Page 14 of Enforced

I blinked at him. Sean had never cleaned up in his life. He took and took and never gave. Everyone else had to do the latter, especially me. I’d been his sex slave and maid all rolled into one.

But I had no doubt Valentino would show his true colors sooner rather than later. Men like him didn’t do menial tasks. Their hands got bloody, not sudsy.

I nodded, trying to read his impassive face…and failing. “If you’re sure.”

His smile was a little crooked, his teeth white behind his beard. I only wished his eyes would reflect even a speck of warmth. “I’m capable of cleaning up after myself. Go to sleep Tilly. I’ll wake you later.”

I shivered at his words as I stood and tramped to his bedroom. That it was shivers of need and not revulsion was something I’d rather not dwell on. I was a walking, talking, overthinking disaster when it came to this man.

I stood at his bed and looked down at its hugeness. But not even the oversized mattress was big enough to get me away from Valentino’s muscled bulk. He’d trap me against him and I’d be lost.

I released a shuddery breath. I had no choice but to leave on his bathrobe as I climbed into bed. There was no way in hell I was going to make it easy for him to take control of my body. I knew I’d never get to sleep, not knowing what I was about to endure.

I almost laughed. I doubted very much I’d hate been taken by him and had every reason to imagine I’d enjoy it.

I tossed and turned, my body burning for him while he was clanking dishes and cutlery in the kitchen as he loaded them into the dishwasher. I lay still, feigning sleep when he walked into the bedroom minutes later and stepped into the bathroom.

My spine tingled as I sensed his presence. It was like being held in a force-field. The moment he left it was as if I crashed, my body becoming numb and defenseless, my heart juddering in an unsteady rhythm.

A rush of water hit the shower tiles and he hummed a foreign tune, no doubt some Italian song, as he washed himself. A masculine soap infiltrated my nostrils, something vanilla and citrus, bergamot perhaps.

I snuffled, hating that I was attracted to everything about him. I should detest him as much as I did Sean. One killer was as bad as another, after all. So why did I yearn for him? Perhaps not getting the emotional gratification I’d needed from William had increased my longing?

I tossed and turned some more, and though my eyes grew heavy my body grew more and more aroused. For fuck’s sake! I couldn’t seriously want a man who’d snuff out my last breath, could I?

It was my last lucid thought before sleep abruptly claimed me.

Chapter Eight

Valentino

I stepped from the bathroom and into my bedroom in nothing but my birthday suit. Son of a bitch. Chantilly was asleep! I shook my head, my grimace almost becoming a grin. Had I expected her to be waiting naked for me and begging me to keep her alive if she freely gave me her body?

I sighed heavily. A part of me had expected that, anticipated it even. I’d bet nearly any other woman I might have brought here in her stead would have done everything in their power to distract me with pleasure, and supposedly bring me to my knees.

I fisted my hands. Love had never been on my agenda, in fact, I despised the idea. Love twisted the insides of people until they were no longer whole. Love made people weak and vulnerable. Love made people lose a part of their identity by conforming to someone else’s ideal.

So why did my heart squeeze a little as I stared at the woman I needed to delete from this world? She was so innocent while she slept, all her defenses down and her past eroded so that only purity remained.

A lump filled my throat. How had she gotten with the Irish don, Sean? Had she been looking for a better, more luxurious life? How soon had she realized her better life was actually the reverse? She wouldn’t have run away if she’d enjoyed the mobster lifestyle.

I climbed into bed, ignoring my unforgiving arousal as I pulled Chantilly snugly against me. I slowly exhaled. She was a perfect fit in my arms, her back against my front. That I absorbed her warmth until it was as if we were both as one was the last thought I had before a blanket of darkness swept over me.

I woke to shouting and screaming, to the fighting I knew would go on for hours, probably ending when my stepfather knocked my mom out…or worse. Their warfare had been escalating lately, their violence disturbing on a whole new level.

That I was only twelve meant I was no help. My stepdad was as likely to hit me as he would my mom. I shivered, wishing I was bigger, an adult. But my mother’s cries meant I couldn’t stay out of it this time. I had to do something…anything.

I swung my spindly legs out from my bedcovers, then crept to the door and opened it carefully. I was scared out of my mind. When my stepfather drank he couldn’t be controlled, he was a beast without remorse.

Walking to the end of the hallway, I looked around the edge of the wall. Shit. It was worse than I thought. My stepdad had a shotgun in one hand and a bottle of almost empty whiskey in the other. My mother’s face was already scraped and bruised, one of her eyes swollen half-shut and her dark, curly hair a tangled mess.

She’d always taken pride in her appearance, but my stepdad had all too quickly eroded away her personal care.

“You’ll do as you’re bloody told, bitch.” He dropped the bottle with a clunk onto the floor, then lifted the rifle to aim it at her as she leaned back onto the kitchen counter, as though trying to rebalance herself after his beating. “I should shoot you right now.”

I stepped into the room. “Leave her alone.”

He turned around, his face flushed. “What are you doing out of bed, boy?”

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