Keeping his bride

Selina McCall

I STUMBLE MY way back towards the ballroom. My hands are still shaking from my encounter with the man in the hallway. He was the very definition of tall, dark and handsome, wearing an expensive, black tailored suit. But the way he looked at me, with those steel gray eyes behind his gold mask, unnerved me. It was almost as if he were trying to figure me out somehow; like a riddle he wanted to solve. And I hated the way his eyes seemed to stare through me to my very soul, like he could see all of my fears and flaws that I so desperately try to keep hidden and locked away deep within me.

I grab a flute of champagne from the nearest table as I absently rub at my chin, remembering the way he touched me, so gently, like I’m made of glass. I’ve never had a man touch me like that before. A violent shiver runs through me just then as I glance over my shoulder, expecting to see him following me. But he’s not there.

A sense of relief surges through my veins as I down the expensive champagne in one long swallow before setting

the empty glass back down. I nee to avoid any other encounters with that man…and everyone else at this party, for that matter. God forbid if I would do something wrong or cause a scene. I would probably never see the light of day again. I shudder at the thought of that. The fact that I’m even here right now, in public and away from the man who has held me captive for the past decade is almost unimaginable.

I don’t even want to be at this stupid party, but it’s not as if I have a choice in the matter. No, Constantine Carbone does whatever he wants. And tonight, he decided to rent me out to his son like a hooker.

The thought of running has crossed my mind a time or two, but I know I wouldn’t get very far. Constantine always finds me. And the last time I tried to run…let’s just say it scarred me for the rest of my life. I won’t ever try to get away again. I will remain his perfect little pet just like he wants. I won’t be responsible for anyone else getting hurt because of me.

I drink three more glasses of champagne before I steel my spine and make my way towards my date for the night. I’m going to need all the liquid courage I can get. Gino Carbone is cruel and demanding, just like his father. A cookie cutter cut-out of his old man – minus the good looks and charm.

When Constantine first bought me at the tender age of thirteen, Gino was only a few years older than me. I made the mistake of thinking that he was kind, that he would help me. I learned my first lesson a few weeks later when he and his father took turns beating and raping me.Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

I never trusted that bastard again. And I loathe the fact that I have to be here with him tonight while he parades me around like a real date and not just the woman he occasionally assaults and uses as his own personal punching bag.

Once I’m at his side again, I reach for another glass of champagne from a waiter passing by, but Gino clucks his teeth in disapproval. “I want you sober,” he says before pulling me close and nipping at my earlobe like we’re two lovers who can’t keep their hands off each other. I pull away from him in disgust, and he grabs my arm in a bruising grip. His dark eyes glare at me as he mutters angrily, “Do we need to go over your manners again?” “No,” I say with a vehement shake of my head.

“No, what?” he demands.

“No, sir.” It takes everything in me at that moment not to roll my eyes. Constantine tried to break me over the years, and maybe he succeeded, but the drugs he supplies me with make me feel like I have superpowers, like I can conquer the world. I think deep down he likes the defiant streak in me. It makes it that much harder to break me, something he loves doing to all of his women. And I’ve seen him break so many that they will forever haunt my nightmares.

“I like my whores compliant. Don’t make me beat your defiance out of you again,” Gino warns under his breath.

I wince at his words and at the memory of him whipping me with his belt just a few days ago. I still have the bruises all over my body and the cuts from when the buckle caught my skin. He was high on blow and his girlfriend had just cheated on him. Reason enough to take his anger out on me I suppose.

I fidget in my high heels. The concoction of benzos I took hours ago are beginning to wear off. Constantine promised me that his son would give me some whenever I needed, and that was the only way I agreed to this little outing. Constantine knows I’m addicted. I can’t go without my precious medicine. And I have done some foul, unforgivable things in order to catch the next high. The pills are the only thing that keep me going most days. Otherwise I would probably sink down into a dark voi , never to be found again.

“Stop fidgeting,” Gino snaps, bringing me out of my racing thoughts.

“I’m sorry. I need my pills. Your father said -.” “Fuck what my father said,” he says, cutting me off.

If Constantine could hear those words, his son would be in major trouble. Nobody defies the great almighty Constantine Carbone, not even his own son.

My skin feels like it’s on fire, and I have the urge to scratch until I open my flesh and begin to bleed. I start at my wrist, but Gino snags my hand and holds it sternly between us.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he growls angrily.

“I need my pills,” I beg him.

“Let’s go upstairs. You’re pissing me off.” He grabs my arm roughly, pulling me along with him.

I nod in agreement. Yes, let’s go somewhere private where I can take my medicine. Constantine promised me Gino would give me my pills before he tried anything.

We start for the staircase when I hear someone call out, “Carbone!”

I wince, thinking that Gino will turn around and begin talking, delaying me my high. But luckily, he just waves off the person, and we continue up the stairs to the second floor.

I can barely walk in a straight line. Sweat beads on my brow, and I feel like I’m going to pass out or be sick. I’ve never gone this long without my medicine before. The fear of going through withdrawal has me trying to hurry along, but Gino keeps a firm grip on me, guiding me at his own pace.

My mask feels like it’s suffocating me, so I rip it off my face and drop it in the hallway, not caring if I ever see the damn thing again.

We walk down hallway after hallway until he finds a suitable room. He opens the door and shoves me inside. I stumble, banging my elbow against the wall. “Ouch,” I whisper before I shake off the dull ache and continue on inside.

The bedroom is opulent, decorated in deep browns and reds with a massive bed in the middle situated under a huge crystal chandelier. Antique furniture fills the rest of the room – a mirrored dresser, a large armoire, and two nightstands with lamps, which illuminate when Gino hits a switch on the wall.

Any other time I would take time to appreciate the decor, but there’s one thing and only one thing on my mind right now. I turn to Gino, who sticks a fat finger in the knot of his tie, pulling it loose. Before I can even open my mouth, he tells me, “Take off your dress.”

Shaking my head, I back away from him to the nearest wall, pushing my back against the cool, floral wallpaper. “Please. My pills. I need my pills first,” I plead with him.

“I’m not giving you shit until you fuck me,” he says, making my stomach drop.

“Your father promised! He promised that you would give them to me!” I practically scream, growing more hysterical by every passing second. I can’t fuck him unless I’m high. I can’t.

Suddenly, Gino crosses the room in a few big strides, swallowing up the space between us quickly. He grabs a fistful of my hair and slams me into the side of an antique armoire. My bones rattle upon the impact, and I catch myself on the corner, wheezing from where it poked me hard right in the stomach.

“Take off your dress and get on the fucking bed,” he orders.

Straightening my spine, I give him a nod, symbolizing that I’m going to behave and do what he tells me to do. He releases my hair, and I walk towar s the bed, putting a little distance between us.

I can hear his heavy footfalls as he comes closer. And then I feel him at my backside, his hands on my waist. I turn slowly in his arms and stare up at him. He’s tall, just like his father, but about a hundred pounds heavier.

I take a step back from him and pretend that I’m reaching for the zipper of my dress.

“That’s a good little bitch,” Gino murmurs.

If I’ve learned anything over the years, it’s that being good only gets you in more trouble. Being good only gets you hurt in the end.

Raising my leg, I kick forward as hard as I can, aiming for his balls. But my foot only comes into contact with his fat stomach. And I realize in that moment the grave mistake I have made.

Gino’s face grows red with anger as he latches onto my foot and pulls my leg, making me cry out in surprise as I lose my footing. I slip and fall to the floor, hitting the back of my head on the footboard of the bed on the way down. The room spins around me as I suddenly feel him pinning me on the floor, his heavy weight on top of my chest. He’s crushing me to the point that it feels like my ribs are breaking and I can’t even pull in a single breath.

“You fucking bitch!” he spits out before punching me in the side of the head.

Pain blooms along my temple, jarring my skull and making my teeth chatter. I try to bring my hands up to protect my face, but my arms are dead at my side. I can’t even feel my fingertips.

The lights in the room flicker, and I’m starting to think that this is the end. That I’m finally dying and escaping this hell on earth. But then that’s when I hear Gino ask, “Who the hell are you?”

Out of the corner of my eye, a dark figure enters the room, a dark gold mask covering most of his face. It’s the man from the hallway, I vaguely think to myself.

His piercing gray eyes meet mine for only a split second before he turns his attention to my attacker. I see the blade before Gino even does. Suddenly, like in a real-life horror movie, the man grabs Gino from behind and slices through his fat neck. Blood instantly sprays out, soaking through my dress and spattering my face as Gino gurgles a horrific sound.

I’m instantly taken back to that tragic day… The blood.

The blood coating my skin.

I’m wearing their blood.

The next thing I hear is a hard thud as Gino slumps over, his head resting on the edge of the footboard above me, his wide, vacant stare locked on my face as his gaping mouth spills forth a river of blood that trickles down to my forehead and cheek.

I whip my head back and forth, trying to somehow stop it from touching me. I can’t bear the horrible coppery smell or the fact that I’m covered in his blood. It’s too much like what happened before, and my anxiety begins to crawl its way to my throat as I struggle to breathe.

My mouth opens on a scream, but no sound comes out. I’m still being crushed by the dead bastard, and my lungs are on fire, desperate for air. I start to gasp, my mouth gaping open repeatedly like a fish out of water.

The room begins to violently spin around me, and I close my eyes as I begin to fall into a black abyss. My entire body feels weightless, like I’m floating, and I revel in the feeling. I’m in a beautiful, silent void of absolute darkness. There is no fear, no anxiety, no pain here.

Sweet, merciful death is finally coming to claim me…and I welcome him with open arms.