He takes a sip and licks his lips. “What’s the problem, then?” he asks.
“There’s one that I’d rather not do,” I tell him.
“Why’s that?” he asks, setting the glass down to face me with his shoulders squared. He’s in business mode. Right now he’s not a friend, and he's not my cousin. Right now he’s the boss.
“I want to make them an offer instead,” I explain.
His brow furrows as he replies. “I’m listening.”
“One’s a woman.” His eyes flash with sympathy. None of us like taking women out. It’s something that rarely happens, but when it does, we don’t like it. We make it quick and painless for them. Maybe it’s sexist, but I don’t give a fuck. I’ve tortured a lot of men for information. Never a woman though. That’s where I draw the line.
“They won’t let her walk.” His words are said with finality.
“I want to ask if they’d accept a substantial monetary offer from me to buy her.” I feel my blood rushing faster and hotter. No one knows about my perversions. I’m sure they can all guess. But I’ve never said a thing about my tastes, and they’ve never asked. They keep me on the edge of the social circle for the most part. I’m fine with that. It’s better that way.
“Buy her, and then what?” he asks with his eyes trained on the back of the bar.
“I want to keep her.” My voice is low, but steady.
“As a pet? As a slave?” Equal amounts of disgust and disbelief color his voice, and it almost makes me regret letting my dark desire come to light. Almost. But I want this. I want it more than anything.
“If that’s what you want to call it.” The determination in my voice rings out clearly. I’m sure my eyes look dark and absolute. I’m not ashamed of what I want. But I’m not willing to risk my position in the familia over it. Not yet, anyway. It’s been a week since I was given the hit. Each day my obsession with her has only grown. I cleared out a room for her already. In my head, she’s already mine. This is just a formality. But to Vince, this is a twisted sickness.
He looks me dead in the eyes as he begins, “After that shit Ava went through--”
I stop him right there and say, “This would be nothing like that.” My voice is louder than it should be, and the dark stare he gives me in return makes that clear. I settle in my seat and continue with a respectful tone. “I would never hurt her. Not like that. Not beyond any pain she didn’t want.”
“Ava said some days she would've rather been dead than been in that position.” My heart hurts for her. Ava’s a comare to a member of our familia. To Kane. He’s a good man. He saved her, and in a lot of ways, she saved him as well.
She went through a lot of shit. Her captors loved hurting her and humiliating her. She’s a strong woman to have survived all that. That’s not what I want though. The idea of doing that to a woman makes me angry. I’d never do that. Never.
“It’s not the same.” I reach for my beer and turn away from him slightly. He doesn’t understand. I didn’t expect him to anyway. “She’s already dead. She’s on their list.” I take a drink and then look back to him. “I’ll give her a choice.”
“Death, or your slave?” he asks with a humorless grunt. I know to him she'd be seen as a slave, as a pet. That’s fine. To me, she’d be mine. Nothing else but mine.
“Better than death with no escape,” I respond flatly.
He takes a sip of Jack, looks at me, and says, “It may not be to her. You want to hurt her and abuse her, rather than carrying out an order that would give her a quick death.”
“No. I don’t want that. It’s not like that.” He doesn’t fucking get it. I torture and kill people for a living. I can see how he thinks that’s what I’d do to her. But I wouldn’t. I don’t know how much I should explain. To be honest, I don’t fucking feel like explaining anything.
My blood heats with anger, but then I have a pang of worry and think, What if she doesn’t get it either? I brush my doubt aside. I’ll show her. I’ll have to teach her how perfect it would be to be mine. I’ve looked into her. I’ve been obsessed with learning everything about her. She’s smart. She’ll learn. She’ll catch on quick that I’ll be a good master to her. And she’s familiar with the concepts. She’s read enough to have an idea of what I want from her. “Think of it as hardcore BDSM,” I say. I look at him from the corner of my eye, but it’s not convincing him.
I want this too fucking badly to let this opportunity pass me by. And after thinking about all the ways she'd calm the beast in me, I don't know if I could actually go through with killing her.
Vince shakes his head and asks, “What are you looking to get from me, Anthony?”
“I want your permission to offer them a deal for her.” I need my proposal presented to the Cassano boss. He’s the one who ordered the hit. A number of other bosses come to us for hits, and we take care of their messes. For the right price, anyway. I don’t want to piss anyone off, and I want this to be a clean deal. Vince is quiet for a long time as he considers.
“You won’t hurt her?” he finally asks.
“I won’t. It’s about something else for me.” Control. Desire. Submission. I want it all from her, but not her pain.
He nods his head once and I take that as an agreement. I can’t help that an asymmetric smile grows on my face. Step one is done. Now to contact the other mob head. He’ll be easy to convince, I’m sure. He didn’t give a fuck about the soldiers she gave up. He cares about the deal he lost, and the money that went with it.
I down the rest of my beer and nod a goodbye to Vince. I don’t have anything else to say to him. I’d rather he forget this conversation ever happened.
As I turn to leave, eager to clear out the cell I've prepared for her and put the finishing touches in her room, he turns in his seat and grabs my arm to stop me.
“What are you going to do if she chooses death?” he asks as I turn to face him. The idea of her dying makes my heart stop in my chest.
“I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen.” Chills run down my body at the thought of those beautiful eyes staring into mine, begging me for death. That’s not what I want. I know she’ll want this when I show her how good it can be.
“It might,” he says, looking at me with sympathy in his eyes. I don’t want his sympathy.
She’s going to fucking love what I do to her. But I’ll have to break her first.
Catherine
3 weeks later
I tip the edge of the porcelain cup to my lips and close my eyes as the perfect temperature of tea spills into my mouth. My eyes close and the comfort of routine washes through me. But the feeling is only temporary. That’s when I register the change. Something feels off. I remember thinking that earlier as well. It’s too quiet. Crickets and other creatures of the night always provide soothing background noise for my evening tea. But tonight the noises are muted. It's as though something’s scared them away.