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The second man snickers.
“We don’t need your help. We get paid handsomely for the work that we do. Mr. Espocito is a fair employer, better than Mr. Carini. He doesn’t ask us to risk our lives as Mr. Carini does. We deal with wine shipments and security. Occasionally, he asks more of us. Things you might call evil and wrong. But it’s not wrong. We’ve learned that bitches like you always deserve what is coming to you.”
My eyes widen at the smug expression on his face. How could I think he had a heart? No man in Italy has a soul. No one can save me. All these men want is money. They will do anything their masters command of them for it.
They carry me to the bed and toss me down, not caring that I scream when they do. A sharpness shoots from my leg up to my spine as the soft bed hits it, but it feels like a sharp knife instead.
My head is light, and the room spins around, making it impossible for me to fight, as they start holding down my arms and legs. I feel the familiar cold of handcuffs going around my wrists, as my arms are jerked above my head and attached to something. I don’t even bother testing the strength of the metal cuffs. If they had used floss to tie my arms up, I still wouldn’t be able to break through. I’m that weak.
Metal goes on my left leg, and my right leg is spread wide, but I don’t feel the cold I’m expecting.
I stare down at the man looking at my broken leg. He’s hesitating to put the last cuff on. He knows it’s useless, but his boss commanded it, so after a few seconds of hesitation, he puts it on and attaches my leg to the bed.
I grimace as my broken leg is pulled tight like every other one of my extremities.
The men leave without a word. I close my eyes as I hear the door slam shut.
Sleep. I’ve never wanted to sleep so much in my life. My body needs rest to attempt to start healing. Maybe if I fall asleep, I’ll sleep through the whole thing and have no memory of the rape.
Rape.
The thought of the word causes my stomach to flip in my body. I’m sick. This can’t be happening.
I try to take a deep breath, but I can’t. My body won’t relax. It’s on heightened alert. Blood races through my body as my heart pumps way too fast. Nerves fire off, alerting every inch of my body to stay awake and ready. Alerting me that something dangerous is about to happen.
The door opens, and Armas appears in the doorway.
I narrow my eyes at him, as he walks to the edge of the bed. I will not let him see my fear or pain. I may not have a chance of escaping, but I’m going to leave with as much of me intact as possible.
His hand runs over my wound, and I do everything I can to not flinch, but my leg twitches involuntarily trying to escape the discomfort.
He smirks. “It hurts, doesn’t it?”
My lips tighten. I won’t answer him.
He shakes his head, as his hand trails up my injured leg over my sex and across my stomach to my breast. He squeezes it tightly, attempting to invoke another reaction out of me.
I’m stoic. I don’t move. I act like he is shaking my hand, nothing more.
He exhales as his eyes roll back in his head like my reaction is turning him on. “I’m going to enjoy this far too much.”
My lips frown before I have a chance to stop them.
His thumb glides up over my lips, and I try to bite him, but he pulls his fingers away before I have the opportunity to.
“I can’t believe Matteo hasn’t touched y
ou yet. It seems like such a waste.”
“He has touched me,” I say, hoping if I can convince him Matteo has already had a turn with me, he will lose interest. I doubt it will work, since I already told him he hasn’t touched me, but I have to try.
Armas is right, though, about me being lucky so far. I don’t fully understand why Matteo hasn’t raped me or beat me yet.
His hands move back down to my shirt and rip it in two, revealing my bare breasts. His eyes burn into my plump breasts, before he bends down and takes my nipple into his mouth.
I cry out, and my back tries to sink into the bed, away from his sharp teeth, as he nibbles harshly on my nipple.
“No, he hasn’t touched you. No man has been with you for weeks. If Matteo had touched you, you would already be broken. You’re the opposite of lost. You are more alive than any woman I’ve ever had the pleasure of tying up in my bed.
