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Now, Dante is saying the same things. I’m worthless. Nothing but a whore.
My mind believes him. I’m too broken to remember any of the reasons I am worthy. All I can think about is my faults. My body doesn’t work. I’m so bruised and beat up no one would consider me beautiful anymore. I don’t have a college degree. I don’t have a career. I don’t even own a house or car anymore. I live off my inheritance. Inheritance I gained from a father who never loved me and brothers willing to do anything to keep
me safe.
I should be defeated, but every time I hear the word ‘worthless,’ it sparks something in my heart. Something that keeps me alive. Makes me fight.
I think Dante knows what the word does to me, which is why he keeps using it.
Dante had his entire team killed in front of me. It was a warning. The same fate awaits me if I don’t do as I’m told. But it didn’t scare me.
It just made the fire in my heart grow with the need of my revenge. I don’t know what the men did to deserve death, but I know if they willingly worked for Dante, they deserved their fate.
It didn’t make me sad. It made me happy to see their karma repaid.
And now, I have a chance at freedom and my vengeance.
Dante is in the driver’s seat of his white Maserati while I sit in the passenger seat with my head against the window, soaking up every drop of sunlight hitting the window. I won’t move my head no matter how uncomfortable the crick in my neck grows, or how much my forehead burns from the light. Dante thinks I’m resting my head against the window because I’m too weak to move my head, but I’m drawing as much strength as I can from the sun’s warmth, preparing for the coming battle.
This is the first time I’ve been out of the house since Dante stole me. He doesn’t have any guards with us. They are all dead.
He didn’t use any ropes to tie my arms or legs.
He carried me to the car because I can’t walk.
We are headed to his office so he can enjoy me, while Conti and his team prepare a new security system and team of guards.
We will be alone. I may not be able to walk, but I’ll fly when the opportunity arises for me to escape.
I sigh. Large trees block some of my sunlight as we drive through a wooded portion of the road, but it doesn’t stomp my hope. The trees are picturesque Italian. The vines climbing up their trunks remind me of my homeland. I was never meant to be an American like my brothers have accepted. I’m meant to be an Italian. Whatever faces me, at least it will be here, in the motherland.
My eyes begin to drift shut, but I force them to stay wide. I don’t want to miss a second of the beautiful countryside or the quaint cottages we’ll pass on the side of the road. I try to memorize the path we are taking. All the houses and villages we pass become ingrained in my mind. If I get a chance to escape, I need to be able to find my way to help.
Dante pulls the car to a stop in front of a row of office buildings, and my heart sinks. Surely, there are going to be people everywhere. I won’t have a chance to escape. I could make a run for it now, but I have no shot against Dante, not in my state.
He would punish me worse if I ran. And I don’t think I can handle any more broken bones.
Dante gets out, without a word, and then walks to my side of the car, opening the door and lifting me gently into his arms.
I let my body remain limp. I will not use an ounce of energy that isn’t necessary. But I don’t know why he is acting so cautiously with me. Are we being watched?
I look around for a sign of a video camera I can make a plea for help to, but I find none.
No, Dante wouldn’t work at a place where there are video cameras he doesn’t own.
He pulls a key out of his pocket and unlocks the glass doors.
Why does he need to unlock a door, if this is an office building full of people?
“Don’t worry, whore. It’s Saturday. The building is closed on Saturdays. We are all alone. No one will hear your screams.”
I bite my lip as if he’s going to make me scream right now. He’s not. He’s gentle so that when he beats me, it will make it feel so much worse.
My arms and legs dangle as he pushes the door open, and we step inside the building. The smell of paper and air fresheners overwhelms my nose. It’s such a stark difference to the smell of blood and musky men.
This place is clean and sterile. Dante doesn’t bother to flick on the lights as he carries me down the hallway. He doesn’t look at me or speak as he stomps. He’s a man on a mission. I don’t have to look into his eyes to know the carnage that happened only minutes ago turned him on. Dante loves the blood, the pain, the wrath. It’s who he is. He enjoys killing.
He wants to take that all out on me. All of his lust and aggression.
