Page 19 of Capo

Seven

Chloe

Luciano Salvatore’s words wrap tighter than any rope would around my throat. I feel as if I’m drowning. Bruised, naked, shivering under his cold and yet heated gaze, I try to form even one coherent thought, but my mind is a jumbled mess of raw fear. A sickening feeling that everything is too late claws at my insides.

“Please,” I whisper. “Let me go. Let me get dressed. Let me go.” I’m transfixed by his black eyes. There’s hunger in them and it makes my stomach churn. He looks me over, his expression the same infuriatingly neutral he’s carried the whole time, but something new flares in his gaze.

“Take off that bandage.”

My hands fly up to cover it, to protect my chest from the worsened pain that will follow if I remove the bandage. I yelp as he grabs my wrist and pulls it to him.

“You’ll hurt even worse if you don’t do what I tell you,” he growls. “Either I rip it off you, and I can promise you it won’t be a pleasant experience. For you. Or I grant you the generous opportunity to remove it yourself.”

New tears spill over my cheeks as my fingers search for the tape that holds the wraps. I’m in a state of such mad panic that I can’t feel my hands, and with the fumbling it seems to take forever. Finally, I begin uncovering my last patches of bruised skin, the worst parts, lap after lap, wincing from the strain on my aching muscles. My legs still tremble from standing for so long. It felt like hours. I have no idea how long he made me stand naked with my back to his business partners. I felt it every time someone new entered the room. The silence, the air thickening, the questions hanging between us three people in the room, unasked. Then there were the ones who bluntly asked. I’ve never felt so dirty before in my life.

My hand shakes violently as I pull off the last lap and lower my arm, clutching the white cotton strip.

Salvatore smirks. “Stand up.”

“Please.” My voice is nothing but a hoarse weird noise, the word barely identifiable. He grabs my hair and pulls me to my feet. I scream as I clutch his hand, trying to relieve the tearing pain in my scalp.

“You have nothing, Chloe,” he snarls, his face so close that his breath fans my lips, “You are nobody. There is nothing I can’t do to you. Absolutely no one will come to your aid. Do you understand? You can scream all you want, the only thing that will happen is that I punish you again and again until you obey me.”

Ravaging fear mixed with anger boils up inside me, shooting the lid off. “Never,” I scream. Then I spit in his face, the foamy liquid landing on his cheek. “Never, do you hear me?”

He holds my gaze one moment longer, then he turns and pulls me with him. I stumble and fall, burning my skin on the carpet as he drags me over it.

“You will be punished for that. It will be your first lesson.” He pushes a button on his desk. “Have Elena call me. Pronto!”

“Yes, sir,” says the same voice as before.

I still hold his hand in my hair, whimpering with pain.

“Up on your knees,” he growls, and I don’t dare to not obey.

He sits in his wooden, old-fashioned office chair, his legs spread wide, my spit still on his cheek. His eyes don’t leave mine, and I’m hypnotized by his dark gaze. We both twitch as his phone chimes. He doesn’t look away as he taps the screen twice.

“Elena,” he says.

“Mr. Salvatore. What can I do for you?” He’s put the call on loudspeaker. The woman’s voice is warm, intimate, and sounds professional at the same time.

“Send me a girl.”

“Right away, sir. Any preferences?”

He looks me over and a leery expression that makes my heart skip a beat comes over him. “Athletic, tall, blonde.”

“She will be with you in thirty.”

“Make it twenty,” he says and taps the screen, killing the call. Leaning forward, he pulls me closer. “Lick this shit off. Make it hot.”

I recoil, disgusted. Hell no. He’s not having it and tugs harder at my hair, making me whimper.

“You have exactly two choices,” he growls, his face so close that his features become blurred. “Do as I say, and I’ll let you rest on that couch the rest of the afternoon, or disobey me and in exactly four minutes from now you’ll be hanging in chains in my basement.”

I choke down the scream that wants to escape me. He can’t do this! This isn’t happening. I want my life back! My eyes dart between his. They’re charcoal black and without a hint of compassion. My heart sinks like a stone. I glance at the spit and lean in, disgusted. Not so much by the thought of licking off my own spit, but by the thought that I’ll put my tongue on this monster. I swallow against the nausea and touch his skin with the tip of my tongue. His dark stubble scratches my tongue as I lick a path upward. Surrounded by his scent, a heavy musky cologne with hints of citrus, a tang of earthy cigar, a rush of something undefinable shoots through me as he growls, low and sensual and still menacing. Everything about him is menace, horror, death, and still something happens in the air between us as I lean back slightly, having fulfilled my task. Then it’s gone as suddenly as it appeared. He lets go of my hair, shoving me away.

“Go sit on the couch and shut up.”

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