I pull out the blindfold and she submits to me, turning around so I can tie it and lead her to the cell.
We’re quiet the entire way to the cell. The only sounds are the echoes of our footsteps and her uneven breathing. I pet her back with every step and at times she seems like she’s ready to lean into me, but she doesn’t. She’s rejected my touch, my comfort, my trust. I sigh heavily as I take off the sash and prepare to leave her, but then I see mascara running down her cheeks as she crumples onto the floor and scoots away from me.
I need to wait until she’s calm. She’ll learn to accept her punishments. When she's fully aware of what she'll receive in return, that knowledge will keep her from failing to obey me.
I lean down and stroke her cheek. “It’s alright, kitten.” She doesn’t respond, but she doesn’t move away from me either.
“I’ll have to go get your things without you. You need to tell me everything you want.” I don’t tell her that her things will always be there for her. I plan on keeping up with her mortgage and bills. Every contact that she gets will go through me, and to her, and then back to the sender. I don’t need any red flags to go to the WPP. Fuck that.
The reminder of life outside of these walls pisses me off.
None of that will be necessary if I have to kill her at the end of the month. I press my lips into a straight line. That’s not going to happen. I’ve only just started to have my time with her. Vince will give her to me. I bring in so much fucking money with these hits. He’ll give me this. I just need to deal with the Cassanos.
“I--” She hesitantly looks at me and then back down, grabbing onto her fingers nervously. “I have a pair of earrings in my armoire.” She speaks so quietly I can hardly hear her. “I need them. Please.” She looks up at me with a pleading expression. “They’re owls,” she says as her voice cracks and she breaks down at my feet. She bends over with her hands on the floor as a wretched sob heaves through her chest. She needs me right now. This is more than just being sorry about getting caught. It’s more than being ashamed that she broke the rules, or fearing that I’m going to hurt her.
I sit on the floor next to her and pull her shaking shoulders into my embrace.
“I’ll make sure to get them. Anything else?” I speak softly into her hair and breathe in her sweet scent. Her small body is so warm against me. She’s leaning into me like I’m her savior, regardless of the fact that I’m about to leave her in a cell with nothing.
After a few minutes of me gently petting her back and her hair, she pulls away slightly. She still doesn’t look me in the eyes. “I can’t remember.” She wipes her eyes and sighs. “Nothing I can think of.”
I’m going all the way to her house for one pair of earrings. It’s nearly two hours away. Obviously they mean something to her though. I give her a curt nod that she doesn’t see, because she’s not looking at me.
I take her chin in my hand and force her eyes on me. “You’ll be here until tomorrow night. That’s your punishment.”
She noticeably swallows, but nods her head and manages to push out, “Yes, Anthony.” Good girl. She’s taken this well at least.
I have to leave her. I don’t want to, but I do. “I have to go, kitten,” I tell her gently. I hate that I’m leaving her in here, but she knew the consequences. It’s important for her training that I stick to my word.
She leans against my leg as I pet her hair. I know she doesn’t want me to leave, but I have to.
I pat her head to let her know I’m going, and she responds by looking up at me with sad brown eyes, glossed over with tears.
“I promise I won’t do it again,” she says, but her plea is weak. She’s resigned to her fate.
“You earned your punishment, kitten. I’ll be back to give you dinner,” I say.
With that I turn and leave her. She barely grips my leg, but releases me without me having to scold her.
It fucking hurts my chest as I press the keys to leave.
I wish she hadn’t done that shit.
But if I was her, I would have done it, too.
Anthony
Rigs, Vince’s giant ass lab, is lying pathetically on the floor begging. He’s a good-looking dog. I look to Vince and say, “See, told you the kids would ruin him. He’s a biscuit-begging mutt now.”
Vince shakes his head and my brother laughs, taking another drink of his beer. All the women are in the living room with the kids. Usually Rigs goes where the kids go, but we’re still in the dining room, and so is the food. Smart dog.
“He was so fucking good before the kids. You could drop a steak a foot from his face and he wouldn’t move,” Vince jokes, and we all have a laugh even though he’s shaking his head.
“God, the kids. Cockblocking and dog ruining,” Tommy says with his hands over his eyes. He’s worn the fuck out with the little ones. But he still says it with a smile.
“Gotta love ‘em though,” Vince answers.
“I need another beer,” Tommy says with a touch of humor.
“Grab me one, too?” I ask him. He gives me a nod and heads out. Vince gets up from his seat to pour more Jack in his glass.
As soon as no one’s looking, I give the dog the last meatball from my plate. He swallows it down so fucking fast there’s no way he even tasted it. I chuckle at him and watch him lift his head up higher so he can see what’s left up here. Greedy ass dog.
Vince takes the head seat again and leans back with his glass at his lips. When he looks at me this time, there’s tension surrounding us. I know what it’s about, too. I’ve been waiting for it.
“We gotta talk, Anthony,” he says.
Tommy makes his way back with the beers and passes me one. I don’t want him in here for this though. I don’t want him to know about Catherine. She’s my secret. She’s mine. I wish even Vince didn’t know. It kills me that he does. Even worse is that I know he doesn’t understand.
“Hey, bro, could you give us a minute?” I ask Tommy as I pop the cap off my beer. He looks between me and Vince with a touch of confusion, but nods his head with a bit of a frown.
“Everything good?” he asks. He’s always worrying about me. He always has.
Vince and I both nod as I answer, “Yeah, I just need a minute.”
“Suit yourselves,” he says, grabbing a bun off the table. He whistles at Rigs and the dog bounds off after him, wagging his tail.
“You need to take care of her,” Vince says the second Tommy’s out of earshot.
“See the thing is, I am taking care of her, Vince. We had a deal.” I put my beer down and lock eyes with him. “I paid, and she’s mine.”
“They seem to think otherwise.” He says the words as though them backing out is acceptable.
“That’s their fault. They made an assumption. They were wrong.”
“They give us almost thirty percent of the income from the hits, Anthony. Your income. You really wanna piss them off?” he asks.
“I couldn’t give two fucks about them, to be honest.” I say it with a hint of menace in my voice. I take another drink, trying to calm myself down.