Page 18 of I.O.U.

“But you didn’t answer. How is it my problem if you go crazy?”

“Do you really want to have a crazy person under your roof? This is a pretty nice house. Lots of nice things that a person with nothing but time on their hands could find a way to ruin, you know?”

That was a mistake. I mean, not like I didn’t know it was before it even came out of my mouth, but the man is completely out of his mind if he thinks I’m going to stay in that room and stare at the walls all day. He bolts up from his chair. “Jock, leave us alone, please.” His footfalls ring out behind me, fading as he leaves the room. Jock. What a stupid name.

Luca’s breathing brings to mind a bull ready to charge. Here I go, stirring him up when I knew he was already on edge. When am I going to defend myself with? A smushed banana?

“It seems you need to be reminded of a few things.” His voice is quiet, cold as he takes one measured step after another. I stand my ground, feet planted, fighting the impulse to run. How many times have I seen that look in someone’s eyes? My mother, her boyfriends. This is a person on the verge of rage, rage he wants to take out on me. I’m a little too old now to go hide under the bed or in the closet, though.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” I remind him, and I hear the desperation leaking into my voice. “I never did anything to hurt your family. I’m not the one who got into debt, either. Why shouldn’t I at least have books to read while I wait for you to send me someplace else?”

“Because you belong to me now, and as such, you do as I say.”

“I never said I wouldn’t service you,” I remind him, though the very thought makes my stomach churn. “I’ll be available to you whenever you want. But you’re a busy man. You have other things to do. What do I do during my downtime? Don’t the girls at your establishments have ways to pass the time when they’re not working?”

“It’s none of your fucking business. Right now you are under my roof, and you’re going to do as I say.” He walks around me in a slow circle. Goosebumps rise over my arms. I have to fight against the urge to shiver.

Then, like a snake, he strikes, closing in from behind and wrapping a hand around my throat. The pressure is enough to make my heart jump before it starts pounding like mad. I’m afraid to move a muscle. The way he wants me, in other words.

“You belong to me,” he reminds me in a whisper, his breath hot against my ear. With his other hand, he explores my breasts, cupping them, squeezing until it hurts. I won’t give him the satisfaction of whimpering or showing that I feel anything. He’s not going to break me.

“And while you did well last night,” he continues, his hand now sliding down over my stomach and making the muscles twitch and jump in response, “that’s only the tip of the iceberg. I plan to use you until I’m tired of you. Then I’ll send you away, once I’m through with my toy. Until then, you will obey me. Do you understand?”

He wedges his hand between my legs, cupping my mound and squeezing like he did to my breasts. Tears spring to my eyes, but he can’t see them. That’s the one little glimmer of pride I have left to hang onto. He can’t see them.

“Do you?” he demands, and now the hand around my throat tightens while his other hand moves beneath my waistband. Every part of me wants to wrench myself away. I could stomp on his instep and put an end to this real quick, but that would only lead to worse things.

“I’m going to use this pussy until I’m tired of it.” His fingers are like snakes sliding over my shaved mound. Bile rises in my throat, now tight enough that I can hardly breathe. “I will eat it. Finger it. Fuck it. Understood?”

When I don’t answer fast enough, he finds my clit and tweaks it until tears spring to my eyes. “Understood?”

“Understood,” I croak. His dark, knowing chuckle lights a fire of rage in my core but there’s nothing I can do about it. I’m helpless. I have no options here, not right now.

“Good girl.” He releases the pressure on my clit in favor of stroking it gently. “I can be generous, too. I could make your legs shake while you scream my name and squirt on my face. I could make you speak in tongues while you come around my cock. But only if you play nice. Can you do that?”

No way would this man ever make me do those things. I’d rather set myself on fire than let him eat me, much less anything else. But that’s not the answer he wants, and his hand is in a very important place. In other words, only one answer will do. “Yes. I can do that.”

“I thought so.”

The ringing of the phone on the desk is enough to stop him from continuing this sick little game. He mutters something in Italian, but he releases me, as well. I pull in as much air as I can, trembling, while he marches over and yanks the receiver from its cradle. “What?” he barks.

His brows draw together, his jaw tightens. His dark eyes meet mine for an instant before darting away. “I see. Thank you for letting me know.” He’s considerably quieter when he hangs up.

He then leans over, his palms on the desk, and for a second he hangs his head low. “Well. It seems I’m down an employee.” He meets my gaze again. “That was the doctor. The sick girl I told you about? She died from her injuries early this morning.”

Oh, my God. I didn’t know the girl. I never met her, I don’t even know what she looked like or why she ended up working for this heartless monster. All I can do is imagine Deanna in her place. What if something like that happened to her?

“See?” he asks, a corner of his mouth pulling up in a smirk. “You should be thanking me. That could have been you in her place. You still think you have it so bad here?”

“You’re a fucking monster,” I blurt out, shaking.

“You wouldn’t be the first to tell me that, so pardon me if I don’t take it hard.” He raises his voice. “Jock? Get her back to her room. I have more important things to take care of right now.”

This time, I don’t raise an argument. I follow Jock, my head spinning, my heart in my throat. That poor girl. What are they going to do now? Will she even have a funeral? Something tells me this isn’t the kind of thing that can be shared with the world. I wonder if she even has a family.

It’s not until I’m back in the room, with the door locked this time, that I realize I’m still holding the banana. I let it fall from my fingers before bursting into tears.

I don’t know who I’m crying for.

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