Page 38 of The Marriage Contract

I shudder, still not looking at him, but I’m forced to when he violently stabs the knife into the wood of the table. “I asked you a question.”

“No. I don’t know.”

He grins a thin, ugly smile. “The other fellas don’t much like the things Vesper does to ladies. Some of them got their morals, or that’s what they call them, anyway. Me? I take a more flexible view. Get what I mean? They don’t want to be here in case I’ve got to make you see sense. Please, make me have to make you see sense. Get it?”

Part of acting is using my imagination to immerse my mind fully in a character’s experience, but this doesn’t require much effort. I don’t have totryto imagine what hemightmean. This man, the psycho who refers to himself in the third person, is willing to go to lengths even regular Mafia soldiers won’t. That means serious, life-ending abuse.

“That wasn’t rhetorical,” he says.

“I understand.”

He taps the knife against the table. “Why don’t you try to give me some fight, hmm? Why don’t you try to be a bit moreinteresting?”

“Fighting would be useless,” I say. “Or am I wrong about that?”

“No, you’re right,” he says with a sigh, “but it’d still be more interesting than this crap.”

I’m sorry I’m not interesting to you. I almost give some sass. It’s absurd. Thinking back on all the times I sassed Dario feels just as silly. I was a naïve little girl, locked away from the nasty partsof his life, believing he was somebody he was not, somebody he could never be.

“Do you think your knight in shining armor is going to save you?” Vesper asks after another long pause. He keeps tap-tap-tapping the blade against the table. He probably likes the fact I flinch every time he does it.

“I don’t know,” I murmur.

“I know—nope. You’re shit out of luck. Nothing’s going to change for you. Nobody’s going to appear and—What the fuck …”

He trails off, turning at the loudcracknoise. I try not to let hope flare. Even if Dario has somehow found us, that doesn’t mean he’ll be able to get to me before Vesper does something.

When Vesper stands and goes to the window, I scream at myself,Get him. Get him!But my hands are tied, and I’m just too scared. I’ve watched movies and read books where I’ve yelled at the action scene, willing the character into movement. Yet, in real life, it’s nothing like that. Here, now, I feel like I’m surrounded by landmines.

Vesper turns to me, sneering when there are morecracknoises. I’m guessing it’s more gunshots.

“We’re going to the cellar,” he growls, marching over and grabbing my arm. “The big boss and me, we made a deal. Even if the Moretti dog comes, I’ve got to keep my end. See, I’ve got people—folks who need me. Even if Vesper dies here, those folks will be taken care of. See, slut? There’s no way out for you. I just might have to make it quicker than I’d like, that’s all.”

As he drags me through the rundown farmhouse, I try to will my limbs into action. I try todo something, but this is nothing like acting—sinking into a role and becoming somebody else. The cold reality of my bound hands is too much. The cold fact of his hand on my arm, his fingers sinking into me—all of this is too far away from anything I’ve ever experienced or imagined.

He tears open the cellar door. It’s so old that one of the hinges comes loose with a whining noise as if protesting. Outside, there are more gunshots, an almost unbroken series of them now. Men are yelling, but I can’t make out any words.

“Move,” Vesper grunts.

I stare down into the darkness, my heart beating in my throat.

“Please,” I whisper as more tears come.

“I can kill you here just as easy,” he snaps. “Move. Now.”

I turn to him, his sneering face distorted with my tears. I hate the fact that the tears won’t stop. I hate this crippling feeling that has taken over me.

“If you’re going to do it, do it here, then,” I sob.

He grinds his teeth. “Dumb bitch. I’m supposed to keep you alive.”

“Then why say you’re going to k?—”

“I like my bitches scared.Move.”

He grabs my arm and shoves me. I’ve got no choice except to walk toward the stairs. It’s either that, or I’ll fall down them. Suddenly, Vesper makes a yelping noise and lets go of me. I turn to find him lying on the floor, his leg bleeding. My cloudy mind struggles to catch up to what’s just happened.

“The fuck,” he groans, looking down at the gunshot in his leg.

---