Page 34 of Beloved
“What’s necessary, Rafaela. As I already told you. A man needs to be punished and I thought it was something you should see.”
Even before Kazimir was brought from wherever they’d kept him, I’d known exactly who they were preparing to discipline.
I was shaking all over, doing what I could to remain standing. Calling out his name would only result in harsher punishment, but there was no way I could keep the tears from running down my face and I whispered his name.
Over and over again.
Until the handsome stranger who’d saved my baby, a man whose lips were a soft kiss of velvet tipped his head, our eyes locking.
Only for the briefest of seconds, but enough that my heart fluttered.
When Kazimir had been shackled in place, Marco was gleeful as he was handed a bullwhip. A bullwhip.
It took everything I had to keep from jumping off the platform, but I knew better than to do a damn thing. But one day I would.
In those few seconds before the first strike was made, the line my father had laid in the sand had been crossed.
Hate had filled my heart.
One day, my father would be the one to face my wrath.
CHAPTER 9
Kazimir
Rafaela.
Rage tore through me. Not because of what I was about to experience, but because her bastard of a father was requiring her to watch. I’d felt the woman’s presence before catching sight of her. She stood on the platform over me, being forced to witness the bloody punishment doled out by a man who didn’t appreciate my fondness for the master’s daughter.
I’d seen the look in Marco’s eyes, the longing that had likely been there for years. His hatred for me had been nurtured, fueled by her rebellion shown this morning.
She was still defiant, standing on the edge of the crudely made platform, peering down as the princess she was. Only her hands were fisted and in the brief glimpse I’d been offered, the rage in her eyes was clear to see, but there was more than just defiance in her expression.
There was hatred.
An emotion that would carry her forward. I knew the look. I understood the sentiment.
I admired her resolve. At such a young age, she understood when and how best to stand up to her father. Did I give a damn about the upcoming pain? Not a chance in hell.
Marco had laughed as he’d secured my wrists and ankles, leaning in close before he’d walked away. “Brutto porco russo. Vuoi un bavaglio? O preferisci che la principessa sia costretta a sentire i tuoi lamenti? Penso che sarebbe una punizione deliziosa per entrambi.”
You fucking Russian pig. Would you like a gag? Or would you prefer the princess be forced to hear your wails? I think that would be a delicious punishment for both of you.
Obviously, he didn’t believe I could understand what he was saying. I made a point of turning my head to stare into his eyes. He would be the first to face my dagger when I returned to wipe out the estate.
He didn’t wait long, the few people standing around remaining silent.
There was no call to punishment, no pretense that I was being sentenced for some awful deed. At least I’d gotten a good look at her father, a face I’d never forget, yet one I didn’t recognize.
Even before my father had agreed to do any business in Sicily, he’d had his people make a list of those who were considered players in the world of crime syndicates. This man’s face was not included.
Questions lingered.
Marco swaggered closer, cracking the bullwhip against the ground. He was grinning the entire time, grandstanding for not only his master but also the woman who would forever hate him.
If only I could protect her from being afflicted with any horror. But that was impossible.
For now.
