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Sometimes, I felt like this was all a dream, a corporal nightmare I couldn’t wake up from. How could it be real? It was hard to believe it had already been a week.
The coroner on the family payroll told us my aunt was sexually assaulted, beaten, and then shot in the head twice post-mortem.
It wasn’t the bullets that killed her; it was the violence of the assault.
She died from internal bleeding and hemorrhaging in her brain. There were two separate traces of semen found inside her.
I kept asking myself what kind of vile human-being could do that to another. What could she possibly have done to deserve it?
The answer was rhetorical; no one should ever have to go through what she did. To die in such a slow, horrific way, feeling every ounce of inflicted pain and knowing no one was coming to save you.
Even worse, I knew she would have begged. My aunt would have pleaded for her life and in the end, was given no amount of mercy. It was a crushing feeling that sunk down in my chest and
split me wide open. Molly was one of the kindest people. She’d gladly taken me and my sister Eva into her home and the payment she received for it was the loss of her life.
Our father had sent us away for protection four months after our mother was killed. We’d just turned twelve. It was supposed to be temporary, but he was murdered just two years later.
Surely the incidents couldn’t have been related? Eleven years was a long time to hold a grudge, which is how I knew in my gut that my aunt was dead because of something Eva had done. And since she was nowhere to be found I was left with no other option than calling our Uncle Samuel.
He came immediately, taking care of everything and bringing me back to the most lucrative area near the island of Vice City, Remmington Hill Estates. Home sweet home.
I’d gotten off work and received a golden ticket straight to hell. Pursing my lips, I looked down and watched the colorful koi swimming around in their manmade pond. If only life were as simple as flitting around in circles with nothing to worry about but gubbing my fat cheeks in anticipation of my next meal.
“Elena.” A deep baritone voice spoke from directly behind me, sending chills straight down my spine.
Jolting into a standing position, I pivoted on my thin four-inch heels and then side-stepped so I could get a good look at the man. It took me less than a second to place his face.
He was taller than I initially thought. My heels boosted my five-three height to a good five-eight-ish, and he still easily towered above me. I drank in his black on black suit sans tie, golden luminescent skin, and high cheekbones.
He had a masculine jawline adorned with neatly trimmed stubble. His head full of envious, thick, jet-black hair was manipulated in a way that made it look sleek yet graceful. Blinking a glare away, I looked into a pair of strikingly bold whiskey-colored eyes surrounded by a hazel ring–the oddest set of hues I’d ever seen.
Handsome, beautiful, sexy–those words were too simplistic and dull to describe a man like him.
He was spellbindingly exotic.
The sun made the heat refract around his solid frame, giving him the appearance of a dark mirage.
He was a man who screamed money, and knew just how to spend it.
At my lingering silence he took the initiative to lead the conversation.
“I was on my way out and saw you standing out here all alone,” he explained in the same soft manner. I watched his mouth move as if that would give me the answer as to how it was possible for a voice to sound so damn smooth. His fluid Portuguese accent curved around every word.
Realizing what I was doing, I forced my eyes back to his, feeling as if he could see straight through my tinted lens.
If circumstances were different and I wasn’t afraid I’d lose control of myself I would have told him exactly what I was thinking and asked him out. He was by far the most attractive man I’d ever seen.
I had heavy aversions to rich, corrupted men in suits. For him, I could see myself making an exception.
It was a terrible idea. A man like him would be detrimental to my overall well-being. It was always the most beautiful things that were the most lethal.
I shrank back the slightest bit, crossing my arms over my chest. “You saw me standing here and decided to come offer your condolences, or…?”
He gave me a studious once over, taking in every inch of my person from head to toe.
His intrusive gaze landed back on my face.
It took a great deal of effort not to shift about uncomfortably from the look I saw in his eyes. He was looking at me like he knew exactly who I really was.
