I’m shaking like a leaf as I set foot in the diner. What little I ate at dinner is threatening to make a reappearance when I spot Diego waiting in a corner booth for me. His back is to the window, and he’s wearing a cap with a hoodie over it so John Angelo can’t see him. His eyes never leave my face as I walk toward him on wobbly legs.
Wordlessly, I slide into the seat across from him. He licks his lips as his gaze rakes over me, and it’s like being dumped in a bucket of ice-cold water. I shove my hands between my knees to try to stop the trembling. “You’ve been a very naughty girl, Sloane.”
“It isn’t my fault the phone is out of action.” I hate how much my voice quakes, and I tell myself to get my shit together. Dragging up my alter persona, I try to remember my acting skills. “I got caught in the crossfire, and my cell broke when Cristian slammed me to the ground. Maybe next time, try not shooting at me,” I snap.
A flicker of something glints in his eye, but it’s gone before I can decipher it. Tension is thick in the air. “That wasn’t a sanctioned hit,” he coolly replies after a few beats, poking his teeth with a toothpick as he studies me.
“What?” I lean forward a little, setting one hand on the table. “What do you mean?”
“Where did you go today?” he asks, ignoring my question.
“What?”
Grabbing my hand, he pulls it across the table. He ducks his head a little, angling his body so he’s not seen from outside as he glares at me. “Don’t play dumb. We had to detour crossing the bridge so they wouldn’t make us, and then we lost you. Where did you go?”
“I don’t know. He made me wear the blindfold again.”
Diego threads his fingers through mine and digs his nails into my palm. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not.” I yank my hand back. “My bodyguard is watching, and you’re going to ruin everything. I’m with Cristian now. The plan is working.”
“It doesn’t sound like he trusts you much if he’s blindfolding you everywhere you go.”
“And what, you wouldn’t do the same with newcomers? Come on. You know who he is. He’s not just going to trust me until I’ve earned it. Which means I can’t meet you again like this. It’ll make him suspicious. I told him I was coming here to break things off with you.”
Diego drums his fingers on the table. “Is that so?”
“I told him previously we were casually dating. Figured I’d need a cover story in case anyone saw you.”
“Maybe I should call the boss and tell him to slit your whore mother’s throat right now.”
I lean forward, pinning him with wide, panicked eyes. “No. Please no. Diego. I swear I’m telling the truth.” I gulp nervously. “I’ll have intel for Pablo in two weeks. I swear. Please don’t hurt my mother.”
His stabbing stare feels like tiny pinpricks slashing me everywhere. “Fine.”
I almost slump over the table in relief.
“Here’s how this is going down.” He grabs my head, pressing my brow to his. His rancid breath turns my stomach, and I hate him being all up in my face. “You’re going to get up, go outside, and pull your bodyguard away from the door. Act visibly upset.”
His grip tightens on the back of my head, but I barely feel the pinch. I’m stunned he agreed. At least it’s bought me a reprieve.
“Say you need to go to the bathroom. I’ll slip out while you occupy him. Alvaro is waiting for you with your new phone and a little gift.”
All the blood leaches from my face at his smirking tone, and nausea swims up my throat. My entire body starts trembling again. “I can’t go back to Cristian upset. He’ll be suspicious. Please tell Alvaro not to hurt me,” I plead.
“You know the rules, slut. You disobey, you and your precious mama get punished.” Those were not the initial rules, but they seem to twist them whenever it suits them, and I can’t do a damn fucking thing about it. His smirk kicks up a notch. “Tell that Italian prick I was cruel and my words upset you. He’ll buy that.” Releasing my face, he nudges my foot under the table. “Go. Pablo doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
I walk outside on autopilot, and I don’t even have to act upset when I pull John Angelo away from the door and play my part. I’m so tempted to tell him the truth, to beg him to shoot Diego in the back as he slinks away into the night, and to rescue me from the ordeal waiting in the bathroom. But I can’t. I can’t. Mom needs me. She didn’t mean what she said. She wants me to save her, and it’s my duty to do it.
So, I go to the bathroom, listen to Pablo reciting all manner of threats as Alvaro strips me to the waist and paws at me while assaulting my mouth with his vile cock. Pablo watches, and I’m grateful there’s no sign of my mother, if it means I’m taking the punishment this time for both of us. The assholes laugh as I vomit the second Alvaro is finished, throwing up his cum all over the floor. Alvaro crawls out the window, leaving me holding myself and rocking on the dirty bathroom floor.
It’s a miracle I can pull myself together after being violated, but I manage to do it before my bodyguard comes looking. Hiding the new phone inside my coat, I fix my clothes and gargle with tap water. I stare at my reflection in the mirror in a kind of numb, shocked state. I look as dead as I feel on the inside. My legs feel heavy as I force them to move, exiting the bathroom and heading outside.
John Angelo sends repeated concerned looks my way as we walk back to the penthouse. I know I should do better, but I don’t have it in me to pretend right now. Feeling eyes glued to me the whole way home, I try my best to hold it all in. I won’t give those sick fucks the satisfaction of knowing how much they’ve broken me this time.
Cristian is waiting in the hallway when I enter the penthouse, and it’s clear John Angelo messaged him. His troubled eyes drift over my pale face. “What happened?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I say in a voice that sounds dead to my own ears.
“Did he hurt you?” His voice is lethally quiet. “I want his name.”
“He was cruel with his words, and he upset me, but it’s done. I won’t be seeing him again, and I just want to put it behind me.”
“I don’t like the sound of this guy. Let me handle him.”
Oh, how I wish he could. I stare straight ahead, not looking at him, as I speak. “No. He’s in the past, where I want him to stay. Please drop it. I don’t want to talk about him ever again.”
Cristian moves to hug me, but I shake my head, hold up my palms, and take a step back. “Don’t. I got sick. I think I might be coming down with a stomach bug. I felt ill last night at the wedding too.” It’s a pathetic excuse, but it’s all I’ve got.
There’s an awkward pregnant pause for a few beats. “Go to bed. I’ll make you some peppermint tea. It should settle your stomach.”
I don’t have the energy to argue, so I merely nod and shuffle off. I’m shaking all over as I strip out of my clothes, shoving them in the laundry basket. Turning the shower on to the highest setting, I get in and try to wash the memory of unwanted touches from my body. But no matter how hard I scrub at my skin, I still feel dirty, broken, and damaged on the inside.
This feels like an insurmountable task, one I’m failing at every turn. I can’t see any scenario where this ends well for anyone. Tears don’t fall this time, even though I’m torn into shreds on the inside. I think my tear ducts are broken too.
When the water turns cool and I notice my red, wrinkled skin, I finally get out and wrap myself in one of the big, fluffy towels.
Cristian is sitting on the bed when I enter my bedroom. He looks up, concern puckering his brow as his gaze roams over my red-raw skin. “I need privacy to get dressed,” I say in the same nonemotional voice. I can only imagine what he must be thinking. I wish I could do better, but I’m all out of juice. I just want to turn off the lights, crawl under the covers, and never resurface.
“Of course.” He stands. “I left a bottle of water and some peppermint tea by your bed. Let me know if you need anything else.”
“Thank you.”
He approaches me cautiously, hesitating for a beat before he presses a lingering kiss to the top of my wet hair. “Try to get some sleep.”
I nod, though I doubt there is much sleep in my future.
“You’re scaring me a little.” With great tenderness, he angles my face so we’re staring into one another’s eyes. “Come get me if you need anything during the night.” He hugs me softly and gently, like I’m made of glass. “I mean it, Sloane. I don’t care if I’m asleep. Wake me.”
“Okay.”
“Are you sure nothing else happened?” he asks again. I’m not surprised he doesn’t believe me.
“I’m sure,” I lie.
He seems reluctant to leave, but thankfully, he does, sending one last concerned look my way before he closes the door.
I dress in leggings, fluffy socks, and a long-sleeve top because all my sleepwear is too flimsy, and I’m chilled to the bone. I drink my tea before turning off my bedside lamp and curling into a ball under the covers. Circling my arms around my middle, I tuck the covers around me like a human burrito, but nothing stops the persistent shivering that originates from deep in my fractured soul. I can’t form logical thoughts. My mind is a dark, dark place, and my heart is covered in the heaviest invisible scars. I just want it all to stop. The pain, fear, guilt, and worry are tearing me apart, and I fear there will be nothing left of Mom or me at the end.
Cristian
“I need to find him,” I say to John Angelo, talking in hushed tones in case Sloane reappears and overhears. “He did something to her. She’s traumatized, and it’s got to be his fault.”
“I don’t know what else to tell you, boss. I didn’t get a good look at him, and he slipped out while I was talking to Sloane. We have nothing to go on unless she gives you a name.”
I swirl the Scotch in my glass and grip the crystal tight. “I know she’s not telling me the truth. Something happened tonight.”
John Angelo tries to hide it, but he looks at me like I’m losing it. Maybe I am, but it’s the only explanation. Unless he threatened her with something. I guess that’s a possibility. “I watched them the whole time. He held her hand for a bit and then put his forehead to hers, but he didn’t hurt her. It’s like she said. He cut her with his words. Emotional pain can be just as damaging as physical pain, boss.”
“I can’t do nothing.” I knock back my drink. “She’s hurting, and I feel helpless.”
“Like she said, he’s out of her life now. Best thing you can do is show up for her. Take care of her and show her you are nothing like that asshole. She’s young, and he was obviously toxic for her. A few days with you, and he’ll be a distant memory.”
“I hope you’re right.”
Sloane looks like she hasn’t slept at all when she surfaces early the next morning in Elio’s bedroom. Her face is pale, her eyes are bloodshot, and she seems unsteady on her feet. “Go back to bed,” I say. “I’ve got this.”
“Are you sick, Sloane?” Elio’s face scrunches in concern.
“It’s just a stomach bug.”
“Okay.” He grabs his bag, trying to lift it up by the straps, but it’s way too heavy. “I’m going on vacation with Grandma and Grandpa.”
“I know. Have the best time. I’ll miss you.” Sloane kneels and Elio strangle-hugs her.
“Careful, bud.”
“Want me to rub your sore tummy?” Elio asks her with wide-eyed innocence.
Tears fill Sloane’s eyes as she brushes hair off his brow. “You are the sweetest, kindest little boy.”
“It’s okay, Sloane.” He gently pats her stomach. “Daddy’ll get you medicine to make you better. Won’t you, Daddy?”
“I will do my best to help Sloane feel better. I promise.”
“See.” Elio beams at her, planting his hands on his hips. “You’ll be all better when I get home.”
Sloane climbs to her feet. “Of course, I will. Have an amazing time, my little prince. I can’t wait to hear all about it.”
