Chapter 8
L EILANI
Dinner is uneventful. It’s a big table since we have guests. It’s mostly people I don’t know.
I already resent how my family has changed the dynamics of this place.
Without them here, I’d be on the terrace in the back with a platter of seafood and a glass of wine.
The lights would be dim.
The breeze would be wistful and melancholic like the place, and my mind would wander as I’d peer into the dark, thinking about him.
The lights dancing along the shore would feed my soul.
I’d imagine him and me having dinner, chatting over a glass of wine, discussing important matters, without forgetting to be flirtatious from time to time.
None of that is possible now.
The lights are bright, the crowd is loud, and the entire staff moves around, catering to our needs.
Servers constantly bring platters of food to the table as if feeding an army.
Rory’s eyes meet mine as we’re probably thinking about the same thing.
Both smiling, we focus on our desserts.
Ten o’clock comes and goes, and I think nothing of Julian’s threats when he walks onto the terrace with a girl on his arm.
When did he get a girlfriend? Is she his girlfriend?
I observe my grandparents as they interact with them.
They both seem to know the woman. She’s pretty and relaxed in his presence.
She clearly doesn’t know what he is capable of.
He ignores me, which works for me.
Other than that, everything seems fine, like we’ve never had that conversation, and his threats only meant to make me angry.
I move my eyes to my plate and finish my dessert, and later, I have drinks with Rory on the terrace.
We talk about my visit to town without giving her many details, and then we finally chat about the things we usually like to talk about. Shoes, dresses, and men.
We laugh and have a good time, and I’m ecstatic that no one in my family interrupts us.
I almost forget what their presence here is all about when I notice Flavia sneaking by the pool and entering the house.
How come she hasn’t had dinner with us?
Weird woman. Like her sister.
She has her hair pulled up into a bun and wears a beige dress with a draped neckline and open back.
What did Joseph O’Connor see in her?
I’ll never know.
I zap that thought back with a flick of my hand.
“What was that all about?” Rory asks, amused.
“Nothing.”
We chat a little longer and call it a night at around eleven. She walks to her room while I make a beeline for mine.
The house feels like any other night.Safe, predictable, with its windows open, and a breeze that makes me think about the sea.
I push the door open and walk in.
Nona lit a few candles and left a tall glass of lemonade on the wall table.
Smiling, I kick off my shoes and start unfastening my waistband button to take off my skirt when a swift movement, like the blurring motion of a bird in flight, locks two arms around me from behind.
Squeezing me like pliers, they pull me toward the bed.
Never in a million years would I have thought that something like this would happen in my house.
A fight ensues before it crosses my mind to scream for help.
His hand comes promptly over my face, muffling my voice and cutting off my oxygen.
I choke and cough, and he starts speaking.
“What did I tell you, you little whore. You think I’m fucking with you?” Julian sneers in my ear.
My hackles rise.
“Are you crazy?” I shout beneath his hand as he drags me toward the bed.
Dark laughter rings behind me.
“Are you being stupid like that? All right.”
He shifts his direction and pushes me into the walk-in closet, where he drops me to the floor and shuts the door.
A long belt dangles from his hand as I turn and look at him from the floor.
This room may not be soundproof like the reading room, but it’s still one of the most isolated and quiet spaces in the house.
Unless Nona or Rory walks in, which is highly improbable, no one can hear us, and he must know that.
A sardonic grin curves his lips.
“You know I’ve been watching you for a while. You’ve become quite a tease with your long hair, sexy legs, and juicy tits.”
I crawl back, away from him, looking for something to grab and fight him.
He walks calmly toward me.
“A tease? You haven’t seen me in a while, you idiot.”
“You were always a tease for me. And by the way,” he says, slowly unbuttoning his shirt.
I watch him in disbelief.
Where the fuck is his girlfriend? Where are the guards? Where are the people who are supposed to be watching me?
Callum said someone would follow me back home. I haven’t seen anyone all the way here.
He didn’t lie, did he?
I hope not.
I don’t think I can take another betrayal.
Maybe they saw Julian and me and thought nothing of it. Julian is family now. As much as Callum is family now.
I don’t understand.
Why is this happening to me?
He pulls his shirt out of his pants, takes it off, and tosses it on the floor before he turns to me, bare-chested.
“You ignored my request, so I’ll punish you.”
“You’re crazy. Get away from me,” I bark, my back hitting the wall.
I try to push up and face him when he lunges at me, grabs the root of my neck, and almost kisses me before he changes his mind, spins me around, and makes me press my knees onto the footstool.
“You stay like that for me, and you’ll only get a good spanking tonight. You challenge me, and I’ll fuck you raw.”
The way he talks sounds like he’s salivating at the prospect.
“I’m not doing shit,” I say, pulling up in defiance, when his iron-hard hand comes fast to me and presses my neck down, until I look at him with half of my face smashed against the footstool.
Head pressed against the velvet stool, I spit at him.
“Do that again, and I’m gonna fuck you.”
“Do that again, and you’ll be dead.”
Laughing, he undoes his fly.
I close my eyes, unwilling to have the image of his erect dick imprinted in my memory.
“Don’t worry, doll. It’s not for you. I need to touch myself while I’m punishing you.”
“You’re dead, Julian.”
“Shut up. You might like it.”
I try to reach his legs and even punch him in the balls, but he is tall and muscular enough to keep me under control.
He grabs my hemline and slides my skirt over my bum.
“White panties. How fetching,” he says, and the first time his belt snaps across my ass makes me scream in agony.
“Do that again. Scream for me, pumpkin. It gets me hard.”
Logically, I stay quiet as he hits my rear nineteen more times.
By the time he’s finished, my ass burns as if I sat on a stove. I curse him loudly so he knows how I feel about him before he starts moving toward the door.
I side-eye him, panting and grimacing, as he fixes his fly on his way out.
“You tell anyone about this, and I’ll tell everyone that you’re dying to fuck Callum O’Hara. And by the way, I’ll deny everything you say about me. They know you’re crazy and like to make things up.”
“They think the same about you.”
“Perfect,” he says, winking at me. “It’s gonna be your word against mine. No one will believe either of us. Plus, they have bigger things to worry about.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask, pushing upright.
“Your future husband.”
“What?”
“Uh-huh.”
A knowing grin tilts his lips.
“What do you know about my future husband?”
“Uh…”
He props his hand against the doorframe and glances up, running his fingers through his hair.
“I don’t know whether you should know more about this. Maybe it should be a surprise.”
I rise, my skirt falling over my rear.
“Please tell me,” I say evenly, trying not to look too interested in what he has to say. “What do you know about my future husband?” I ask again.
He searches my eyes with great satisfaction.
Nothing makes him feel better than the idea that he has something that I want.
“He’s old, ugly, and will stop at nothing to have you. He’s also one of the most dangerous men in Italy. You’ll have a lot of fun with him,” he adds with dark humor as I let it sink in.
Is he bluffing?
It would totally fit his style, yet something tells me that this is real.
“How do you know all this?’ I ask, hoping that his answer will hint at the fact that this is only some invention of his.
Who is Julian York to know anything about this business? On the other hand, who is Flavia to speak with a Consigliere ?
“People are in the habit of whispering in this house. When they do that, they ignite my curiosity. It’s not hard to hear bits and pieces of their conversations. Even names.”
His voice trails off as he gauges my reaction.
He’s taunting me.
“You’re fucking with me.”
“You think so?”
His reply is filled with resentment, and my gut tells me he knows something.
“What names?”
He moves back to me, stops, and picks up a strand of my hair.
“What do I get if I tell you, little bird? Do you know how to suck dick? Will you allow me to lick your sweet pussy?”
Normally, his words would render a slap across his face and would be followed by a screaming match, but something tells me to be cautious.
“A name, Julian. I need a name, and I swear that no one will know about your filthy mouth or the corporal punishment you have applied to me tonight. Just give me a name.”
He plays with me for a few more seconds, enjoying how nicely I’m talking to him and how polite I am.
“When they marry you to that guy, your life will be over. There is no way out. You will think fondly about this moment and me. You’ll probably regret that you haven’t fucked me,” he says, smiling cunningly. “I could show you some good time before you get trained to fondle that man’s old balls.”
“Give me a name,” I say firmly.
Just like that, his smile vanishes, and he leans toward me and speaks through clenched teeth.
“Stefano Varela. They’ll marry you to Stefano Varela.”
My mouth falls open while he straightens, throws his head back, and gives me a smirk.
“Have a good night, little whore. And think about my words. My offer still stands.”
He nods and moves away while I let out a long exhale.
My eyes trail down as I try to understand what that means.
Who is this man? I need to find out.