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“Say it.”
Her tongue wets her lips. “I promise on my father’s life that I’ll stay, no matter what you say, as long as you promise to be faithful to me. For all of our days.”
Fuck. Sophie’s finally giving me the words she refused on our wedding day, and within minutes I’ll most likely make her a liar. I still wouldn’t kill Salvato if she breaks her promise because I know how much it would hurt her.
And while we’re talking truths… “And if you’re pregnant?”
She bites down hard on her bottom lip. “Once I know for sure, then I’ll decide.”
I didn’t think she had changed her mind, but I still wanted to ask. To hope.
The small chance she’s pregnant and will keep it, keep me, is the only reason I decide to tell her. It’s better to do it now before I fall even more in love with her and lose her later.
I don’t move off her, and I place my palm back over her mouth because I can’t bear to hear more insults from her mouth again.
Here goes fucking nothing.
“My father had a sick sense of humor,” I start. “He was always giving me ‘life lessons’ as he called them. Mostly, it was an excuse for him to be cruel. Just stupid shit when I was younger, but when I was sixteen, I was dating this girl, Erma Graves. She wasn’t my first, but she was the first girl I had hooked up with more than once and regularly. I liked her. We had fun in bed. Fucked like bunnies. Maybe I wrongly assumed she was my girlfriend. Either way, my father knew I cared for her, and he made sure I caught them together one night when she stayed over with me.”
Sophie’s blue eyes widen.
“Yes, my father had sex with my underaged girlfriend. I woke up when I heard them in the hall right outside my bedroom. That’s how fucking callous he was. And while the bastard was still inside of her, fucking her from behind against the wall, he told me he was just proving to me that she was a gold-digging slut like my mother, like all women who would ever want me.”
Those pretty blue eyes soften in pity, which I hate, but I don’t break her gaze. She needs to trust me, which means I have to tell her everything, even the worst of me. So, I’ll trust her with this even if it ruins everything.
“That was only the beginning of my more fucked-up ‘lessons’ from him,” I tell her. “Everyone in the whole city found out he had fucked my girlfriend in front of me because he bragged about it. She was legal, barely, so he wasn’t worried about charges. It was embarrassing as hell, but I got over it. And it was nothing compared to what he did to me when I turned eighteen. On my birthday, my father dropped me off in one of his, our, brothels in Lyon County, about a six-hour drive from Vegas. He told me I had to learn the family business from the inside out. For an entire month, I was to live there, to earn my keep by doing the same thing as all the employees. I wasn’t allowed to leave, the guards he left with me would ensure I didn’t.” I can already see the question in her eyes, so I answer it. “That’s right, I had to have sex for money, just like all the other prostitutes.”
I can’t say for certain, but based on the look on her face, my princess is disgusted and appalled. “I learned a lot, good and bad,” I admit. “The first week, I was only allowed to watch, though, with a cage on my cock. A cruel and unusual punishment for a teenage boy who jerked off at least three times a damn day. The second week I received one hell of a sex education from the girls. They treated me like a fucking king. I thought I was living the dream. Until the dream became a nightmare.
“The third week I had to fuck paying customers. There weren’t many. The women were all types and sizes. I liked variety, usually. But this was different. It was no longer my choice; it was theirs alone. I tried not to think about it too hard the first few times. I fucked like I was a god, not a paid whore. I left them happy and sated, barely able to move a muscle. Whenever I was alone again, I felt hollow, like I had lost a piece of myself every time. The sex was just a simple transaction for money. No emotions. No feelings. It was a release, but it was…empty.”
Rolling my neck around to crack it, I take a breather before continuing on. “I made myself keep going. Took pills to zone out and to keep getting hard. There was no way I was going to let my father win. He wanted me to last a month. I could fuck women I didn’t want for a month and survive, even if I hated the hands and mouths on me. By five days of that shit, I felt nothing but anger at the customers, contempt for using my body like they owned it for an hour. And they actually did own me for the time they paid for. The worst part was realizing that the women and men who worked at the brothel had to feel the exact same, even the ones I had been with. They, we, were nothing but body parts being used in exchange for a little cash.”
Shaking my head, I admit to Sophie, “I honestly don’t know why or how the long-term employees do it. Because the money is good, better than a nine-to-five job anywhere else, I guess. Whatever the reason, they do what’s required of them night after night. I did what I had to as well. I made it to the end of the third week, day twenty-three to be exact, when my father decided to give me another life lesson.
“An older man came into my room in the middle of the night. By then I had seen and done enough to know I wasn’t attracted to men. He made sure I could see the gun in his hip holster when he told me that he could leave me dead or alive, but either way, he was going to fuck me.”
All I had with me was the knife my mother gave me for my thirteenth birthday, the only gift she ever gave me. It was a week late when she did remember, and pretty fucked up—an illegal switchblade knife on top of that for a teenage boy. Anyway, my father wouldn’t let me have a gun while I was living in the brothel. He didn’t want me to be able to defend myself.
“At first, I just wanted to escape, not kill the intruder. But I knew I couldn’t get past him to get out the door. He was huge, taller than me, and had about a hundred pounds of muscle on my eighteen-year-old lanky form. I didn’t stand a chance against him. But I would kill him before I let him touch me. So, I struck first before he could pull his gun, slicing through his thigh with my knife. I must have hit an artery because it gushed like a fountain. When he hunched over to grab it, I slashed the knife across his throat.”
Tears now fill and overflow from Sophie’s eyes, likely she’s hurt and angry I fucked her without her knowing all this shit. Still, I swallow around the knot in my throat and keep going to the end, my palm making sure she can’t say a word.
“I had been in plenty of brawls, even dealt out some ass kickings at the direction of my father. But I had never wanted anyone dead like I did that night. While I tried to figure out what the fuck I was going to do with his body and the bloody mess before someone else came into my room, I took out the man’s wallet to find out who the hell he was. My father’s business card was right there in the front, as if he wanted me to find it, and know he had sent him.
“I left his body lying where it was. Grabbing the cash I had made, I snuck out, running from the guards, then had to beg a cab to drive me to Vegas looking like a walking horror show. It was early in the morning when I strolled into my father’s office, blood still staining my hands and pretty much every inch of me since I was only wearing a pair of shorts, all I had on when he woke me up. I told my old man I had killed the guy he sent, then swore to him that I would kill him too before I went back to that hellhole.
“The bastard didn’t bat an eye, just told me that it was all a lesson, of course. A test to see if I would take it like a pussy or fight because only a ruthless man could run his empire. He wouldn’t give it to a weak pussy who let people fuck him over or couldn’t defend himself.
“I was smaller, weaker than that asshole. He would’ve easily overpowered me if I hadn’t had my knife, and there wouldn’t have been a damn thing I could do about it.
“That’s when I became obsessive about lifting weights, working out constantly because I never wanted to be weaker than anyone else ever again. I swore to myself that I would strike first, ask questions later.
“My father may have looked smug that day, but I could also see the fear in his eyes. He was actually scared of me. He never expected me to come out of that place alive. He had created a monster and wasn’t sure if he could control it. At least he never did any fucked-up shit like that to me again, manipulating me like it was all a joke. And I eventually repaid the favor by letting his favorite hooker poison him slowly each night when she was with him. We told everyone he died of natural causes, a heart attack after a hard romp.
“Nobody even questioned his death, either because everyone in law enforcement hated him that much or just didn’t care.
“So now you know that every fucking thing you said about me is true. I am a disgusting dirty bastard. I’ve been used, my dick bought and paid for by the hour like all the whores who work for me. Sex has never been anything more than a transaction. The whores I used to fuck never wanted me. They wanted my money, my power, but never me. At least they were honest about it, unlike the women I dated who were after the exact same things.
