Page 24 of Pain and Possession

My smile leaves my face, the bitter reminder of my situation floods in releasing me from the rose-colored haze I had momentarily allowed to cloud my judgement. He kidnapped and drugged me. Probably has Trent too, he's a boss in the Italian mafia. He's dangerous and cruel, he forced himself on me and humiliated me in front of his men. He's the same brand of person who shot my parents in the street when I was just a baby, orphaned me while my mother bled out slumped across my stroller. These are the facts; I'll repeat them the entire time I'm here if that's what I have to do.

Chapter six

Possession

Olive

I walk out of the closet feeling more self conscious than ever. Noè bought clothes for me, which is fucking weird. What part of stalking the girl you like and drugging her screams maybe I'll get her some pretty dresses.

They are beautifuland probably very expensive.

Noè is leaned up against the wall scrolling through his phone still shirtless making me feel even more out of place. I picked out a black floral sundress, beautiful white flowers adorning the skirt that stops just above my knee and it has pockets.Pockets.

Not something I would've chosen for myself, but I can't deny its nice. Too bad I'll be leaving it here, no gifts.

Not from him.

"You look beautiful Olive, but if there's another style, you're more than welcome to throw those out."

I gawk, "This dress is probably worth more than my soul. How can you saythrow it out?

He rolls his eyes, "I want you, Olive. Badly. Being mine has perks outside of my cock." I blush as I fiddle with my hair, it's frizzy despite my best efforts to tame it. I catch sight of myself in the floor-length mirror resting proudly where I'm sure it's sat for more years than I've been alive. I look nothing likeme.He walks over slipping a delicate silver bracelet around my pale wrist, a charm dangles from it sporting the same crest that's inked into his neck.

The Arcuri family crest.

My stomach churns as it slides across my skin, "Please stop."

He pauses for a moment, his eyes flash with a new rawness before he continues adjusting it on my small wrist. Wrapping his hand around it, "Humor me doll, I enjoy dressing you up."

"Not with this... this is your mark."

"How is that any different from the ones decorating your pretty neck?" My eyes lower, of course there were no clothes that could cover those. I'm sure this is all part of some bigger plan he has for me.

He lifts my wrist to his lips, kissing it softly, "I'm asking you to be mine, to belong to my family the proper way. Have you any concept of how important this is to me?" My breath catches in my throat, forcing my chest to constrict along with it. No, I hadn't. From the very start this was supposed to be an insignificant one-off thing. A thing that happened right before everything in the world ceased to matter. When he acted the way he did that next morning I just assumed it was because he enjoyed fucking me.Not liked…me.

What if he truly means it? Truly cares for you.

"It doesn't matter what it means Noè, the answer will always beno.I know nothing about you, not really. What I do know I don't like and it's definitely not safe to be anything to you. As you’ve shown me."

He smiles down at me, but there's no warmth there. "I intend to show you exactly who I am." With that not at all threatening response he heads into the closet. I watch as he shifts through the clothes and suits hanging there before choosing in a deep gray long sleeve button-up shirt and black dress pants.

God, he's so fucking attractive.

When he catches me gawking at him, I quickly turn away going back to fiddling with my hair. His eyes meet mine in the mirror as he gently runs his fingertips up my exposed arms into my hair. He grabs my wrist and my core clencheswanting him, especially after he left me aching and unsatisfied earlier. An ache that never left. He leads me to his desk and opens a drawer, taking out a black rubber band before walking behind me. His skilled fingers work through my hair sectioning it out.

"You know how to braid hair?" I ask my voice filled with need.

"I used to braid my little sister's. She always wanted these ridiculously complex ones, pain in my ass." He complains but I know it's superficial. He has a little sister… no wonder he seemed so comfortable around Blake.

"How old is she?" I ask, internal dumbass me taking over. Maybe if he was more familiar, he'd be less appealing. He sighs heavily as he expertly weaves my long thick hair down my back as if he's done it a million times, "Sixteen." I smirk a little, the exasperation in his sigh makes me think about my foster family when I was sixteen, the Remily's. They were nice enough, but I was always a third wheel... always. They tried to keep me there, but I was determined, dead set on leaving. After the fourth time I ran away, I don't even think they bothered looking for me.

Nobody did.

"Beautiful." He mumbles against my exposed shoulder, sending a chill down my spine as he swipes the braid over the other side. It is beautiful... a Dutch braid, I think. I've never been good at things like doing hair. Aside from Lane teaching me after we met, nobody ever showed me how.I was never taught how to wash, about periods or how babies were made, how to tie my shoes or ride a bike. All those things I had to learn on my own. Having pretty hair seemed low on my list of goals.

"If your sister is sixteen, that makes you…"

"I'm thirty-five doll." I whirl around facing him, I didn't realize he was so much older than me. He raises an eyebrow, "Problem?"

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