Page 1 of Scarred (Russian Sinners 2)

Prologue

Olivia

Six Months Ago

My engagement announcement, I thought wryly.

Just the thought was sickening. With the last of the guests leaving, I was left standing in the hallway with Malcome by my side. His scent sickened me; his closeness disgusted me. I didn’t want to stay, but he demanded it. I detested him, everything about him. The feeling of hate and disgust was so intense I feared I’d drown in it.

Anastasia’s worried gaze kept coming back to me as she walked away from me. I nodded at her with a false bravado when in fact silent screams echoed in my head. My ears buzzed from the intense emotions. When Anastasia threw another glance over her shoulder, I forced something resembling a smile to my lips and prayed it didn’t come off as a grimace. I knew she fought not to say something or pull me out of here, hating the fact she was leaving me with this despicable, cruel man.

Once she disappeared from my view, without a word, I walked over to his library. Stopping by the large windows, I waited… unmoving, although every instinct in me urged me to run. I had to run as far away from here as possible.

My desperation to escape this scene grew with each heartbeat. I knew what would follow. Now, Malcome considered me his property with my father’s full blessing. There would be nothing stopping him from making all his promises come to fruition.

I was so sick and tired of the men in my life making decisions concerning my well-being. I should rephrase that; they were making decisions for their own well-being, using me like I was nothing but human chattel. If not for my mother, I would have told them both to fuck off and walked away. But I couldn’t let my mother bear the consequences. I was stronger than her, at least I hoped so, and would survive this unscathed… somehow.

“Alone at last, Olivia,” Malcome’s voice was close to me, way too close for comfort. I had to stifle the shiver of disgust that threatened to run down my spine.

A true terror unlike any I felt before bloomed inside me and had me swallowing hard. Images played in the forefront of my mind, causing increased panic with each heavy breath I took. I hoped they would retreat soon as my heart raced and a feeling of being lightheaded threatened me. I couldn’t afford that right now.

“What should we do?” he debated, his finger tracing exposed skin on my back and I instantly regretted wearing this light blouse with an open back. With this man, even if I wore a double pullover, it still wouldn’t be enough to feel clean and sheltered.

“I could go home,” I spat back in a whisper, with the very little backbone I had left. “And you could go jerk off alone or go to hell… whichever I don’t give a shit.”

Before I could take another breath, his hand wrapped around my neck. For a revolting, older man, his grip was surprisingly powerful. He pressed his hand hard enough to disrupt my airway but never hard enough to leave a mark.

“Watch yourself, Olivia,” he warned, his breath against my cheek.

He wouldn’t kiss me though; I knew it. He hated kissing. He preferred to hurt his women in sick, twisted ways. After all, I heard his words plenty of times, his sick promises of what would come when I was his. Now he’d finally gotten me.

A loud shred echoed in the room as he tore my blouse in half. Pulling the material off my shoulders, he wrapped my wrists with it. He used it as bondage, pulling the knot so tight I couldn’t help but wince.

“Why are you doing this?” I whispered, my heart pounding in fear.

“Because I can.”

His cruel smile was pure hate. I couldn’t understand why he wanted this if he despised me as much as I despised him. I disgusted him as much as he repulsed me.

“But don’t you worry,” he purred in the worst way possible. “I won’t rape you. I’ll save that for our wedding night.”

An involuntary whimper left my lips. This man was pure evil; there wasn’t a shred of humanity left in him.

There are different kinds of rapes, and they all hurt,I thought to myself as I braced myself for what was coming.

My senses were overwhelmed by my pounding heart, the bitter taste of fear on my tongue. There would be no escaping this unscathed; what a stupid, naive thought that was. You’d think I’d know by now better than to hope where there was none.

With my hands tied in front of my body, he pulled a bandana from his pocket and secured it around my eyes, blinding me to the world around me. Tugging me along by the blouse wrapped around my wrists, I stumbled behind him across what I thought was the threshold into the hallway. Without warning, I was shoved against the wall.

With each heartbeat, my panic rose and I worked desperately to tamper it down. Malcome got off on women’s fear and I refused to give him satisfaction… no matter how scared I was right now.

His body pressed into my back, pushing me further into the wall. I felt tears sting my eyes, threatening to spill at any second, but I quickly blinked them away and bit hard on the inside of my cheek to prevent my sobs from escaping. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of listening to me cry no matter how badly I wanted to.

My skirt followed, leaving me standing pressed against the wall wearing only my white bra, panties, and heels.

His rough hands grabbed the elastic of my panties, and I bit harder into my cheek to stop the protest forming on my lips. He let go and a loud snap echoed in the room, the sting on my skin was welcomed because it meant my panties would stay on. Without my sight, and the panic and fear flooding my body, all my other senses seemed to heighten drastically. I kept quiet and tried to keep my breathing even, careful not to reveal any relief that keeping that little piece of cloth on brought me.

His sweaty hands roamed over my butt, caressing it roughly as it roamed over one cheek and then the other before he reached between my legs and grabbed my pussy through the thin cotton material. Yet it wasn’t that hand that had me holding my breath. It was his other hand that pressed the sharp, cold metal against my inner thigh, inches from my most private spot.

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