Her eyes reach mine with sadness and her mouth opens and then closes again. “What is it?” I ask, with patience and comfort.
“Please don’t touch me.” Her shoulders rise and her body trembles as she swallows thickly and moves her gaze back to the floor. She clasps her hands in front of her. My forehead creases with confusion, and then I realize the meaning of her words. I close my eyes and give myself a moment.
When I open them, her hands are covering her face as she stands there in the middle of my kitchen. She doesn’t belong here. It’s so fucking obvious to me that this is fucked up.
“Elle, sweetheart...” I walk over to her and wrap my arms around her so that she can lay her head against my chest. She’s stiff at first, but I rub up and down her back with comforting strokes. “I would never do that to you.” I kiss her hair and continue rubbing soothing circles on her back.
“I promise you. I won’t hurt you.”
Elle
“I’m not leaving you alone again, and I’ve already seen you naked, so just strip.” I stand with my back to Vince as I face the shower. I can’t believe he’s serious. I can’t believe any of this. He tried to get me to eat, but I’m so sick to my stomach. And now he wants to bathe me. I can’t wash myself, thank you very much.
“I can--” I start to say the words in the softest, most respectful tone I can manage, but he cuts me off.
“I’m not leaving you for one second.” I turn around slowly. His muscular arms are crossed, pulling his tee shirt tighter over his chest. It makes the muscles in his shoulders and arms bulge.
I look up at him through my thick lashes. “I promise--”
“I’m staying right here.” His words are absolute. “You’re going to be tired soon. You could pass out in the stall. I’m not leaving.”
I take in a deep breath and close my eyes, and pull my tank top over my head and unhook my bra, removing them both quickly before I hurriedly shove my shorts down. I step out of them and quickly walk underneath the hot cascade of water. I wince as the heat bites into the small scrapes on my body. They aren’t that bad. Tomorrow they’ll start to scab over and not look like much of anything. I open my mouth and let the water hit my face.
Tomorrow I won’t remember. I hope I don’t.
I feel like a coward for thinking that. But I really don’t want to remember this. I’ve given up. If I do remember, I’m going to pretend like hell that I don’t remember.
“Here.” I jump at the sound of Vince’s voice and nervously watch as he hands me bottles of cheap shampoo and conditioner. They’re small bottles like you’d expect to find in a hotel bathroom. I reach out and take them both with one hand. I have to close my eyes as our fingers touch. I feel so alone. That must be why I want him. It’s the only reason I can think of as to why I’m feeling this way.
I don’t know which emotion is stronger. The fear that he’s going to kill me, or the desire for him to fuck me. My conscience is raging war within me. One moment I want him to use me. Yet the next moment, I’m afraid he’s going to touch me. It’s as though my fantasies and nightmares have combined into a reality. And I’m not sure which is which anymore.
I open my eyes and I find him staring at me. He looks like a caged beast. His hands grip the edge of the stall and he leans in just slightly. “Do you need anything else?” he asks. I know exactly what he’s asking, and the answer is no. I quickly shake my head no and open the first bottle. The other I set down on a shelf. He pushes off the wall and steps backward, but I can feel his eyes on me.
I clean off as quickly as I can. I’ve already submitted. I can only hope tomorrow I’ll forget. Tomorrow I’ll wake up, and he’ll take me back home. Then all of this won’t even be a nightmare.
It simply won’t exist.
I close my eyes again and feel a fog set in. I welcome it.
I lean my back against the cold tile wall and vaguely hear Vince’s voice speaking. But it fades in the distance, and suddenly his face is in front of me with that handsome smirk. “I’m Vince.” I hear his confident, masculine voice. I see him lift his head away from my heat and stare up at my body as a wave of heat rolls through me. Another flash, a mix of memories. And then my body seems to go weightless.
Darkness sets in.
The last thing I hear before I pass out gives me a sense of peace and calm that I’m not sure I’ve ever felt. “I’ve got you, sweetheart.”
Vince
I park in front of my house and sit in the car to take a quick mental inventory of everything before I go in there. It took a good bit to get over here, but I still haven’t had enough time to process all this shit. Pops’ car is out front. I know he’s waiting for me inside. I sent him a text letting him know I had something I needed to talk to him about, and I know he’s gonna be sweating his balls off with worry. I grip the wheel with both hands, remembering how I left her at the safe house.
She’s only in an old Henley shirt of mine. Both wrists are tied to the bed frame. I think she’s comfortable. I hope she is. I hate leaving her like that, but I have to get my dog. I already picked up some food for breakfast, and some clothes for her to wear. But right now I have to talk to Pops. The Don. I tap the wheel a few times and finally get the fuck out of the car. I might as well get this over with.
He’s standing in the living room, and I see him as soon as I walk in. His eyes are on me as I toss the keys on the table and bend down to greet Rigs. My black lab is all muscle, with a long-ass tail that thumps onto walls as he wags it. He licks my face and I try to smile. But I can’t.
“You alright, son?” My father’s words wipe my pathetic attempt to smile right off my face. A thick feeling of sickness settles in my stomach.
I stand up and head to the living room. “I think everything’s going to be alright. I just have something to tell you.”
His facial expression doesn't change when he hears this. There’s a hint of worry in his eyes, but other than that, nothing.
“What’s going on, Vince?” His voice is hard, like it always is. Pops is old now, with grey in his hair, and wrinkles around his eyes. But he’s still got a hard edge. Anyone who's ever met him wouldn’t find it hard to believe he’s the boss, 'cause he looks like and acts like the boss. I’ve always looked up to him. But right now, I’m finding it hard to look him in the eyes.
“It’s basically taken care of, but I fucked up.” I take a seat on the sofa, and Rigs hops up next to me and tries to sit in my lap. He’s 6 months old or so now, not exactly the little puppy he was when I first got him. But, I really don’t mind it. He can still keep thinking he’s a tiny lapdog when he’s 80 pounds for all I care. I give Rigs a few pats, then look my father square in the eyes.
“I fucked up and because of me a broad walked in on Tommy and Anthony.” There, it’s out. My father’s expression stays flat.
“I see. That’s very disappointing.” His jaw is clenched tight and he keeps his eyes on me as he takes a seat to my left. “And it’s basically taken care of?” He cocks an eyebrow at me.