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He nods urgently and we walk quickly through the stone hall of the cellar, rushing up the stairs as quietly as possible. Just as we reach the top before the archway, I hold a finger to my lips and listen for any possible threat.
Once all is considered silent, I walk with his hand in mind, my heart racing. We're about to round the corner of the hall to the library when shouts and running footsteps approach us immediately. The candle goes out from my gasp and I drop it to the floor as I see Sergio approaching with a gun drawn and pointed at us, three men in suits trailing behind him.
My heart stops in my chest and I prepare myself for the worst. This is more than likely my death, but at least I would die saving somebody. I close my eyes as I hear the gunshot ring out, waiting for pain to take over.
8
Esmeralda
A few seconds go by,and when I realize I am not shot, my eyes open slowly. There's blood splattered on my dark shirt, and I feel something warm pooling at my feet, seeping through the lace of my expensive shoes. I look down and nearly faint.
The man I saved lay lifeless before me, blood flowing like a river from his head and onto my feet. His eyes are open and lifeless. I can't move or make a sound because I am in shock. As Sergio and his men rush to the body and begin lifting him, I feel a set of strong hands grip my shoulders.
"Go. To. Your. Room. Now."
Dante's voice is dark and if I wasn't staring at a freshly dead body at my feet, I would feel scared by it. My feet are frozen in place and I begin to shake.
"I said now, Esmeralda!" He bellows and it's enough to make me jump and run. My feet are slipping in my blood-soaked shoes and I ditch them in the library before booking out the doors and towards my room.
Once I'm upstairs and in my room, I rush to the bathroom and stand before the mirror.
Blood is splattered across my chest and has soaked through my shirt. I look down at my feet and see that they are red and stained. I rush to the toilet and wait for the vomit to come, but it doesn't. After several minutes of hovering over the toilet, I strip out of my clothes and step into the shower, scrubbing every inch of my body that I possibly can.
The water runs red and I stand still in it, watching it snake past my feet and down the drain. I'm watching the blood of a man who was killed before me drip off my skin right now. I'm rinsing the life of another from my own skin. I stand there in silence. I stand there until the water runs clear and cold, until my body is filled with chills from both the shower and the constant replay of death.
I shut the water off and walk to the closet, my head swimming in both fear and shock, my hands trembling slightly. I slip on a black, silk nightgown and make my way towards the bed, gasping when I see Dante standing in front of the fireplace.
He turns his head and looks at me, his gaze deadly and angry. I stand in place silently and he walks closer to me, power crackling from his body like electricity.
"Please explain to me why you trespassed into my quarters and decided to release my fugitive?"
Chills run up my spine and I swallow down the saliva that's stopped in my throat.
"Cat got your tongue, pequeña? You mean for once your loud mouth finally has nothing to say?"
I want to lash out, the anger in my body overpowering my state of shock. My lips stay sealed, fearful of saying the wrong thing. After all, I could end up like the man downstairs at any given moment.
He grows angrier and I see his jaw clenching.
"Respóndeme, Esmeralda!"Answer me!
"He-he said he was innocent. He said he had a wife. He was tortured and beaten, Dante!" I cry and he stalks closer to me, causing me to back up against a wall.
"That man was anything but innocent. That man trafficked and killed several women that worked in my clubs. If anything, I've saved his wife from a life of shame and disgust."
I feel stupid and small from his declaration. I want to shrink away until I'm nothing but a molecule that's invisible to the naked eye. He stops walking and turns back around to stare at the fireplace, as if the mere sight of me causes him disgust.
"Once again, you've disobeyed my orders. Once again, you've crossed my fucking path and made an even bigger mess for me to clean."
I'm always the problem. Me, the hostage, is the issue in his life right now. He's bringing me back to a place of fear that I remember from my childhood. The many nights of my mom's boyfriends or random men that would abuse and berate me. I want to scream and cry and punch him for this, for making me remember those nights that I've desperately tried to forget.
"And what are you gonna do about it, huh? Rape me? Hit me like all of my mother's low-life excuses for men? Tie me up and torture me like that man downstairs? You gonna do all that, Dante?"
His eyes flash with fury before he stalks me. Two strides is all it takes before his huge frame is towering over me, his pure masculine strength taking over all my senses, intoxicating me more than it ever could intimidate me. He was a drug, this man. And I realized I wanted to get high off him. High off his power and his presence. All fucking day long. No matter the amount of fear and disgust this man makes me feel, my attraction to his presence always rushes to the surface.
I squeal as soon as his hand wraps around my throat, his rough fingers going to my lips to silence anymore sounds. My eyes were probably as round as saucers, but I could care less. The fear and anticipation he roused in me now were enough to knock me over. Dead. Done. No more. Emmie May would die by his hand tonight.
He brings his nose down to my neck and drags it up the part of my throat that was still exposed, the parts of my flesh where his didn't cover.
