Page 32 of Lust and Honor

He’s right. Most of my whores had deadbeat or abusive dads who treated them like trash, planting the idea they were worthless. The things that take root in childhood don’t let go easy.

Carlo keeps going. “The last few times I saw her, when she watched me with my boys, her eyes welled up. She’s starting to get what a father is. She’s a naturally quiet, cautious kid. At this age, she needs to know she’s got a solid protector so she can bloom and shake off her fears.”

My little Carrot’s jealous of Carlo’s boys? I saw her tears once and didn’t give a fuck, but something’s shifted this past week. Just thinking about it now twists my heart into knots.

Brando pulls out his phone with an annoyed groan. “For fuck’s sake, Carlo, enough with the lecture. Just show him the video so he gets the whole picture.”

Carlo shoots Brando a warning tone, but before Brando can pull the phone back, I snatch it from him. I hit play, and my soul damn near leaves my body.

There’s little Carrot in a purple dress, spinning around the goddamn stripper pole in my house, singing a childish tune. Seconds later, Ava rushes in, scoops her up, and carries her off as Brando’s laughter fills the background.

I grip the phone so hard my hand aches. Alarms blare in my head, and my vision goes red. Hell will freeze over before I let my daughter end up like that.

Carlo mutters a curse at carefree Brando, then turns to me. His voice stays calm and steady. “If they’re yours, go claim them.”

I hurl the phone onto the table and bolt for the door. As I go, I hear Brando crowing to Carlo, “And you said I don’t know him better than you.”

Nine

Ava

I pull the blanket over Aurora and tuck a few pillows around her so she doesn’t roll off the bed in her sleep. Nothing in this house is made for a child, and since I don’t plan on staying here long, I haven’t bothered pushing for the essentials.

Sure, I might’ve gone along with Carlo’s insane plans on the surface, but I’m just biding my time, waiting for the right moment to grab my daughter and get the hell out of here. I won’t deny he’s right about the danger I’m in.

That’s why I’ve decided to leave this country altogether and run to England. My mom was Irish, so I’m fluent in English, and with the savings I’ve built over the years, I can cover expenses for a few months until I land a new job.

I kiss Aurora’s soft, sweet-smelling skin and whisper, “Mama’s always watching over you, my love.”

A loud, persistent banging pulls me out of my thoughts. I follow the noise downstairs and find a muscled guy, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, swinging a sledgehammer at the stripper stage in the living room. My eyes catch the roaring tiger tattoo on his wrist, and I know him instantly—Maxim.

One of the circular glass platforms is completely smashed. Maxim pauses to catch his breath, his chest rising and falling heavily, sweat dripping down his face. He’s heading to the other platform when he sees me. For a moment, he freezes, then a rage so fierce fills his face that he looks like a tiger ready to pounce.

Gripping the heavy sledgehammer, he storms toward me with long strides, his voice booming with mockery. “Well, look who’s here. Her Royal Highness Ava Wilson, the lying, useless mother and kid-stealing bitch.”

The rage pouring off him leaves no doubt. If he gets his hands on me, I’m dead meat. I bolt to the other side of the room, and he throws the sledgehammer aside, chasing after me. I reach the intact circular stage and start running around it to keep him at bay.

He slows his pace, stalking me like a lion toying with its prey, and I snap, “The liars and thieves are you and your boss. I thought you were just some sleazy asshole making money off desperate women, but you’re a full-blown mafia criminal.”

He circles the stage, flashing a wicked smirk, his voice thick with menace. “Oh, my wild Strawberry, you have no fucking clue who I am. But you will. I’m going to teach you what lying and hiding gets you in my world.”

He lunges for me again, and I scream, picking up my speed. “How many times do I have to say I’m sorry for lying to Carlo? Look, I never imagined Nico would pull something like that.”

He stops, sneering again. “If Carlo wanted to punish you for the shit you pulled, you’d be rotting in a dumpster with your throat slit by now. You keep dodging death because I’ve got your back, and what do you do? You fuck me, get pregnant, and hide my fucking kid from me.”

I stop too, panting hard. “You raped me. What makes you think you deserve to be a father when you build your filthy world by exploiting helpless women?”

His eyes widen at my words, his skin flushing red. With a swift, agile leap that seems impossible for his massive frame, he jumps onto the stage and closes the distance before I can make a break for it. He traps me, pinning me down. I try to fight back, but holding me is like crushing a sparrow in his fist. He grabs both my arms, squeezing so hard I whimper.

Leaning close to my face, he hisses, “I mistook you for a whore, but you didn’t open your big mouth to tell me I was wrong.”

He exhales sharply in my face and raises his voice. “If you ever dare throw that kind of accusation at me again, I’ll show you what rape really means, you’ll be waddling for a month.”

His face is so terrifying I’m scared he’ll choke me right then and there. In a desperate move, I jerk my knee up and slam it between his legs. He lets out a loud yell, flinging me to the side. The force sends me crashing to the floor, my head smacking the edge of the platform.

I pull myself together quick, half-rising, when I hear his voice, half in pain, half thrilled.

Bent over and holding his crotch, he snarls, “I’m going to fucking wreck you tonight.”