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“A half hour tops.”
“Go tell Graham she’ll be back soon and she’ll need dry things. Whatever samples he brought with him. Warn Nicky that she’ll need checking for hypothermia when we get back. Go with him, Barb.”
He heads off toward the house at a lick, Barb going with him. I run for the beach. Sometimes I hate being right. But she did something I didn’t predict. She went straightaway, faster than I guessed. That means she hasn’t got long before the boat starts to sink.
I have an excuse to punish her properly. She was warned not to run. Warned by Sergio that she’d be in trouble if she took the boat.
I will use the crop on her bare backside when I get her back. The pain should stick with her for a long time, make her see that this is happening. She can’t change it. She is not getting out of this until I’m done with her.
I get to the beach and splash through the water around the edge of the cove to where my boat’s hiding. This one is in top condition. It’s also a lot faster than hers. She’s got enough fuel to get just offshore. If she’s good, she’ll try and swim back when it starts to sink. If not, I hope she finds the lifejacket before it goes under. She drowns and I lose everything. My plan will be ruined before it’s even begun.
As I race out over the choppy inshore waves, I feel an odd sense of guilt. That’s something else new. First desire and now guilt.
Why do I feel guilty?
She deserves this. Blood is blood. She’s a member of the Caruso Famiglia, part of the family that killed my mother and my baby brother, broke my father’s heart, gave me these burns that will never heal.
That’s not the worst part. I could maybe forgive if I’d had justice. But Paolo didn’t confess, didn’t go to prison for his crime. No, he covered it up, swept it under the rug with the help of his family, statements given that contradicted mine. According to the sworn testimony, he was stone cold sober, driving under the limit. We pulled straight out in front of them. He couldn’t stop in time. He tried to save us but the flames were too much.
He lied, again, and again, and again. While I grieved, he kept lying. Got away with it.
I’ve wanted revenge ever since. Had to obey my father though, wait for his permission to kill Paolo, permission that never came.
I know his reasoning. I kill Paolo and the Commission get involved, arbitrate over it, probably put out a hit on me to restore the balance. My father didn’t want another dead family member on his hand. I thought it was cowardice, but it was genius.
He was biding his time, waiting for the right moment.
Now I get my revenge without the Commission needing to get involved. As far as they’re concerned, I’m marrying Anna purely so the Caruso debt is repaid. It doesn’t go beyond that.
Only I will know the truth. I will break Anna. Paolo gets to watch the fallout as his only daughter hurtles into self destruction, all because of me.
Justice will be served. I keep the house. I keep the empire. I even get the Caruso empire when Paolo dies. After that, who gives a shit about Anna? I get what I need and that’s all that matters.
But if that’s all true, why do I feel guilt?
I guess it’s because she might drown. It must be that, combined with the fact the lies are about to start. I’m going to pretend to be nice to her, make her fall for me, make her need me, make her rely on me.
The priest will be here tomorrow. We’ll be married by tomorrow night. I’ll get the paperwork sent to the lawyers, make sure I get control of all our assets.
After that? I tell Paolo I married his daughter, that she’s mine now. Make it clear to him that she’s the payment for his debt. She belongs to me. Maybe I won’t discard her. Maybe I’ll keep her. Long term punishment. For the rest of our lives, she’ll be shackled to me, ruined by me, broken by me.
And it will start with her being whipped with the crop, a spreader bar holding her arms apart so she can do nothing to protect herself from the blows. She’ll learn that pain and misbehavior go hand in hands. All because she had to try to run.
This is about revenge. That’s all.
Yet still the guilt sits there, like a piece of grit in the corner of my eye, irritating and distracting me from what I’m supposed to be doing.
I lean over the side of the boat, let the spray hit me full in the face. The icy cold wakes me up, makes me forget about the guilt at last.
Now all I’m thinking about is her punishment, how it should be. Pulling down those panties, bringing down the crop onto her bare ass. I wonder what noise she’ll make, whether she’ll beg me to stop. I’ll find out soon enough.
All I have to do is get to her before she drowns.
I grab the binoculars. There’s her boat, sitting low in the surf. She’s bailing out water, but she hasn’t got long and she’s not found the life preserver. If I don’t get to her fast, it’s going to be too late to do anything about it.
I accelerate over the waves, racing toward her. She’s learning her lesson the hard way. This is what happens when you ignore my warnings. Once we get back, I’ll show her how she’ll learn future lessons, draped over my lap with her ass in the air. Or perhaps made to wear the spreader bar for a few hours. Or whatever else I can think of to humiliate her.
Soon she’ll only want to please me. Not long after that, she’ll not be able to do anything but please me. That’s when I’ll break her.
