Arranged love

She licks her lips nervously, but it just makes me hard imagining throwing her to the floor right here and fucking her. I bet she’s not even a virgin. Who still is at twenty these days? Especially in a family like the Bianchis. Her father probably sold her to the highest bidder when she was twelve. That’s how those sick fuckers work.

“You’re very beautiful,” I say honestly. No reason to lie to her. She won’t remember much when she wakes up tomorrow anyway. I grip her hair tighter.

She bares her straight white teeth and looks me in the eyes, spitting out, “And you’re a sorry piece of shit.”

My free hand comes up and wraps around her neck. Her eyes go wide when I squeeze the delicate skin on either side. I don’t say anything. Instead, I just watch her. Hating what I have to do to her. It’s not her fault. She’s a victim of the life she was born into. But this is part of the plan. Her arms fly aimlessly. Her fists hit my chest and arms. She doesn’t have the space to really get the momentum to hurt me. Not like she could even if she wanted to.

Her parted lips are starting to turn blue. She could lose consciousness within ten seconds. Five minutes without oxygen for her body to shut down completely. She makes a noise, trying to get in air. Her silvery-blue eyes are drowning in tears that run down her bruised cheeks.

“So pretty,” I whisper, watching the life drain out of her.

What would John Bianchi do if I left her corpse on his front door? Exactly like this? With my handprints covering her neck. He wouldn’t even care. He allowed her to be sold. But what about Luca? I’d betray him. And Mia? She would be collateral damage-a price to pay that was never her debt to owe.

Her arms fall to her sides, and her body goes slack just as the car comes to a stop. I watch her pretty eyes roll back in her head, and I let her go.

Her petite body falls to the floor at my feet. Her silky tan skin is red with irritation from my hand. She coughs while her body shakes uncontrollably before she begins to cry.

I snort. She’s so fragile, like a delicate flower that would be ripped apart by a breeze.

The Bianchi family-John and his brother, Marco, raised their sons to fight the fucking world. How to kill with a knife, a gun, or a fist. But all they teach their women to do is lie down and spread their legs. And to work in the kitchen.

My door opens, and I reach down, grabbing her thick hair and yanking her out of the car.Published by Nôv'elD/rama.Org.

MIA

I CAN’T BREATHE. My face pounds like a drum. Blood rushes in my ears. Saliva fills my mouth and runs out of the corners of my busted lips. I can’t swallow. My throat is too sore. Raw.

He drags me into a house and up a set of stairs by my hair. I try to keep up, but my legs won’t work. So I let him do all the work. I barely feel the sting on my scalp. He shoves me through a door, and I fall flat on my face. My body convulses while I continue to cough.

He leaves me there, and I watch his shiny black shoes walk away from me. I hear the clanking of glass and then ice. He kneels before me, and I look up at him through watery eyes.

“Drink this.” He shoves a small glass full of amber liquid in my face. The strong odor smells of bourbon. It’s my brother Luca’s favorite drink. I’ve never had a drink of alcohol in my life. I’m not about to start now.

When I turn my face away from him, he holds my chin with his free hand and tips the glass to my lips, forcing me to drink it. It invades my mouth and chokes me. I cough, causing some to drip down the corners of my mouth and onto my chest and dress. But he doesn’t let up. He forces me to drink all of it. When he pulls it away and lets go, I bow my head, coughing and gasping for air.

Tears burn my eyes, and I begin to sob. I don’t consider myself that fragile, but at this rate, I’ll be dead by tomorrow.

I blink the fresh tears away and close my eyes. The room begins to spin. “What …” My voice is scratchy, and I cringe from the soreness when I speak. I swallow. “I …” My tongue feels heavy. I open my eyes, and I see a man standing over in the corner that I’ve never seen before. The guy from the limo kneels before me once again. He looks at me with no emotion. I can’t hold myself up on my hands anymore. I go to fall, but his hands go underneath me, and he lowers me flat to the hardwood floor. I blink up at him slowly. Everything is heavy. I look around aimlessly, but all I see are blurry shapes. “What … happ … ened?” I’ve never been drunk, but this doesn’t feel right.

I feel his hand cup my bruised cheek and lean into it, a moan escaping my lips at how warm it feels while my body shakes on the cold floor.

His blue eyes are the last thing I see before everything goes black.

BONES

HER EYES FALL shut, and I bend down, pick her up in my arms, and lay her on the leather couch. I turn to face a good friend of mine who lives in New York-Tristan Decker-who stands in the corner. “That worked fast,” I observe.

He nods. “Told you it would do the trick.” He walks over to her sleeping body and runs his hand over her bruised neck before looking back at me. “Playing a part?”

“Something like that.” I shove my hands through my hair. I’m not abusive toward women. Do I like rough sex? Yes. But I have never just hauled off and hit a woman or choked one who didn’t ask me to do it while we were fucking. I hate that I had to hurt her and make her fear me.

He slaps my shoulder. “Don’t get too worked up over it.” His eyes fall back down on her. “A pretty woman like her, she wouldn’t have lasted a week in someone’s cage.”