I try not to show the fear I'm feeling. Instead, I look him in the eyes, all the while searching for the panic button Marcello had given me. It's a small device that will release a deafeningnoise if activated. He'd been so worried about our presence here that he'd thought about everything, bless his heart.
His fingers are rough and bruising on my face, but I try not to cry out. My hand is in my bag, searching for the panic button.
"Is this how you got my cousin? With this innocent look of yours?"
I don't reply.
"Answer me!"
I purse my lips.
"Bitch!" His movement is so sudden I can barely react. His hand shoots out and wraps itself around my throat. Instinctively, my arms go around his hold, trying to loosen the grip. My purse drops to the floor, all the contents spilling out.
No!
"Let go!" I groan, my hands kicking at his chest and face. He seems amused by my efforts, and he smirks.
"You poor thing," He coos derisively. "I wonder if one night between your thighs is really worth dying for."
Still choking me with one hand, he starts pulling at my gown with the other.
No! Not this! Not again!
My heart is racing, my mind almost blanking. Tears gather around the corner of my eyes.
"No, please. Don't do this to me!" I beg him, trying to push him off me.
He doesn't budge.
The back of his hand connects with my cheek so hard I'm seeing stars. I struggle to keep my balance, and he's once again tearing at my dress, his fingers skimming the inside of my thigh.
No!
I don't know what happens next. I start yelling like a banshee, limbs flailing and kicking.
I won't go down! I'm not letting him do this to me!
He seems momentarily surprised by me fighting back, but it's short-lived. He thrusts me towards the sinks, and my back hits the steel.
I reel from the pain.
He's struggling with his belt when the door opens, and some women gawk at us.
"Help..." My voice is hoarse as I try to call out, but they just giggle and leave.
No!
"You really think anyone's going to help you?" He mocks me as he holds me down.
He's trying to pull the dress over my hips when I see my chance. With as much force as I can muster, I bring my knee up and hit him. He groans, stumbling back and releasing me. I don't waste any time running out of the bathroom.
I need to find Marcello. I need him.
Just thinking about thewhat-ifhas me hysterical, tears running down my face.
I reach the ballroom and I desperately look around, trying to spot my husband.
And then I hear them.