"I knew she had gotten hurt, but I had no idea..."
London bobs her head up and down. "Pretty sure she was kidnapped, tortured, stabbed, shot, assaulted."
My heart aches for what June went through, and if I had to put myself in her shoes, I suppose I understand why she would want to keep that from me. Still, it doesn't make it hurt any less that she didn't think she could trust me with that information.
London barely knows me and is willing to tell me anything I ask her, why couldn't June do the same?
"She didn't tell you any of this?" London drinks the rest of her whiskey and wipes her mouth.
"No, not really."
The door to the room flies open and Ricardo walks in, my heart almost lurching out of my chest at his sudden arrival. The liquor in my stomach does nothing to calm my nerves as he barges into the room and grabs London by the arm and yanks her up. "Out, now!"
"Unhand me, Daddy," she cries out and yanks herself free of him.
But Ricardo doesn't care for her reaction and hits her across the face, knocking her onto the floor and sending a lamp falling off the side table.
I rush around him and reach for her as her eyes well with tears, her hands clutching the side of her head where it hit the corner of the table. She pulls them away, blood coating her fingertips.
"Don't you dare fucking touch her." Ricardo latches onto my hand and rips me backward, a popping sound rattling from my arm and pain shooting in its wake.
I fall back onto the couch and choke down a sob. I came here to model some clothes for him, not watch him assault me and his daughter.
London scrambles to her feet and wipes her cheek. "I'm sorry, Daddy, I..."
He points to the spot on the couch next to me. "Sit your ass down now and let me make something very clear to you." Ricardo coughs and hacks and spittle flies out of his mouth. He narrows his gaze at each of us. "You two arenotfriends. Do you hear me? You will noteverbe friends. If I so much as think there is a friendship brewing between you, I will throw you in the cellar with a knife and make you fight to the death. I don't give a fuck who wins. Do you fucking hear me?"
London nods aggressively. "Yes, Daddy."
I chew at the inside of my lip and think about all the ways I'd love to end his life. I'd rip off my fucking arm and beat him to death with it if I thought it were possible.
Ricardo grabs my chin and squeezes it, his fingernails digging into my flesh. "Do you fucking hear me, or do you need me to make it more clear to you? I am in charge. I will bend you over this couch and fuck you right here if that's what it takes to make you understand."
"I understand," I say through the pressure he holds on my face.
"Good." He shoves me, and my hand moves from holding onto my injured arm to my chin. Both firing bouts of agony through me in different ways.
I don't mean to, but I cry, silently, and look over at London to find her doing the same thing.
Ricardo's phone rings and he answers it immediately. "What do you want?" The expression on his disgusting face darkens. "What do you mean he's outside? What does he want?" He hangs up and points between us. "You stay here and don't say a fucking word."
The second he disappears, I turn toward London. "Are you okay?"
She shakes her head but says. "I'm fine." London blinks and it's like she rises from whatever fog was covering her vision. "Are you?"
"Yeah," I lie and motion toward her head. "Let me see that."
London turns in my direction, the blood soaking and blending into her red hair.
"You should probably get that looked at. You might need stitches," I tell her. I'm no doctor but the gash looks deep enough to need something more than a measly Band-Aid.
"Your shoulder." London points at my arm laying limp at my side with my other arm holding onto it.
"It's fine, no big deal." I force a smile even though I'm pretty damn sure it's dislocated. Every time I attempt to move it, a sharp pain shoots through me.
"Where is she?" A distant voice yells and a door slams. "Where. The. Fuck. Is. She?"
My breath shudders and I inch toward London as if together, we could conquer anything. When in reality, as long as we're in this house, neither one of us will be safe.
