ONE
Emily
It happened when I was sixteen. Jill, my best friend, and I thought it would be fun to ditch our parents and hit a bar instead of attending a boring birthday party. With fake IDs, we figured we’d have a few shots, shaking our hips a bit and enjoying the night.
But we chose the wrong bar. A few drinks later, I was completely dazed, and Jill, emboldened by the drinks, lashed out at a man who’d been ogling her all night. Things got worse, especially after he asked her to dance, which led to quite a scene.
The man’s hulking frame strained against his T-shirt, his massive muscles bulging as intricate, menacing tattoos snaked across every visible inch of his skin. He shot Jill a venomous glare as the bouncers hauled him toward the door. That seething look promised one thing: revenge.
He got his revenge that same night. When we left the bar, he ambushed us in a dark alley, tied me up, and while shouting in a strange language, he raped her. I failed to understand his words, but I will always remember his voice.
Strangely, Jill remembered nothing the next day. Aside from a few bumps and bruises, she was perfectly fine, inside and out. But I wasn’t as lucky as her.
First, I’d never been with a man before, and that night twisted everything I thought I knew about sex. It turned something meant to be intimate into something violent. Something ugly. And second, it got carved into my mind.
A few months later, I lost my parents in a horrible car accident, and for a while, I managed to push the memory aside. But when I turned seventeen and decided to sleep with my boyfriend Frank, the nightmare came rushing back with full force. Frank was an average guy, nothing particularly noteworthy about him.
We fooled around a bit, but when things started getting serious, when he tried to go further, a full-blown panic attack hit me out of nowhere. My body went stiff as a board under Frank’s hands. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t even breathe.
In that moment, it wasn’t Frank on top of me anymore. It was him. That monster. I saw his face again. Heard the guttural grunts, the mix of lust and rage in his voice. I even smelled the stench of alcohol and sweat from that night and it paralyzed me.
Frank never touched me again. I was rushed to the hospital, and after running a series of tests, they slapped a label on me, ‘sex phobia.’
But I wasn’t willing to accept the doctors’ words. Deep down, I believed that when the right man came along, this phobia, or whatever it was, would disappear. And it took exactly eighteen months for Tony to show up.
He was literally every girl’s dream come true. Killer jawline, a fit body, and that hot Italian accent, the guy was walking temptation. And he was aware of it. He knew exactly how to work his looks and charm to make girls fall for him hard.
Of course, Jill kept warning me that this charming, too-perfect man with a whole chain of fancy restaurants in Chicago, was way too good to be true. But the heart wants what it wants.
Tony knew about my phobia. I’d told him myself. I guess it was because I was insecure around him, and saying I was still a virgin was my way of asking him to take things slow.
He was always gentle, always kind... but still, something was off. It seemed like we were two magnets with the same charge. Every time we got too close, something pushed us apart.
The truth is, Tony never really tried to seduce me or get me into his bed. Not that I was totally ready to give in either. Maybe because deep down, I never felt like he actually wanted me.
His kisses were passionate, his vibe totally masculine, but a girl’s intuition never lies. And mine was telling me that Tony wasn’t into me like that.
Something about him didn’t just sit right. Over time, I found myself getting more cautious around him. It wasn’t easy to explain, but I had a feeling he wasn’t who he pretended to be.
I kept hoping time would change things between us. He invited me to his cousin’s wife’s birthday party in Italy. I saw it as a chance to meet his family and get to know him better.
Part of me believed that if I spent more time with him, things would eventually fall into place. That once Itrulyknew Tony, once he had my absolute trust, my body would finally stop resisting.So I agreed to go.
Was that decision naïve? Or fate? Honestly, I still don’t know.
***
So much had happened since I got to the mansion. I was still trying to wrap my head around it all.The moment I stepped inside, it was like walking into a museum. Later, Tony confirmed I wasn’t too far off.The mansion was at least a hundred years old, built by the Bruni family’s ancestors.
That was the second surprise of the day. I also found out Tony had changed his last name after moving to the States, wanting to build his business without riding on the family name. No wonder I found no history about him online.
The place itself was massive. Three floors, huge east and west wings, straight-up impressive from the outside. But inside? Dark. Crammed with antiques and even older and honestly kind of creepy residents. The vibe was so heavy it gave me chills.
My room was in the east wing, with a big balcony facing the west wing. And to my surprise again, Tony had a separate room across the hall from mine, with a view of some lake way out in the distance.
Since no one from the family had greeted us when we arrived, I was to meet them at dinner. I tried to pick something classy to match the mansion’s grace and was dressed and ready by eight... but Tony was nowhere in sight. We were supposed to go to the dining room together.
Where was he?
