Page 52 of Leave Me (Touch of Death 2)
His lips brush over mine, and his tongue flicks out, caressing my cheek. His hand trails down my body before he shoves it down my pajama shorts. My indifference wavers, but I cling to it, snatching it around me like a blanket. He rams two fingers inside me, and though I was ready for it, nothing could truly prepare me for the instant degradation, the sheer violation. To be so utterly stripped of humanity in a single moment is terrifying. I close my eyes, and a tear breaks free, tracking down my temple.
His hand shifts from my neck to my face, digging hard into my cheeks. “Look at me!” He roars.
I slowly open my eyes, obliging the monster in front of me.
“I can do much, much worse things to this tight little body of yours, Adelina.” He purrs my name in a way that makes me sick. He thrusts his fingers even harder, and then he pulls back, retracting his hand from my shorts. An ugly smile cuts across his face, all mashed teeth. “And then, when I have broken you so absolutely, I will still find Gabriella, and I will kill her in front of you.”
He shoves away from me, leaving me there on the ground, taking a little more of my dignity and fight with him when he exits the room.
As the copper rays of dawn creep across the sky, I drag myself from the bed and get in the shower. I vow that today will be different. Today will be the day that I take back control. I’ve realized something in the last few weeks. I came to Enrique, hoping to buy his trust, for him to see me as an equal and allow me close, but I see now, he doesn’t want an equal. He wants this—what I’ve become—a scared, broken girl who he can abuse. Right now, I am that girl, but I can’t keep being her. I have to remember what brought me here, remember what I’m fighting for. That fight was reignited last night because I know that Gabriella may be safe for now, but if I don’t do something, he will kill her.
I wash my hair and dry it, making sure the long strands are smooth and shiny. As I look in the bathroom mirror, I study the tired-looking girl that stares back at me. I have no makeup, so there’s little I can do about the heavy purple marks that linger beneath my eyes. I slip into one of the many cotton sundresses in the closet, choosing one that’s on the shorter side. The material dips in the front, showing just a hint of cleavage.
With one last mental pep talk, I leave the room, only to come to a halt. A man stands against the wall right beside my bedroom door. He makes no move to stop my leaving, just…stands. He’s younger, and I’ve never seen him before. Beneath his suit jacket, I see the outline of a gun strapped under his arm. I choose to ignore his presence as much as he ignores mine. But when I move down the hall, he follows. Of course, Enrique would up the security after last night. Sasha made a fool of him, and he thinks I’m somehow involved. I don’t care and simply keep walking through the house.
Enrique’s men leer at me as I pass them in the hallways, making my way to the only room I really know in the house—his office.
When I reach it, I take several deep breaths, trying to calm my racing heart. My stomach churns violently as I rap my knuckles on the door. I wait for agonizingly long seconds before the door is finally yanked open in front of me. The scarred man from before stands in the doorway; his displeased glare sweeps over my body like a stray, flea-riddled dog.
“I need to talk to Enrique,” I say, squaring my shoulders.
“Let her in,” a drawl comes from somewhere behind him.
Scarface reluctantly steps back, and I move past him and into the room. Enrique sits at his desk casually, watching me approach with a smug smirk. He’s back in his usual suit jacket, looking like his normal, put-together self. It bothers me because only when he’s losing in some way does he look a mess.
“You can go,” he says to his guy, and the door clicks shut, closing me in here with him. “What can I do for you, principessa?”
Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump. “You need to agree not to kill my sister.”
The smirk deepens. “No.”
“Fine. Then I won’t marry you.”
He laughs. “You act as though you have a choice.” Something long-dormant rises in me, and I let it out, closing the distance to his desk. Leaning over, I brace my hands on the wood and look him in the eye. “Without me, your plans aren’t worth shit.”
