“Mr. Rossi, is there something you want to ask…?”
A beat. “You think something about you interests me?”
The words come before I can think. “My dancing.”
“Your dancing?”
I shake my head, tears prickling at my eyes. “You… watch me dance. You always have.”
Adriano’s huge, tattooed hand drifts toward his gun and he eases it from its holster. My insides flicker like water and I fight not to scream.
He takes a step toward the bars, swallowing the ground between us. “I watch you dance?”
“Yes. I mean no. Never.”
He points the barrel at me. “You thinkanythingabout you is interesting?”
“No, of course not.”
“You’re right. The most interesting thing you could do for me is die.”
“No.” The whisper forces its way past my lips. I press my trembling hands to my mouth. The gun hole stares at me.
“No?” Adriano repeats. “You don’t want to die?”
Death is so close I can taste it, cold metal with an edge of relief—the taste ofhisgun in my mouth. I screw my eyes shut and say goodbye to Zia Teresa and Margot, to Lachlan and Penelope and—
“Kneel.”
I open my eyes. “P-Pardon?”
“Get up on your knees.”
Adrenaline pulses through me like rusty nails. Is this what executioners make you do? I push myself into a kneeling position and try not to stare at his heavy canvas pants. There is something besides killing me that could be done while I’m on my knees. Is that what he wants? I don’t know what to hope for.
“Open your mouth.”
My jaw drops before my soul can protest.
Adriano’s lips twist. “You little whore.” His tattooed hand moves to his zipper and my heart thumps so hard I taste blood. I’m going to see a man for the first time. Taste him. Unless I pass out before it even starts and then he shoots me.
Cold drops into my cleavage. Adriano is rubbing the gun barrel against my breasts.
“The others think you’re innocent.” His voice rumbles in the dark, deep and inhuman. What was the bull-man from Greek Mythology called?
The gun comes back up my collarbone, the metal warmed from my body heat. My jaw is aching from being open and my tongue feels furry with fear. I don’t want to give him a blowjob, but I wish anything else was happening.
“Are you a good little whore?”
Should I agree? Disagree? I decide to go with the truth. “No?”
He presses the barrel hard against my temple. “Did I tell you to close your mouth?”
I’m petrified, but I still know that was a dirty trick. My breath catches and though I want to beg I know it won’t work. Nothing will. I let my jaw hang.
He grips the side of my neck. “That’s it, little whore. Now suck.”
A split second of panic before he slides his gun into my mouth. I try to pull away, but his big hand claps the back of my head, holding me in place.
