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My heart started beating erratically inside my chest because I recognized that tone. Truth be told, I’d rather Ashton beat me than what he was about to do next. The beatings were standard, which only someone else in my position could appreciate. It wasn’t often that Ashton deviated from his physical assaults, and whenever he did do something new, it was because we weren’t in the familiar comfort of our home. Though no one would ever suspect it, there’d been countless times when Ashton had put his hands on me in public, feigning a stomach bug or migraine to quickly get me home. The man had no shame, and absolutely no conscience.
So, despite the horror of it all, the beatings were predictable, and so I’d learn how to choreograph the abuse for minimal damage, and my mind was always prepared for what was to come. However, Ashton’s lovemaking was another animal altogether. That was the one thing that was incredibly unpredictable, and it was also a different kind of terror.
There were times when Ashton was tender, sweet, and didn’t stop until I was undoubtedly pleasured. Then there were times when he’d just bend me over the nearest surface to get off after a long day, my pleasure irrelevant. Of course, there were the times after the beatings when he gave new meaning to the word rape, but even those times were expected, and I was usually in too much pain to register any additional new agony, even as crazy as that sounded.
Surprisingly, it was when Ashton was in a lust-craze that it was the worst. While I had enjoyed a heavy hand during my years with Aurelio, Ashton’s definition of rough sex was something else entirely. His degradation was the hateful kind, not the role-playing kind that was consensual between two adults. He didn’t spit in my mouth before taking my lips in a breath-stealing kiss. No. Ashton liked to spit on my face, then rub it in before slapping me hard enough to split my lip. He didn’t pull my hair while grunting hot words in my ear. No. He pulled my hair until strands fell out, then used the grip to suffocate me into the pillows. He didn’t wrap his hand around my throat to keep me in place as he made me take him. No. He choked me until the blood vessels in my eyes nearly popped, only letting me breathe when he felt like I deserved it. He also didn’t call me names to enhance the experience and help fulfill my fantasies. No. He called me names because that’s what he really thought of me. In public, I was a tool to help his political career. In private, I was three holes that he had the right to use as he saw fit. The only positive thing that I could say about it all was that he had only shared me once before he had realized that he was too jealous a person to keep doing such a thing. Of course, he’d beaten me black and blue for it; blaming me for his miscalculation, but that’d been the last time that he had slutted me out, and thank God.
“Ashton, the chicken-”
“I don’t care about the damn chicken, Savina,” he said as his hands went for the hem of my skirt. I hadn’t bothered changing when I’d gotten home from work, and I should have. “I haven’t seen you in two days, sweetheart.”
I did my best to steady my breathing and keep the tears at bay. While I wanted to believe that he was going to make love to me, I knew better. If Ashton was faithful-which I doubted-then two days without sex was two days too long for a man with his sexual appetites. Luckily, we still used condoms, so if he was cheating on me, I could rest a little easier knowing that he was using protection with me, even if he wasn’t using it with anyone else.
My hands grabbed onto his shoulders as he lifted me, placing me on the island. With his hand on my chest, he pushed me onto my back, then stepped in between my legs. I stared at the ceiling as I felt his hands spread my thighs open, and while most women would appreciate the consideration, I loathed everything that Ashton did to me, even the simplest smile.
“I don’t know how long I’ll be able to control myself,” he said as he ripped my panties to the side, something that he loved doing. The tearing sound did something for him that I didn’t understand, but I knew enough to know that I was going to be a disgusting mess on the floor by the time that Ashton was done with me. As soon as he had spread my legs, the tone in his voice had changed, and I knew my enemy well.
My fingers curled around the edge of the granite as I heard Ashton removing his clothing, my body laying splayed out before him, the obscenity of my panties hanging off to the side turning him on. I could hear his breathing picking up, and that was a sure sign of what was to come.
Like the many times before this one, I closed my eyes, doing my best to pretend that it was Aurelio touching me, kissing me, taking me. Though I had absolutely no right to that small escape, I couldn’t help myself. I didn’t want it to be Ashton’s face in between my thighs right now. I didn’t want it to be Ashton inside me later. Like a Greek tragedy, it was unfair that Ashton was also well-equipped. With the way that he behaved, you’d think that he was overcompensating for having a small dick, but that wasn’t the case. Though not large, he was adequate, so there was no escaping the feel of him inside me.
As soon as I felt the swipe of Ashton’s tongue, my eyes tightened, praying for numbness. I knew that my body was going to betray me, and no matter how many counselors said that it was normal, it didn’t feel normal. It felt worse than when he abused and degraded me. I felt less than human when Ashton forced me to cum for him, and that was a stain that was harder to scrub off than all the others.
I almost laughed, knowing that the stains were never going to come out.
Chapter 11
Aurelio~
As much as I would be happy to never see Savina Valentine ever again, I also wasn’t a coward. After my meeting with Nero, I’d thought about what he’d said, and his theory hadn’t been as far-fetched as I would have liked for it to be. Even though there was no love lost between us, I couldn’t see her okay with her parents getting caught in a crossfire between us and the Olivers. Yeah, her parents had crucified her for her abandonment, but they were still her parents and the only blood family that Savina had in the world.
So, after giving Nero my word that I’d look into it, I had stopped by Morocco’s, then had instructed him to do a full background on Savina, from the moment that she had walked out of my life to the moment when she had re-entered it. I’d also had him do a complete background check on all the Olivers. Though we’d already had the basics-considering what we did-Stewart Oliver was making his way down the path to become a senator, so we should probably update our file on him anyway.
From a business standpoint, Maryland had eight congressional districts, and we owned three of those seats. The Irish owned two of their own, and the Russians owned the other two, leaving Congressman Oliver the sold moral minority. However, up until now, he’d been Declan’s headache, not ours, and so that was why our file on him had been minimal. We had enough of our own problems without inheriting more from our rivals. Of course, at this point, I wasn’t even sure if Declan O’Brien was still a rival. Though none of us were stupid enough to trust the man, shit was weird.
After having agreed to speak with Savina, I had called Declan to inform him that I’d be visiting his territory soon. When he had asked me why, I’d been honest. I’d told him that Ashton Oliver’s girlfriend had approached me to talk about something, and that Nero wanted to know the details. When he hadn’t been convinced, I’d had to explain that Savina’s father was one of our Capos, and that was when the man had finally relented.
So, even though Morocco was still gathering as much information as he could on Savina and her relationship with the Olivers, he’d been able to get me the standard stuff on her, and that included her place of work. While it wasn’t ideal to ambush her with witnesses, there was no fucking way that I’d risk being photographed with her anywhere else. While she wasn’t a traditional celebrity, she was close enough. The Olivers were in the news enough that people were interested in Savina’s comings and goings. The lovely couple even had a social media following, and the only reason I knew that was because whenever they went viral, that shit would show up on my newsfeeds, especially since Ashton Oliver had political ties.
Nonetheless, a random stranger walking into a real estate office wasn’t anything out of the norm. I’d also had Morocco hack into her office computer to give me a copy of her schedule, so that I could time my arrival. I didn’t want to be in O’Brien territory longer than I had to, so it wouldn’t do well to have to hunt the woman down.
Walking into Coleman Realty, I smoothed my suit jacket, and thanks to Morocco’s incredible hacking skills, I knew the layout of the property, knowing exactly where Savina’s office was. The building was a combination of cubicles and private offices, and I was lucky enough that Savina occupied one of those private offices. Granted, Morocco had studied the layout for safety precautions, but the extra information on Savina had helped.
Without sparing anyone else a glance, I made my way down the narrow hallway until I came upon a door with Savina’s name on it. Now, while I didn’t know the policy on privacy, that wasn’t going to stop me from shutting the door once I made my way inside.
As soon as I entered the room, Savina raised her head from the papers that she’d been looking at, and her blue eyes widened with shock as soon as she noticed who her visitor was. Without asking for permission, I shut the door behind me, then took a seat in one of the chairs positioned in front of her desk. I was a big man, so the furniture wasn’t ideal for my size, but it was better than the communal cubicles that decorated most of the office.
“Savina,” I greeted, inclining my head a bit, fighting back the acidic taste of her name on my tongue after all these years.
Her pen slid out of her fingers, and that’s when I noticed the expensive diamond on her left hand. A person could be deaf, blind, and dumb, and still know that it wasn’t just an elegant piece of jewelry. Ashton Oliver had asked Savina to marry him, and she’d said yes. I could only conclude that this was a fairly new development since no formal announcements had been made yet. Fuck if the entire world didn’t like making social media announcements for crap that no one gave a shit about.
Seriously? Who gave a fuck if a complete stranger was pregnant or getting married?
At any rate, with that ring ripping that old wound open to rub more salt into it, I could see how her visit might have had something to do with Congressman Oliver after all. Once the engagement announcement was made, those stupid cunts that like to type loudly on the internet were going to nitpick everything that there was to know about Savina, including her ties to the Sartori Crime Family. In all actuality, I was surprised that someone hadn’t already uncovered that small truth. Or maybe they’d had but knew better than to irritate Nero Sartori.
“What…what are you doing here?”
“Nero thought that it’d be worth hearing you out,” I told her, and I could see a flicker of pain flash in her blue orbs, though that was something that I could easily ignore.
