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“You don’t have a choice,” Luca said, speaking for the first time in a while. “Our estate is your new and permanent home.”
Bastian tightened his grip on my thigh, lifting my leg so it was on top of his. “We own you now. You’re ours to do with as we please.”
I snorted. “Keep telling yourself that, Bash. I hope you enjoy fucking corpses, because I won’t enjoy a single second of you on top of me. In fact, why don’t we go into the bedroom and get this over with, so I can go home?”
Damian pushed up the sleeves of his jacket and rested his tattooed forearms on the table, his eyes burning through me like lasers. I thought he would say something smart, but he surprised me by waiting for Bastian to comment.
“You make my cock so fucking hard, Cherry.”
With our mouths inches apart, I said, “Let’s get something straight. You don’t scare me. I don’t care if I have to fuck all of you. Threaten me all you want.”
Marcello ignored our conversation. He leaned back on the bench across from us, his shoes off and long legs stretched out as he played a game on his cell phone.
“I hate you. All of you. You’re fucking deviants.”
Damian rolled his shoulders and laughed. He enjoyed being a piece of shit and didn’t feel an ounce of remorse for what they were about to do to me. Bastian wasn’t as cold and closed off as Damian. At least I thought he wasn’t like him.
Luca tipped the glass to his lips and drank the rest of his scotch. “We all have to be something. Might as well be someone everyone fears.”
“I don’t fear any of you. I despise you. There’s a difference.”
“You came with us too easily,” Luca said in a cold, deep tone. “Like Bash said, you didn’t even fight us.” He shook his head, amused. “You could have at least screamed or begged. Then you could have reconciled with the fact that you handed over your virgin pussy to the men you pretend to hate.” His gorgeous mouth curled up into a crooked grin. “Now the real question remains. Which of us will claim you first?”
We couldn’t fly directly to Devil’s Creek, so we boarded a helicopter in Hartford. I was thankful we had to wear a headset. Only the pilot spoke when we left the airport and then again, right before we landed on the helipad at the Salvatore estate.
The sprawling estate had sixty-five-degree views of the bay and looked like an old castle. They were the princes of Devil’s Creek and probably the world. With all of their money and power, they did anything they wanted.
Even got away with murder.
Bastian lifted me from the helicopter and helped me down to the blacktop. Electricity skated up my arms from his touch and spread throughout my body. I hated how my body responded to him. And I hated he knew how much he affected me.
He smirked as I rubbed my hands down my arms. Then he slid his arm behind my back to lead me toward the house.
There was a large veranda that stretched across the back of the mansion. Arlo Salvatore waited for us between the open patio doors with his hands stuffed into his pockets.
He was attractive, even for a man his age, and had clearly passed down his good looks to his sons. Luca and Marcello were around the same height as their dad, but thicker in the arms and chests. The only difference was their eyes. Arlo’s were as black as coal, while the boys had blue eyes that reminded me of the bay at night. A trait they inherited from their deceased mother.
“Welcome back to Devil’s Creek, Alexandrea.”
I pressed my lips together and nodded. “Mr. Salvatore.”
Arlo glanced over my shoulder at his sons. “Show our guest to her room and then join me in my office. We have business to discuss.”
“Let’s go.” Marcello groaned as he passed me. “Your room is on the second floor.”
Arlo patted his son’s shoulder.
I followed Marcello down the long tiled hallway. Luca disappeared in the opposite direction with his father, while the adopted Salvatores stayed on my tail.
Marcello led me to the Tuscan style entryway on the east side of the house. A monstrous crystal chandelier hung overhead the ornate wooden staircase that had the same Salvatore serpent carved into the banister.
Without breaking stride, Marcello carried my suitcases upstairs. He didn’t speak a single word, which only caused my heart to pound as adrenaline flooded my veins.
On the second floor, Marcello rolled my suitcases down a beautiful Brazilian walnut floor that was polished to perfection. A dozen doors, most of which were closed, spanned the length of the corridor. There were four floors, not including the basement and attic.
Marcello stepped through the open door at the end of the hallway. Bracing myself for my new life, I sucked in a few deep breaths. The room had high ceilings, an ensuite bathroom, and a four-poster bed with tons of pillows. Straight ahead, the French doors opened onto a large balcony.
Marcello left my suitcases in front of the closet door. As he walked toward me, he swiped the fallen strands of hair off his forehead. “Get comfortable, princess. You’re not leaving your tower.”
