Will it resurrect the nightmares of my past and reopen old wounds at a time when I need to keep my wits about me?
I am juggling far too many balls to let any man derail me like that.
Sleeping with Massimo is a risk I can’t take, no matter how much my body seems to crave his touch. I will have to keep deflecting for as long as I can hold him off.
“Catarina. What is it? What troubles you?” His voice is soft, his expression concerned, as he stares at me, gently threading his fingers in mine. I zoned out, and I have no clue what emotions were playing on my face. This is further proof of how dangerous he is to me. It’s too easy to forget who I am, to lower my shields, when he touches me with his magical hands. He’s observant too, and I know there is much more to him than meets the eye. I can’t drop my guard around him because too much is riding on it. I haven’t come this far to let it all fall apart now.
“Wedding nights don’t hold good memories for me,” I admit before gulping back the last mouthful of my whisky.
He turns deathly still. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Reaching out, I pour two fresh whiskies, handing one to my husband before I settle back against the arm of the couch. “Are you sure you want to hear it?”
He lifts his knees, setting his glass on top of them. “I want to know everything about you, and I have a feeling it is your demons that drive your burning need for power and success.”
He isn’t wrong, and I hate how much of an open book I appear to be to him. But I can feed him snippets. Play on his sympathies. Let him think he is getting to know me and believe he has an understanding of who I am. Lull him into a false sense of security, and then I can strike. “I never want to be beholden to a man ever again. I never want to feel so helpless and trapped that I pray for death to take me.” Shame washes over me as I think of the times in my life where I almost gave up.
“Tell me,” he coaxes, leveling me with a look that suggests I can trust him. “I want to understand and ensure I never do anything that triggers or undermines you.”
ChapterFourteen
Catarina
“Iwas eighteen when I married Paulo. He was forty-five with a protruding beer gut, thinning hair, stained teeth, and an even uglier personality. He made it clear from the start I was only there to service him and to look pretty on his arm. I wasn’t to speak for myself, think for myself, or act for myself.” Pressure settles on my chest as I relive the second worst period of my life. “I fought him the night of our wedding when he tried to fuck me. I didn’t want his disgusting hands or his puny cock anywhere near me.”
I stare at Massimo as I speak, but I’m not really seeing him. I’m back there in that hideous room with the drab dull-green walls, dark wood paneling, and ornate four-poster bed. “I knew self-defense, and he was an unfit, overweight slob, so I successfully managed to hold him at bay.” I grind my teeth to the molars as I recall the terrible events. “Until the spineless prick called out for his bodyguards, and they came to do his bidding.” I take a sip of my scotch, feeling my husband’s gaze on my face as he waits for me to continue. He doesn’t interrupt or tell me I don’t have to talk about it or mollycoddle me, and I respect that.
Drawing a long breath, I fix my eyes on Massimo’s intoxicating green ones as I explain what happened. I numb my emotions, like I have trained myself to do, speaking in a cold, clinical voice. “On Paulo’s orders, they ripped my wedding dress from my body and tied me naked to the four posts of the bed. They took turns raping me while he watched and jerked off. I screamed at first, only to draw attention and get help.”
I learned a harsh lesson as a young teen about sick predators who get off on hurting others—theyloveit when you scream. It only gets them harder.
I force thoughts of Carlo aside, refocusing on my story. “Paulo’s family were all staying in the house the night of the wedding. While they hadn’t been kind to me, I still held out hope they would stop it.”
Massimo tops off both our glasses, listening intently as I go on.
“Francesca Conti, Paulo’s mother, barged into the room, and for a fleeting second, I thought she’d save me.” I drink a healthy mouthful of my whisky, relishing the burn as it glides down my throat. I bark out a bitter laugh. “She saw what was happening. She knew I was only eighteen and I was being taken against my will, but she didn’t care. She only cared I was keeping them all from their sleep. She told Paulo to shut me up before leaving. He stuffed a soiled handkerchief in my mouth, and they spent the rest of the night violating me repeatedly.”
Pain tightens my chest, like it does anytime I think about the things that were done to me. “Paulo sodomized me while his men cheered and took photos.” I squeeze my eyes shut as the memory of my wedding night surges to the forefront of my mind. It wasn’t the first time a monster had sodomized me, and it brought horrific memories to the surface. I remembered the pain Carlo inflicted on me when he tore through my virgin ass at thirteen. That night with Paulo was like being assaulted by two different men at the same time, and it only added to my torment.
Even now, imaginary pain seizes my body, rippling through every part of me, reminding me why I never speak about these things. I don’t think I will ever forget the specific details of the torture and abuse I was subjected to at the hands of men. At the hands of my first husband.
And what Paulo did to me is the lesser of the evils done to me.
Massimo plucks my hands from where they are digging into my thighs through my nightie, gently unfurling them and massaging each stiff finger. I wasn’t even aware I was doing it. “He never violated me vaginally,” I continue. “It was always anally. I only found out later he preferred young pussy and ass. When I think of what he did to me and I think about him doing that to young boys and girls, some as young as five, I want to dig him up and kill him all over again.”
“He was a sick bastard.” Massimo strokes his thumbs across the top of my hands. “I am sorry for what you endured.”
I shake my mind free of the past, grateful to leave it there. The icy feeling wracking my body slowly dissipates as Massimo holds my hands, stroking my flesh and injecting warmth into my cold bones.
“It stopped when I was twenty-two and I gained the upper hand. I discovered the true extent of his sickness and gathered enough evidence to use it to blackmail him. But I knew it wasn’t enough to take him down. Not with the connections the Contis had. They had local police and judges in their pockets. I worked diligently for years to gather more evidence, take over running his business, turn loyalty to me, and develop my own relationships with authority figures so I could take him down.” Tears prick my eyes as I eyeball my husband. “I threatened Paulo in the hope it would slow him down, but he found ways to evade me. I knew he was still abusing children, and it killed me to let him live.”
“But you had to time it correctly so he would go down and you wouldn’t take the fall.” Empathy and understanding splay across Massimo’s face.
I nod. “It took me seven years, and every single night of those seven years I hated myself for not being able to completely stop it. I felt culpable and so powerless. I wanted to help those children, but I couldn’t.”
Emotion grips his face as he threads his fingers in mine. He nods slowly. “I know what it’s like to be forced to stand by and witness injustice knowing you can’t do anything about it. I know what that feeling of powerlessness is like.”
I’m guessing he’s talking about his mother. Anyone can see she’s deeply traumatized. But I have zero sympathy for Eleanora Greco. I hope she dies buried under the memories of her failings and that she spends the rest of her days rotting in hell for the part she played in the horrors that took place in that house.
