CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“What do you mean the roof and floor caved in? That’s not possible,” he sneered at the men, wringing their hands, squeezing the water from their caps. “You’re soaking my floor!”
“Sorry, sir,” said one of the men. “The roof just collapsed or it was struck by lightning, we’re not sure. We think the river filled the tunnels, forcing the drainage covers to pop off in the warehouse.”
“How much is ruined?” he asked glaring at them.
“A-all of it,” said the man.
“And the manufacturing site?”
“It’s stable, sir. No damage and our men are watching it carefully. The animals seem to be spooked by the storm, though. They’re all acting crazy right now.”
“Good,” he smirked. “It will make them more than ready when we run our first trial tomorrow.”
“I didn’t think the stadium was ready, sir?” said one of the men.
“It’s not. At least not to my satisfaction but it will work well enough to show certain guests my vision. Leave me. Make sure that nothing else goes wrong this evening or it will be your heads.”
“Yes, sir.”
He stared out the window, unable to see more than a few feet. The rains came so heavily he was able to convince himself that it would be good for the games tomorrow, creating a more difficult surface for the men and animals to fight on.
He’d been collecting the right animals, but also the right gladiators.
Men who owed him money. Not the elderly or infirmed, that wouldn’t be entertaining at all.
No, he collected the athletes and young entrepreneurs that believed they could outsmart the roulette wheel or bet on their own games and win.
What was enticing to see, were men that were fit, strong, fast, and scared for their lives. It would be doubtful they could elude a jaguar, tiger, or rhino, but it would be entertaining to see.
Spending his entire childhood inside due to respiratory issues, Marco Rodriguez wasn’t an ignorant man. He’d read nearly every book ever laid at his feet. The ones that really stuck out for him were those about ancient Rome and Greece, men fighting hand-to-hand, not relying on modern inventions.
He wanted to be like those men. He wanted to be the strongest man in the room. Although his own illnesses prevented that from happening, he became strong enough and smart enough to ensure that he was the most capable man in the room.
Tomorrow, those in his closest circle would see what he’d built and follow suit. Coliseums filled with gladiators and raging beasts would be alive in the world once again and he would get the glory for it all. He would be Ceasar. No. No, he would be the Augustus or Caligula.
Forget that, he thought striking the idea from his mind. It will be mine and I will be what the world wants to imitate. Everyone will want to be the great Marco.
He chuckled to himself and turned, realizing how late it had become. His men would do what he told them to do or they would die. Simple as that. When he reached the door to his bedroom, he heard footsteps coming upstairs.
“What now?” he muttered to himself.
“Sir? We’ve caught an intruder.”
“Bring him to me,” he frowned.
“Her, sir. It’s a her.”
Marco sat across from the woman, a towel now wrapped around her shoulders. Not because he cared whether she lived or died, but because he didn’t want his carpets to get wet.
“Why were you on my property?” he asked.
“I-I got lost,” she said shaking her head. “I was headed back to the village, something I’ve done a million times but I was sad and lost and the rains made it difficult.”
She kept her head lowered, hoping that he wouldn’t recognize her face. But he’d been in her shop, he’d seen her with her parents. He wasn’t a man that could be easily fooled.
“I know you,” he smirked. “The little bird making purses for tourists. How quaint. And your family. Yes, your family met a terribly unfortunate demise during the construction of my golden coliseum.”
Bianca said nothing, knowing that she was going to die. If only Cooper had listened to her and allowed her to stay. She was just trying to get a front row view to the destruction of the man that had taken everything from her. Her family, her entire world.
“Why were you on my land?” he asked.
“I told you, I got lost,” she said shaking her head. He backhanded her, his ring slicing a line across her cheek, blood dripping onto the carpet.
“You see what you’ve done!” he screamed. “You’re a whore who wanted my bed.”
“NO! No, I swear,” she cried. “I was lost. Please, just let me go and I’ll go home.”
“Go home? No, you’ll never go home,” he said leaning forward. He pulled her chin up to stare into his face and he looked down at her delicious breasts. Taking the sides of her top, he ripped it in half, exposing her simple white bra and the breasts oozing from the top.
“This will be more fun than I expected,” he said. Reaching into his pocket he opened a small packet and forced it into her mouth. She cried, kicking and begging, then suddenly an unwelcome euphoria stretched over her body.
He pressed the back of his head just below her throat, pushing hard against the flesh as he ran his hand between her breasts. His ring, the one with the silver crown sliced into the flesh, giving a single line of blood that matched her face.
“Shall we stay, sir?” asked the man. He’d almost forgotten they were there.
“No. No, I have this,” he smiled. “I may sleep in a bit in the morning. It depends on how good she really is.”
The men left, happy to be out of his sight and out of the range of his anger. The woman, was not so lucky.
Marco stripped to his boxers and then removed everything except the woman’s bra and underwear. He was going to enjoy this and enjoy her flesh. He tucked his thumbs into the boxers and grinned to himself.
“You’ve sinned enough, don’t you think?” said the deep voice from behind him. He turned so fast, he lost his footing, falling to the carpets. He opened his mouth to scream for guards but nothing came out. The figure before him was misty and unrecognizable, then became clear.
“You will not succeed,” smiled the man. “You will not succeed because good men will stop you. Men that will never allow people like you to live.”
He tried to move, tried to speak but could not. The figure moved toward the woman, seemingly releasing her bonds with a snap of his fingers. She fell forward into his arms and he picked her up, still hovering over Marco.
Try as he might, he could not get his legs or arms to cooperate and move. Nothing was working for him.
“I will enjoy watching you die and a man like me does not admit that often,” he said holding Bianca closely to his chest. He kissed the girl’s forehead and whispered to her.
“Let’s go home, child.”