tell me, are you still the little spoiled princess?” Shaw asked as he began circling around me.
I didn’t understand it at first. The question seemed so familiar, but buried under years of memories.
The funeral. I thought, one of the boys that bullied me.
God, that was so long ago, I don’t remember much after my head slipped under water.
“Are you still the big bully with a loud mouth?” I retorted. It had been years since he tried drowning me at Mom’s funeral; clearly, it was something he never forgot.
“Oh it’s going to be fun to break you,” he commented as he came to face with me. I just smiled. I wasn’t going to give him my fear. He gripped the back of my hair and spat in my face.
The smile died on my lips. I was so screwed. “Do you want a pretty scar to remind you of how much I fight?” I suggested with mock innocence.
“Oh, that is not necessary we will have plenty of time for that later,” he cooed.
“Oh that’s a shame, it — ” The main door opened and my spirit died, my sentence left unfinished.
Midas looked between my naked form and Shaw, a heavy sigh, he loosed, “Oh.”
“Midas — ” Shaw started but Midas cut him off.
“Usually in these situations rule breakers would die, seeing as she is my only daughter I ask that you forgive her carelessness, I will offer you anything but her death,” Midas clasped his hands together, never showing his true anger.
I knew he was enraged, the slight tick of his jaw and the tension in his shoulders.
He wouldn’t openly admit it, but it was there.
“Death would be too easy, I never intended to kill her instead I want to teach her a lesson, one that she will live with for the rest of her life,” Shaw’s darkened expression as he spoke caused goosebumps to rise on my already chilled skin.
“That can be arranged, will this be a public or private setting?” Midas’ voice was too calm.
I held my tongue; it was my punishment to endure, and Midas already agreed.
If I made a scene now, they would kill Scott.
Pin the blame on the stock? I couldn’t do that to him.
Something stirred in me at the idea of Scott being treated like garbage; he was so pure of heart.
Cole, on the other hand, we’d been fighting lately, at odds with each other ever since I ran from him.
He asked too much of me; I would not split my loyalties.
“Oh a private audience, I think we should keep this between the families. Wouldn’t you agree?” Shaw’s voice dripped with venom. I was shaken with unease, my arms wrapped around myself in an attempt to comfort myself.
“That would be the for the best,” Midas agreed as he came to grip my arm.
“Oh there is no need to escort her, she will not need clothes and we have much to discuss on the walk to the study,” Shaw took hold of me, and Midas dropped my arm and made a swift exit.
“What are you going to do to me?” my voice was shaky as we left through the open door.
Shaw’s nails dug into my arm in a vice grip.
I couldn’t run even if I wanted, he was much stronger.
It was like that at Mom’s funeral too, his grip around my tiny body as I beat and kicked against him.
I couldn’t breathe as we walked down the hall.
My heart hammered in my chest, my legs protesting the walk.
My feet still pushed me in the direction despite the protest in my mind.