Page 73 of Of Desire And Deception

Fisting my hands at my sides, I screamed until my throat hurt, letting out all the pent-up frustration and rage. The sound absorption in the room denied me the satisfaction of a resounding echo, and I slumped back on the mattress, defeated.

I must have fallen asleep because I awoke sometime later to find Cosimo’s face inches from mine. Startled, I reared back. “Fuck, don’t scare me like that!”

He lifted an amused brow, his lips twitching. “I don’t think you get to make those demands, Remi. Or have I been so kind that you’ve forgotten yourself?”

“The only kindness you’ve granted me is sparing me death,” I snapped back, holding my knees to my chest. “And I question that daily.”

He hummed a little tune. “I gave you the choice of another fate already. You can’t keep changing your mind.”

Bending down, he released my ankle from the cuff, rubbing the reddened ring imprint on my flesh. When it started to feel good, I yanked my foot back, and he huffed disapprovingly.

“I don’t know why you resist.”

“Maybe it’s the whole captivity thing,” I offered dryly.

Cosimo sighed and stroked my legs, making me tremble at his touch. Traitorous body. I fucking liked it, and I nearly purred for him when he gently turned me and slipped his hands under the nightgown, working the tense muscles on my back.

“You know that the length of time you spend here is entirely up to you,” he reminded me soothingly. “As soon as I think you’re ready, you can come home with me.”

“It’s just another prison,” I murmured, trying to hold on to the anger, even as his fingers pressed into my tense shoulders.

His fingers curled into me harder, and he grunted when I whimpered. “Aren’t we all prisoners of something? Our minds, other people, the consequences of our actions. We’re all held captive in some way. Be grateful you get a choice.”

“Is that why you’re like this?” I asked carefully, turning my head to meet his eyes. “Did somebody take away your choice?”

His face turned stony. “My future was determined for me long ago. I don’t know whether he saw something in me when I was young or if I was some sick experiment. It makes no difference now.”

“Who?” I cleared my throat, afraid I knew the answer.

“My father,” he answered in a monotone. “You don’t know the meaning of torture, goldilocks. Ettore Neretti was a fucking monster who inflicted pain on as many people as possible while he was alive.”

A voice in the back of my mind told me to shut up, that I didn’t want to know, but I silenced it. “How? What did he do to you, Cosimo?”

“You think you can handle it?” he taunted, his long fingers tracing down my spine.

I shivered. “Yes.”

“Are you afraid of the dark, Remi?”

His hands covered my eyes, blocking out the light, and I sucked in a breath. “No.”

“Neither was I,” Cosimo began. “Until my father. He started by locking me in a closet downstairs. If I made noise or cried, he’d leave me there longer, taunting me the entire time. I don’t know when he started it exactly, but I must have been younger than five. It’s one of my earliest memories. Being trapped in that closet that smelled like mothballs and mildew.”

It was the stuff of nightmares, and I could practically see the horror in his eyes as he talked.

“Learning to stay quiet wasn’t enough for him.” Cosimo’s lips curled in disdain. He tapped my temple lightly. “He wanted inside here. That’s when he took me to the cellar at the back of the property. Wet, cold, and infested with spiders and rats. It wasn’t just hours, then. As I got older, it turned to days. He’d throw me in naked, and the spiders would crawl on my skin. His voice was constantly with me, mocking me.”

Cosimo’s voice took on a detached, trancelike quality. “I would crush the spiders. But the rats. They bit whatever skin they could reach. If I fell asleep, they would get me. I couldn’t be silent then. I screamed and cried for my mother, but she couldn’t rescue me from him. So I learned to take care of myself.”

I didn’t want to know, but I asked anyway. “How did you survive?”

“I became the predator.” His hand circled my neck, and I stilled, barely daring to breathe. “I grabbed their wet, furry bodies and twisted their heads until their necks snapped. Again and again. It seemed endless. I later learned that my father had his men add more rats when I’d killed them.”

“That’s horrific,” I whispered.

“It was my reality.” Cosimo’s body pressed against mine, and he lowered his forehead to my hair, breathing in. “After the rats, it was feral cats, then dogs. If I tried to tame them, my father would kill them, anyway.”

His tattooed forearm rested in front of my face, and he took my hand, running it over a myriad of hidden, raised scars. Bites and scratches. “Oh, Cosimo.”

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