“Done!” Eva announces, setting the curling iron down on the dressing table next to me. “Thank you, sis.”
My first Friday night out on the town in god knows how long. I’ve gone for a glittery gold eyeshadow which pops against my dark eyes and olive complexion and my favorite deep red lipstick.
Since Luca’s engagement party, we’ve spoken a few times over text. I hashed it out with Dr. Jenkins. I even told her about the kiss. Although she said it was clear that me and Luca have a deep emotional connection, that holding on to that would only curb my progress. Which made me realize I need to start doing more things for myself, like focusing on my new career.
I just can’t seem to let him go, though. He is my new addiction, and I fear he always will be.
I thought I was doing pretty good with moving on and distracting myself. But, one look and I’m back to square one. Him invading my every thought. Between that and the texts, even if they are ‘friendly’, I can’t turn my brain off.
I want him, plain and simple. My heart craves him more than alcohol right now.
I look over my new hair and make-up in the mirror and, damn, it’s the best I’ve looked in years. My skin is glowing, my hair is shining. I look less skinny and drawn and more fit. I think I have the long walk to the college campus and my evening yoga sessions to thank for that.
Eva gives me a sweet smile and hands me my Chanel perfume. “It’s nice seeing you happy. I was worried about you after the engagement party. Are you ever going to tell me what happened with Luca outside?”
I shake my head. “It’s done. Over. I need to move on. He’s healed me in ways no one could ever fully understand. I need to use that to rebuild.”
I brush her off with a half-truth. I have this funny feeling that he and I are way past being done.
“You never know, looking this smokin’, you’ll have tons of men lining up for you tonight,” she giggles.
“Maybe.” I shrug, heading for the door.
Perhaps there is another Luca out there for me. I’ve found it once, maybe I can find it again.
“Text me when you are on your way home.” She blows me a kiss as I make my way out of my bedroom and towards the front door.
“Will do, love you.”
The club is packed. Rock music is pounding through the speakers. I push my way through the jostling and grinding crowd. How did this used to be my life? I jump as my ass is groped and pick up the pace.
My two best friends, Jas and Liv, texted to say they had a booth at the back of the club. I hesitate before going over–-they still don’t know I’m not drinking. I can’t help but worry that they will be disappointed that their ‘fun’ friend is gone. I was always the wild one of the group, dancing on the bar and throwing shots down my throat.
But I can’t let anyone take this away from me. My mind has never been clearer, my skin brighter. I don’t even wake in the night with flashbacks of Dante.
Luca has replaced every kiss, every touch, every thrust, with a new memory. Now that’s all that replays in my head rather than that traumatic night.
Shaking myself from my thoughts, I spot Jas and Liv in deep conversation at the table. Two guys I don’t recognize, definitely of Italian descent, are sitting on either side of them. They’re watching me intently as I make my way over.
Liv and Jas attract men wherever they go. They’re rich and beautiful and the life of the party. Always. They were the perfect distraction for me.
My friend’s eyes snap to mine and smiles light up their faces. “Omg Rosa!! You look stunning! We missed you so much!”
Liv ushers her new man friend out of the way. He stands, letting her slide past so she can barrel into me, wrapping me in a tight squeeze. Jas follows close behind and pulls us both together in a hug.
“Okay, okay! I can’t breathe, guys!” I giggle. “I missed you both, too!”
They think that I went to Italy after I left Luca. I didn’t reach out to tell them I was home. I didn’t trust myself going back into their lifestyle. I wasn’t ready.
“You have to meet our new friends, Rico and Danny.” Liv excitedly points her manicured finger to the two guys sitting in the booth.
“They have a friend joining in a sec.” Jas winks at me.
God, no. A shiver runs down my spine, and I laugh awkwardly as Liv grabs my hand and drags me towards the table. I slide into the booth behind her.
“Hi.” I give the guys a wave.
“Hey,” they both grunt back.
They look familiar, but I can’t put my finger on why. It’s probably the fact they look quite Italian. Most of my dad’s guys did.
“Rosa, what are you having to drink? Vodka?” Jas asks.
“Just a soda and lime, please.” I flash her a tight smile, hoping she leaves it.
“God, you’re not pregnant, are you?” she gasps.
I spot the two guys shooting each other a look.
Shaking my head, I chuckle. “No, I’m just taking a break for a bit.”
Jas raises a brow at my words. I brace myself for another ‘you’re so boring’ lecture. But it doesn’t come.
“Oh my god, were you in rehab?”
I nod. It’s a hell of a lot easier than explaining I was kidnapped and fell for my kidnapper and got clean in that time.
“We were worried about you. So, hell, if drinking is off the table, we will join you.” She shoots a look at Liv. “Won’t we?”
Liv splutters on her champagne, placing it down on the table. “Yep. Just after this one.”
“It’s fine. I can be around alcohol. I’m not that bad. I just need a time out.”
I want to be able to enjoy a drink without having to black out and forget. Until I fix my mind, that isn’t happening.
“I’ll go get them, it’s okay! What are you all having?”
The group rattle off their orders, and I head to the bar. Tapping my Amex on the counter, I scan the room. Everyone is dancing and laughing. It’s funny, when I’m drinking, it makes everyone look like they’re having the time of their lives. When, deep down, I wonder how many are chasing away their own demons?
A man clearing his throat behind me catches my attention. I spin around. “Sorry, am I in your wa–”
All the oxygen is sucked from my lungs as I come face to face with him. His amber eyes eat me up, his lips turned up into a sleazy smirk. That scar that runs along his left cheek. The face that haunts me.
Dante. My abuser. My rapist. My nightmare.
My heart begins beating at a thunderous pace as I back up into the bar.
“No, no, no. This can’t be happening.” My voice quivers.
“Is that how you’re going to greet me? After all these years, my Rosa.” His deep Italian voice brings bile to my throat. Even now, after six years.
“Get away from me, Dante,” I spit out while fighting back tears. I have to get away from him. Spotting an exit to my left, I make a dart for it.
Pain radiates up my arm as he grabs hold of my wrist and squeezes. Pulling me roughly against his chest, he wraps me tightly with his muscular arms until I can barely breathe.
“Baby girl. There’s no escaping me this time,” he grits out with venom in his tone. “I missed you so much, Rosa.”
This can’t be happening. The room starts to spin as he brings his mouth to my ear. I hold my breath, too afraid to move.
“I can’t wait to have you all to myself. God–” he sucks in a breath. “You smell just as pure as when I had you last.”
Before I can respond, he grabs me by the waist and lifts me into his arms.
“HELP, SOMEBODY!” I scream, hitting his chest, which vibrates against me as he laughs.
“Ignore her. My fiancé is just drunk. I’m taking her home.”
I hear another guy chuckle, and he swiftly carries me to the exit.
“Baby girl, everything is going to be okay. I came back for you, just like I always promised,” he whispers as we get outside, the freezing air hitting my sensitive skin.
Hot tears stream down my face. I can’t move. I can barely breathe.
I hear the clicking of the car and the door opening. He bends and slides me into the passenger seat. I squeeze my eyes closed as he leans over me and buckles me in.
“Don’t you dare fucking move, Rosa. You know what happens if you disobey me.” He smirks, and I’m back to being the naïve seventeen-year-old again. The one who was too scared to say no to him. I know what he’s capable of. So I do as he says.
He doesn’t take his dark eyes off me as he circles the front of the car and slips into the driver’s seat.
“Time to take you to our new home, Rosa. We can finally have our forever.”
My head whips around to face him.
“What do you mean?” I look down at my trembling hands as his huge fingers lace through mine.
“It’s all been agreed with your uncle. We’re getting married in two months. You’ll finally be mine.” A wide grin lights up his face.
“Uncle Frankie would never–”
I stop myself. Dad banished Frankie before it came to light about Dante. Which means Frankie doesn’t know anything about what this monster did to me.
“I don’t want to marry you.” I don’t know where my bravery comes from, but the words fly out of my mouth.
“It doesn’t matter what you want. The deal’s been made and I suggest you get on board. That is, unless you want me to take precious Eva instead. I hear she’s still pure. I bet she would feel even better–”
“No!” I cut him off. I can’t hear it.
He’s not taking my baby sister. Not her. Terrifying images of him doing to her what he did to me flash through my mind. Fear surges through me. His malicious laugh fills the car. The same sound that plagued my sleep for the last six years.
“Always protecting her, aren’t you? I stopped by your house earlier. She’s definitely aged well–the perfect woman.”
I swallow the bile rising up my throat, shaking my head.
“Well, it’s settled, then. Here’s to our forever, baby girl,” he says, turning on the ignition.
His hand settles on my thigh, and he squeezes. His touch burns my flesh. Tears fall down my cheeks. I focus on my breathing, just like Dr. Jenkins taught me.
“I made Frankie a promise to protect you. I love you, Rosa. I’ve loved you since the day I started working for your dad. So, I want to win over your heart. I want to do this the right way this time. But, remember, if you don’t catch on quickly, poor little baby Eva will pay the price.”
I turn to face him, anger bubbling inside.
“And this is how you think you’ll win me over?” I spit out, unsure of this confidence.
“In time, Rosa, you’ll learn to love me. You have to if you want to keep Eva alive. I’m prepared to wait. As long as you behave, that is.”
He gives me a warning look and tightens his grip on my leg. Pain radiates from the bruising force of his fingers.
“You’re hurting me,” I whisper.
He releases his hand quickly. My eyes zone in on the angry red marks now on my skin. The first of many, I assume. Men like him don’t change, they can’t.
