Page 19 of To Have and to Hold

“Please,” I begged, unwilling to give up and very willing to look like a twat to reach my goal. “I’m not giving up.”

Dad, and I called him that when I wanted to piss him off, scowled at me. A familiar expression. Especially this morning, when I’d barged into their hotel room at the ass crack of dawn and began wearing him down, begging him to let me stay with Violet and Rafael, to not make me return to Chicago. Charlie was staying. I could too. Part of the deal was Charlie hanging back and assisting the business merger that came with the family'sofficial entry into the church. He’d been at it already for months, living in a house with his fiancé on the edge of Rafe’s compound. I wanted in on that. But having never shown an interest before, my dearest dad was suspicious as hell.

I had a decent life out in Chicago, good friends, a job that paid well and didn’t involve too much effort. Killing or threatening the occasional sad sack for the family business wasn’t difficult. Once or twice a month was typical. The rest of the time, I followed my own interests. It’s how Connor had dug his claws in so deep, I think. Anyone could do the job I did, anyone could enforce and hurt. Brain not required.

“Theodore, drop it,” Dad hissed. “You will return to Chicago and continue your duties there for now.”

“I will not,” I spat back, making to stand from my chair. We’d gathered for breakfast at Rafael’s beach house, a morning after affair for close relations only. Rafael and Violet had yet to appear, almost thirty minutes late already. The only food out was small pastries and bowls of fruit. I’d eaten enough mango to never look at one again. Fucking ravenous after spending all night worrying my stomach to ulcer. Stress-eating until my body was fit to burst.

Connor would be furious too, if last night was any indication. I could not abandon the plans we’d made in hushed back alley conversations. I couldn’t do nothing for my sister. Either way, I was fucked. Fucked beyond belief. But my mind refused to settle, my body on fire with adrenaline and anger. I needed to play the long game, Connor said, don’t act suspicious or eager. He told me dad wouldn’t hesitate to end me if he thought it was necessary. I didn’t know how much of that I believed, but looking at him now, with the darkness in his eyes and the lack of any sympathy for his daughter, I could believe it. We were mere pawns to him. Why it hadn’t truly sunk into my bones until now remained a mystery.

“Theodore, one more word from you, and you won’t like what happens next. You assume Violet is the only child whose body I have use for?” Dad said, but before I could react, or he could bite back those words I don’t think he’d meant to spill, footsteps sounded in the hall, just outside the door.

A man, a bodyguard or some other ass-licker of Rafe’s, stepped into the room, his head bowed in deference as he held the door open.

Rafael swept in first, smug and refreshed, like we hadn’t seen him mere hours ago, slamming back the whiskey and laughing with his buddies about what he was going to do with his new young wife. I assumed, anyway. I hadn’t actually been privy to those conversations. But the reminder that I’d been there before him was an enjoyable thought. He wasn’t the first in there. His wife had a secret. One I hoped got her through the night.

My brewing smirk dropped, though, when Violet followed him. Her face down, sallow, her steps tentative and delicate, as if she was in pain with each one she took. I looked to our father, imploring him to say something about his obviously injured daughter, but he just rose to his feet and shook Rafe’s hand as if they were old friends.

“Good morning, son,” he said, like he wasn’t gripping the palm of the monster that abused his daughter.

“Mr Lewis,” Rafe responded, returning the shake. I watched the tension ripple between them before their grips released. Interesting. There was no love lost there. I wondered if negotiations were still rocky. Violet was a pot sweetener, not the end deal.

Dad didn’t even bother to glance at his daughter, his sacrifice, and failed to notice that when she sat down on the hard wooden chair next to me, she let out a little gasp of pain, almost jumping back up before stopping herself. Her fucking lipwobbled.

“Vi,” I said under my breath, unable to help myself, trying and damn well failing to hide how distraught I was.

She sniffed, remained stiff, careful with her movements as Rafe settled into his seat at the head of the table. Violet was next to him, opposite my father. Charlie faced me, and a few of Rafe’s family members filled the rest of the chairs. My mother was missing, as were my sisters. In fact, Violet was the only woman here. Even the servers and guards were all male. I couldn’t imagine how that must make her feel. Where were all the other women? I knew they existed, I'd seen them. They were important to the church. Their bodies, anyway. But there were none visible in the house apart from Vi.

I let my eyes fall over each of the men not at the table. Four of them. All with that now familiar darkness leeching through the pores of their skin. Two, who looked like brothers, stood by the door behind us, almost flanking Violet, but far enough away that she couldn’t feel it. I scowled at them, noting their appearances for when I needed something to imagine as I shot someone I didn’t care about for a transgression I was indifferent towards. They had dark hair, heavy set brows, deep frowns. Bulky fuckers, too.

The other two were smaller, more my size, like they swam for exercise rather than lifted weights. The way they moved around the room, glared from person to person like I did, set me on edge. They looked at us with knowledge behind their eyes I didn’t like, an inside joke, something to keep them smirking while my father, Charlie and I stayed tense.

But Rafe, it was him the most darkness radiated from. He didn’t even try to hide it. There was blood on his knuckles, under his nails, but he picked up his coffee and sipped, the red a beacon to my eyes. Was it Violet’s blood? Had she bled for him in more ways than one last night? I knew in doing what we did, it removed the chance she might bleed during the first push,but this man was vicious, violent, blood-thirsty. He would have pulled it from her somehow. It was necessary. But no one would tell me why.

I itched to touch Violet, to soothe her, but I didn’t want to hurt her further. Whatever the bastard had done was causing her immeasurable pain. Touching her, for two reasons, might bring further anguish. If he saw, he may punish her. If I touched her where it hurt, it could sting or ache or make her flinch. And I couldn’t fucking abide that. I couldn’t abide being the one to make her hurt.

As the servers busied themselves dishing out the hot breakfast, everyone fell into small smatterings of chatter. Charlie, my father, and Rafe spoke in inaudible murmurs about the business, and Rafe’s family ignored us. I turned to Violet, noting the smaller portion on her plate and scowling. I doubted she’d eaten anything yesterday either, and she was only frowning at the fruit placed in front of her on the table, pushing her fork through cut up pineapple, trying to hide how upset she was.

“Are you okay?” I asked her, low, in case anyone thought it was accusatory towards Rafe at all. I was aware that I was in his house. Now wasn’t the time to be throwing stones.

I hated seeing pale, pallid Violet emerging before my very eyes.

She didn’t even bother to nod or try to lie when I repeated my question. Her gaze caught mine, and as subtly as she could, she shook her head. “Not okay,” she muttered, then bit her lip, her eyes darting to her husband. Exhaustion and fear plagued her every move.

I had so many questions, so many things I wanted to ask, to examine, to check. Overwhelmed with the urge to soothe her and make her feel better, my hand landed on her thigh. Under the tablecloth hanging over our laps, no one could see the touch, but the connection to her zapped through me like a lightning bolt.

Violet whimpered, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment as she lifted her leg, letting me know the connection was affecting her too. I rubbed a small circle into her skin, the skirt she wore having ridden up as she sat down.

Despite myself, sickened in fact, my mind never strayed from what we’d done together, the feel of her on my cock, the way I’d pushed through her boundaries at her request and claimed her. We shouldn’t have gone through with it. If anyone found out we had, it wouldn’t just be anger from our families, it would be disgust. Arrest, even, if our family was anything other than massive criminals, anyway. The unforgettable moments we shared could never be repeated.

But the feel of her thigh under my hand was more disgustingly incredible than anyone else I’d ever touched. I was foul, thinking of her like that when she was in such clear pain. But her skin pebbled for me, and her breath hitched a little, only for me to hear. I turned my head to look at her, but Rafe spoke, ripping me away from that quiet moment.

“To family,” he said, growing louder, breaking the tension between Violet and me. With great reluctance, I let my grip fall from her leg and grabbed my champagne glass, holding it aloft with everyone else.

Violet raised her orange juice, her hand shaking. Her sleeve slipped down a fraction and my eyes caught on the redness around her wrist. Hot anger stabbed through my body, staggering breaths to calm myself back down in one swift second. Fucking hell, that bastard had to pay. I couldn’t let this happen. Icouldn’t.

“To family,” everyone parroted, raising our glasses in unison and spending a minute clinking them all together. When my glass bashed against Rafe’s, I willed poison into his drink. When our gazes met for a moment, he showed a flicker of surprise inhis eyes. The surprise turned to vicious mirth, and he sat back down.

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