I’m sure that Dominic is already looking for me. He’ll come for me. The throbbing in my head is getting worse. Ignoring it, I force myself up. Somehow, I made it to the dresser. Staring at the image in the mirror, I note how horrible I look. That is, in contrast to how satisfied I was with my appearance before leaving the mansion for the club earlier. The hair on theback of my head is matted with dried blood. My face is pale, mascara smudged, and the line of my lips is thin as I try to ignore the agony.
Turning my head, I examined the injury. A swelling is visible with a small laceration at the center. Clenching my teeth, I poke my finger along the edges. Satisfied that it’s not as bad as it looks, I sit down at the end of the bed. And wait.
Sometime later, the door opens suddenly causing me to jump to my feet. An older man walks in followed by the bitch.
He looks so much like my husband—same broad build, black hair, piercing blue eyes. The only difference is the gray creeping at his temples. Dressed in a black pinstriped suit, he greets me with a smile that belongs at a dinner table, not in a prison cell. But beneath that polished facade, I can see it—the malice lurking just out of sight.
“You’re even more beautiful in person. No wonder my nephew—who swore he’d never marry—couldn’t resist you.”
“It should have been me,” the snake sneers, dragging my attention back to her.
“You fucking bitch!” I lunge, my hand cracking across her cheek. She retaliates instantly, yanking my hair. Pain explodes through my skull, stars bursting in my vision as I cry out.
“She’s yanked back. “Stop! You’ve done enough damage already,” he snaps at her. She presses a hand to her cheek, the skin already reddening from my blow. Her smug smile unsettles me.
“That’s right, you whore. Soon you’ll be on your back, and Dominic will be so disgusted he won’t want you anymore. Then he’ll be free to marry me.” Her words drip with madness. She’s unhinged—so far gone that, for a moment, I almost pity her.
“What the hell are you talking about? The only whore I see in this room is you.” Sneering at her. Holding on to my anger to mask my unease. It gives me pleasure to see I’ve hit amark. Her previous smugness was dimmed. Catalina is unable to retaliate right now, in front of the man I assume is my husband’s traitorous uncle.
Oh God, please let Dominic find me quickly. Why does it sound as if the plans they have for me would be awful. “Enough!” He snaps as if he’s dealing with misbehaving children. “We need to get her ready for when Alban Berisha arrives, go get one of the maids to make her presentable.”
Catalina leaves reluctantly to carry out his orders. The moment we are alone, my unease deepens. He studies me in silence, his predatory gaze forcing me to step back, instinctively widening the distance between us. “I’m going to relish watching your husband suffer. And what better way to break him… than through his wife?”
“You’re vile. What kind of man betrays his own blood? Plotting to kill your family—you should choke on the shame.” He sneers, eyes burning. “Your husband stole what was mine. Now I’ll strip him of everything he loves. Starting with his beautiful wife.” He closes the distance, his cologne thick in the air, so sharp it makes my stomach twist.
When he touches my cheek with a finger, my skin crawls. Leaning forward, he gleefully whispers in my ear. “Alban Berisha will enjoy his prize soon. I wouldn’t fight if I were you. You’ll only make things worse for yourself.”
Slapping his hand away. “Fuck off, you bastard!” He laughs mockingly at my false bravado. Clearly seeing through my pretense. “On second thought, I’ll enjoy seeing you try to resist. It’s what you deserve for saving my nephew's life instead of letting him die.”
A sharp knock at the door spares me from answering, the sound cutting through the tension like a blade. The devil’s gaze flickers, and he turns away, retreating with a slow, deliberate step. Only then do I realize I’ve been holding my breath; itescapes in a shaky exhale, my chest tight with relief that his presence is no longer pressing against me.
The door creaks open, and a middle-aged woman steps inside. Her face is unreadable, carved into a mask of indifference. The faint scent of antiseptic clings to her clothes, mingling with the stale air of the room. She doesn’t look at me directly, but her eyes flicker with something—weariness, perhaps, or resignation.
“Get her ready,” he orders, his voice low and commanding, before disappearing through the doorway. The woman lingers for a moment, her hands tightening around the bundle she carries, before moving closer.
“Okay, Miss, we need to get you cleaned up and ready,” she chatters, guiding me down the corridor into a stark bathroom. “The boss likes his women looking elegant. We can’t have you looking like something the cat dragged in.” She keeps talking as she fills the claw-foot tub, her words sharp against the sound of rushing water.
“Undress and get in,” she orders. I freeze, staring at the rising water, unable to move. When she realizes my defiance, her hands claw at my clothing, trying to strip it away. I slap them aside, trembling with resistance. Her voice hardens. “Either you undress now, or I’ll bring one of the guards in here to assist you.”
With no other choice, I strip away my clothes and step into the tub. My teeth clench as the witch tilts a basin, water cascading over my head. It strikes my scalp like fire. As she works her fingers through my hair, matted with blood, the water runs crimson. I squeeze my eyes shut, fighting the dizziness, willing myself not to collapse into the red-stained bath.
Chapter 40
~Dominic~
My arms were numb, shoulders aching from being slammed against the trunk’s sides. At last, the vehicle has lurched to a stop. If those bastards think they’ll get away with this, they’re dead wrong. My men should already be in position.
I just pray Elle is safe.
Doors slammed, footsteps are closing in. Rage burned in me, but I held it back—Elle’s safety came first. The trunk opened, hands yanked me out and I hit the ground hard. Their laughter stoked my fury. A kick to the ribs forced a grunt from me as I rolled away.
“Get up, Vitelli.” They hauled me upright, arms locked on my shoulders, keeping me from collapsing. Blindfolded, I stumbled forward, guided by their rough grip. The echo of footsteps on tile told me we were inside now. Finally, they shoved me down. Pain shot through my arms as the chair’s backrest slammed against them.
I react instinctively. Despite my resolve to stay calm, my instinct has me kicking out my legs and making contact with one of the bastards in front of me. The momentum throws me backwards. The chair I was pushed into tumbles, and I’m thrown out of it onto the hard floor.
They are on me in no time kicking and punching as I curl into a ball to protect myself from their blows. Cursing as they subdue me again. I suppress the pain of each contact. They're finally able to force me back into the chair. This time securing my arms and legs to it.
My blind fold is yanked away. The sudden glare blinded me, vision swimming after so long in darkness. I blinked rapidly,forcing my eyes to adjust. Slowly, the haze lifted—like a film peeled away—until the world came back into focus.
