Page 118 of Storm and Sea

“Good boy,” he said before returning his attention to the pile of paperwork at his desk.

It was Alvise’s most recent summons to the valley—the one that forced Leo to sneak out of bed in the dead of night—that finally pushed him to his breaking point. The call came suddenly. Leo jumped out of bed when a furious knocking shook their house, waking everyone inside. One of Alvise’s men demanded he come to the estate. Leo only had time to pull on his boots and shout some incoherent excuse about the boat to his parents before rushing out.

Alvise was in a rage, hurling chairs across the room and shattering porcelain china against the walls. Glassware crashed to the floor, splintering into glittering shards as he yelled at anyone and anything in sight. Something went wrong with a shipment. Or was it the title for a new commercial shop in the square? Whatever it was had sent Alvise into a tailspin.

“You!” he shouted when Leo rounded the corner to the office, the guard hurrying away. “Get your worthless ass here NOW!”

Leo rushed forward and was met with a ferocious slap to his face. He barely caught himself with one arm, the unyielding marble floor jarring his bones.

“Did you think you could postpone this? That making me wait would delay our midnight rendezvous?”

“I—I didn’t.”

But it was pointless to try and defend himself with words. All he could do was endure the blows.

“Did I imagine how long it took you to arrive? Are you calling me an idiot?”

“No Signore. Never.”

Leo had the sense to stay on the floor.

“On your knees. Now.”

Trembles shook him as he assumed his position, mentally preparing for the endless night.

“Stay,” Alvise ordered as though he were a dog. “And if you so much as move an inch”—he seized Leo’s chin, jerking his head, his fingernails leaving imprints in his cheeks—“you’ll regret it.”

Alvise dropped his face and turned off the light, slamming the door closed and leaving Leo alone in the dark.

Leo hung his head, grateful for the black, empty space; it let him pretend the tears running down his face were drips leaking from the ceiling.

When Alvise returned, Leo couldn’t tell whether he had been alone for hours or minutes.

He heard a ‘click,’ and light detonated, like another slap to the face. His eyes squeezed shut, burning from the sudden glare. The solitary pitch-black void was gone, replaced by something more cruel—exposure. And watching his tormentor stride into the room, holding a jockey’s whip, struck a new kind of fear in Leo’s heart.

Alvise was freshly bathed, clean-cut, and drowned in musky cologne. If it weren’t for the man wearing the scent, Leo might have liked it.

The whip softly pressed against the underside of his chin, lifting his head and forcing Leo to meet icy eyes. The strap hadn’t struck him—yet Leo shivered as though it had. It tapped against his cheek as Alvise let out a disapproving ‘tut.’

“So close. So much wasted potential. You could be the prize of my collection with the right care, with the right training.”

The whip slid across the crest of his nose, where a fresh sunburn stung.

“Too much time in the sun brings out these blemishes and darkens that pretty skin. It’s a pity.”

Leather glided along his cheek, resting at the curve of his jaw where he sported a thin white scar.

“And this,” Alvise shook his head like someone had scratched his prized car. “A permanent blemish on what could have been the prize jewel of my collection.”

When the touch of leather disappeared, Leo hung his head, neck aching with strain. The moment his chin dipped, white-hot pain cut his arm, forcing him to reach out and catch himself.

“Did I say you could look down!? Hands behind your back!”

Leo complied, lifting his head but keeping his eyes tightly closed. He didn’t trust the tears not to fall again.

The barest touch of fingertips stroked his cheek with dishonest tenderness.

“Open your eyes, my pet. I want to see you.”