Page 121 of Immoral

"It's not her fault. I'm irresistible to women, slut or not," the arrogant goon states, locking his eyes on mine.

I try to jump away from him, but he has a tight grip on my shoulder.

Uberto snorts. "Did your mamma tell you that, Adamo?"

He keeps his orbs on mine. "My mamma, all the women I've ever screwed, should I continue?"

"Whatever. Get your hands off her and your ass downstairs with the others," Uberto orders, motioning to the door.

Adamo pauses then releases me. He continues to stare me down then calmly announces, "Sure. I don't want to hear her scream all night."

Another wave of fear annihilates me. I turn away, staring at the wall while tears fall. The sound of his footsteps, the door shutting, and a dead bolt sliding into place hit my ears. It all makes me feel like the room is closing in on me.

Uberto grabs my elbow and drags me through another doorway. It's a living space, complete with luxury furniture, professionally decorated, and large windows covered in expensive window treatments.

It's dark outside, but I assume the drapes aren't going to get pulled back anytime soon. The faint sound of the city traffic can be heard through the glass. It's another reminder of how cruel this situation is. Gianni is so close to me, but how will he ever find me?

I swallow the lump in my throat, wishing I had a glass of water. My entire mouth is as dry as the Sahara Desert. It hurts to swallow, as if my throat might bleed.

Uberto turns on the gas fireplace. He moves toward me, and I retreat until I'm against the wall.

His lips twitch. I study him and realize he looks like he's aged ten years. Deep wrinkles extend around his mouth and eyes. When he pins his eyebrows together, his forehead erupts in more lines than in the past. Dark circles hang in bags under his orbs. "This is going to be a lot more fun for you if you tone it down a bit."

"Tone it down?" I ask, confused.

He nods then drags his knuckles over my cheek. The sensation makes bile move up my throat, but I swallow, managing to keep it down. "If you let the fear rule you, it's going to hurt worse. Not for me, but you."

My insides quiver harder. I make the mistake of asking, "What will hurt?"

A full-blown smile erupts on his face. He leans closer, tucking my hair behind my ear. A combination of his sweat and musky cologne flares in my nostrils, and I can no longer stop the nausea.

Vomit flies out of my mouth, covering his chest. I bend over, continuing to empty the few contents in my stomach from this morning, along with stomach acid.

"What the fuck, Cara!" he shouts.

My head spins. I crouch to the ground, trying to make it stop. It doesn't help. Dry heaves overwhelm me.

Uberto orders, "Stop it! Now!"

But I can't. The smell of him and my puke, and the hammer-like feeling beating into my brain, make me unable to regain my balance.

He grabs me under my armpits then drags me across the room and into a bathroom. I hug the porcelain toilet for what seems like forever as sweat coats my skin. When my stomach settles, chills take over.

"Get out there and clean up your mess," Uberto states harshly from behind me. I glance at him, wondering how this cruel man could ever have meant anything to me. He spins and leaves the room.

I take a few breaths, pry myself off the ground, then step out of the bathroom.

Uberto rips off his shirt, tossing it in the sink. He rummages in a kitchen cabinet under the sink. Then he slams cleaning products on the counter, along with a towel. "Take off your clothes and get to work."

I gape at him in horror.

He smirks. "Ah. You thought I wasn't going to treat you like the slutty slave you so clearly are?"

My teeth chatter. "Wh-what are you talking about?"

He points to the vomit. "Get your clothes off and clean up this mess, or I'll make you lick it off the floor."

The thought makes my stomach pitch again. I put my hand on my gut, close my eyes, then take a few deep breaths.

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