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Pavone’s orgasm takes me by surprise, and I have to be very quick to clench and cry out like I’m experiencing it with him, perfectly in sync with him and his body. He grunts as he spills into me, his breath hot on my face. He pats my cheek condescendingly. “You’ll be a good little slut for me soon. Just need to train that cunt of yours.”
When he pulls out, his semen dribbles out of me, staining Vanessa’s sheets. I wince, but there’s nothing I can do about it.
Pavone offers me a hand. “All right, get up. We’re all ready to go back to bed.”
I get out of bed with his help, squeezing my thighs together. I’m shaky, uncertain, but I need guarantees before I can sleep. I need aplan, or at least the beginnings of one. “What should I do, if one of your men… If something like today happens again? I don’t want to disappoint you, but surely you don’t want them to touch me.”
“They won’t, after they hear about what happened to Stevie,” Pavone says dismissively, pulling up his pants.
“But what if they do?” I persist. I can’t risk any of his misogynistic assholes in the ranks deciding to feel me up and blaming me for it.
“Then they get their noses cut off by Angelo, how’s that?” Pavone says snidely.
Vanessa whimpers again. Part of me wishes I could teach her how to bury her reactions, but I’m sure her open fear is better than any calm defiance would be.
“I’d rather—” I shake my head. “I don’t want to see any of that again. Please.”
Pavone rolls his eyes. “Why are women all so afraid of a little blood?” He grips my shoulder and shakes me a little bit, like that’s going to stop me from being afraid. “You think I can’t keep my men in line? You think my word isn’t enough to keep you safe?”
I know that men are happy to ignore the rules if they think they can get their dicks wet. My father had been quick to punish men who’d fucked me, and I still was able to find willing partners.
“I’m sorry!” I cry. “I just don’t want to be alone with anybody who might touch me! I don’t want you to think I was going back on my word!”
“Jesus Christ. Fine, you want protection? You can have Angelo, how’s that? He’s a fag, so you’ve got nothing he wants,” Pavone says with far too much glee.
This is exactly what I wanted. As terrifying as Angelo is, I know he’s going to keep me safe from everybody else in the house. And he’s got a vested interest in keeping me happy: he’s in just as precarious a situation as I am.
Pavone expects me to hate this decision though, so I whimper and shake my head. “No! I didn’t mean—I don’t want—”
“Yeah, yeah, suck it up. You either get the fag or a rotating set of men who may or may not want to feel you up. Take your pick.”
I swallow hard, like I’m really having to think about it. I’m aware of Vanessa’s eyes on me, and I just pray she keeps her mouth shut while I get these fine details sorted out. “I… Angelo,” I whisper, looking down at the floor.
I can see Pavone grin out of the corner of my eye. “There. Now thank me, babe, for being so generous. I’m going above and beyond for you, just because you’re my beautiful wife-to-be.”
I’d rather kiss a viper, but I lean in and brush my lips against his in a soft, chaste kiss. “Thank you,” I whisper.
He pats my ass. “Damien, leave the girl alone,” he directs, and Rossi finally withdraws the scissors from my sister’s throat and releases her. “And make sure the men know she’s off limits. Guess we’ll just have to hope they listen, eh? Since Angelo will be busy protecting you.”
Shit. I should’ve accounted for that. I don’t trust Pavone’s men to keep their hands to themselves, not around me, and not around Vanessa, but it’s too late to undo the careful work I’d just done. I’m just going to have to hope like crazy that they leave her alone.
We’ll see just how far Pavone’s word goes when it comes to a pretty girl, and I just have to hope he has as much sway as he thinks he does.
11
ANGELO
Istare at Lucia.
She stares right back.
We’ve been doing this for the past five minutes, each one of us waiting for the other to say something first. I’m not going to do her any favors though, not after that stunt she pulled yesterday.
Not after she somehow got Pavone to assign me as her bodyguard. I’d tried to protest, but Pavone had it in his head that “only a fag” could protect his future bride from any harm.
Which is why I’m now standing in the dining room while she works on those handwritten invitations, looking up at me, then going back to writing. If she wants me to help with that torturous task, she can think again.
I do wonder why she’s alone, though. For the whole week I’ve been working for Pavone, the two sisters had been clinging to each other, but suddenly Pavone declared Vanessa was under house arrest and not allowed to leave her room. It’s odd. But it’s also not my problem.
