He shifts his grip from my wrists to my hair and drags me upright. He turns me to face him, then drives me to my knees as he kicks my dagger just out of reach.
“Got all that, Dandelion?”
“My name is Vittoria.”
I try to pry his hand off. He’s pulling, and it fucking hurts. But he only squeezes harder.
“A dandelion is a weed. I think it fits.” He leans down so we’re nose to nose. “I asked you a fucking question.”
“Yes, I got it, asshole!”
He chuckles, releases me, then picks the dagger up off the ground and steps back.
“Good girl. Now do as you’re told and undress.”
I put my hand on the bed to get to my feet, cursing him all along, knowing I’m on the fucking edge of sobbing, and I can’t let him see that.
Emma. I have to focus on Emma. I need to survive and get back to her. “I need to call my sister. If I do this, you’ll let me call her.”
“There you go making demands again.”
“Please.”
“Better. We will see. After you’ve shown me you can take an order. Count yourself lucky that I’m giving you this opportunity. I don’t like repeating myself.” He checks his watch like he might have somewhere to be, the fucking asshole.
I grit my teeth and reach back to pull the zipper down the rest of the way. It catches, but I manage, pulling my arms out and letting the dress pool at my ankles. I take the strap and holster off next and stumble as I get the stockings off so I have to sit on the edge of the bed to do it. I stand when I’m in my bra and panties. His eyes are on mine. Not looking me over like I expect him to. Like I expect any man would.
“Everything.”
“What could I be hiding in my underwear?”
He casually shrugs a shoulder. “I just want to get a look at you.”
“You’re an asshole.”
“So you’ve said.”
I slip off my bra and panties, trying not to think about it. Not to think about being naked in front of this man and so completely vulnerable.
“Satisfied?” I ask, forcing my arms to remain at my sides. I will not cower.
He lets his gaze move slowly over me. It feels like he’s touching every inch of my skin. It takes all I have not to cover myself, and I feel my face grow hot with fury or shame, I’m going to tell myself it’s the former when he finally meets my eyes.
“Spin.”
“I don’t have anything on me. There’s nowhere to hide anything.”
He shrugs a shoulder. “Give yourself more credit than that, Dandelion. I’m sure you can be crafty. Don’t force me to do a more thorough search.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Try me.”
I hold up my middle finger. This is to humiliate me. To punish me. So instead of doing a quick spin, I look him in the eyes and turn, keeping my gaze over my shoulder, glaring as he takes me in.
“Seen enough to jerk off to later?”
“Why jerk off when you’re standing right here? Now face me.”
My heart thuds at his insinuation, and it takes all I have to face him. To keep my spine straight and look at him.
“Good girl.”
“Fuck you.”
He casually turns to move to the bookshelf. Earlier, I’d seen the single leather-bound volume that looked more like a photo album than anything else, but I hadn’t investigated the contents. He pulls it out and sets it on the table by that vase of wilted, drooping flowers, flipping through a few pages before closing it and turning back to me.
“Not-so-light reading for you to pass the time,” he says and heads toward the door. “You can get dressed now.”
“Wait!” I call out as he opens it, stopping short when I see the guard’s face as he pokes his head in and sees me. I flip him off, then wrap an arm over my breasts and set my hand between my legs.
He hands the dagger to the soldier and makes a point of leaving the door open when he turns back to me.
“Yes, Dandelion?”
“My call. You said I could call my sister.”
“I said we’d see, and I saw and decided you won’t be making any calls just yet. I mean, where is the lesson to be learned if I just let you make the call? Give you what you want when you throw a tantrum. It’s how you spoil children, isn’t it?”
Rage uncoils inside me. “You said—”
“I said we’d see.” He checks his watch again, and this time, when he spins to leave, that rage that starts as a slow burn in my belly courses through my veins, and I find myself charging him. He turns just in time to catch me when I jump, all claws and nails. I get my fingernails into his neck, but he’s too fast and, within moments, has me on my back on the bed, his full weight on me, both of us breathing heavy. He pins my wrists over my head and draws back a little, looking at me as I process what it is I’m feeling. What it is that’s pressing between my legs.
“I’m going to enjoy you, Dandelion,” he says with a slow thrust of his hips.
I freeze, unsure what to do. Unsure how far he’s willing to go. And he holds on to me until I finally look away, being the first to break eye contact. Another victory for him.
He straightens, then adjusts the cuffs of his shirt. I remain where I am as he stands looking down at me. I know I’m beaten.
He turns to go.
“Is it money you want? Ransom?” I ask, sitting up. “My brother—”
At that, he spins angrily back, and I find myself cowering from the sudden storm in his eyes. “Look around you. Does it look like I need your money?” He looks like it’s taking all he has to hold himself back from launching at me, and I wonder if I got off lucky just now when he resumes his walk toward the door.
“Tell me your name,” I call out. He stops. “I don’t even know your name. I don’t know who you are.”
He looks back at me. “Amadeo Del Campo Caballero. Now you know my name.” He points at the book he left on the bureau. “In there, you’ll see who I am.”
He gives me a once-over, and I’m very aware of how naked I am. I draw my knees together and tuck them to myself. His eyes meet mine, and there’s nothing victorious or arrogant in them. Just a deep, unending darkness like a void. And after everything that’s happened now, that makes me shudder. That has me pulling the blanket close and hugging my arms around myself.
A moment later, he walks out without a word or a backward glance, and the door is once again locked.
6
Amadeo
I take the dagger from the guard. It’s a small but sharp knife, both pretty and deadly like her. I go to my room and slip it into the nightstand drawer, touching the place on my neck where the cut has already closed up. The scratches from her fingernails burn. It’s a good reminder that even stripped naked, she has claws. I want to take a shower before returning downstairs to clean the filth of the afternoon off me. And I need a minute.
I’ve known this day was coming for fifteen years. The day I would take my vengeance for what the Russo family did to us. But it's a different reality to have her here, in my home, flesh and blood.
She may be innocent of the crime that led us to this day, but I remind myself that the fact that she’s oblivious to the violence brought upon my family, the thing that put Hannah in the ground, makes her as guilty. She’s lived her merry little life all these years while we’ve dealt with the consequence of what her brother did. What her father ordered done. It is enough to push me to the edge of the void that is the deep, dark fury inside me. But I can manage that. I knew it would be like this with her. She was too young to remember. Even though she saw it, she didn’t understand, that is certain, and her own memory coupled with her love for her father would have buried the reality of what happened that day in our small kitchen.