TAKEN

CHAPTER 15

“It’s rude to barge into someone’s office like that, Helena.”

“I don’t much care about rude.”

“No, you don’t. How much did you drink?”

“Not enough. Why? Why did you tell me?”

“You asked, remember? And I warned you that you may not like what you hear.”

“Is it to isolate me even more? Make sure I know I can’t go home?”

“Watch your tone, Helena.”

“Don’t you mean Willow Girl? Watch your tone, Willow Girl?”

He steps closer so the tips of his shoes are touching my bare toes. He tucks a finger beneath my chin, tilts it up and leans in close.

“If that’s how you want it, then watch your tone, Willow Girl.”

The low timbre of his voice is more warning than his words, and it takes all I have not to back off.

“Just tell me why. You owe me that much at least.”

He steps back, giving me space tobreathe.

“I thought you should know the stock you come from. And just to clarify, I don’t owe you anything.”

I ignore that last part.

“Well, don’t you come from it too, considering you’re descended from Anabelle Scafoni’s son? Does that make us family? Cousins or something?” I don’t know why I say it, it’s so far in the past and so diluted, that it doesn’t matter.

He grins, touches his middle finger to my collarbone, traces it to the hollow at my throat, up over it to my lips, presses until I open. When I close my teeth around the digit, he uses his finger like a hook and drags my face to his so we’re nose to nose.

“You have got such a big mouth, you know that, Willow Girl?”

I reach into my pocket, feel the weight of the switchblade in it, pull it out.

He must hear it open. It’s the only way he can react so quickly. The only way he can catch my hand before I can sink the little dagger into his gut.

I pull back to look down. He does the same. We watch the little drop of red stain the white of his dress shirt. He doesn’t pull the blade back, though. He holds it there instead, even forces it a little, ripping his shirt, slicing his own flesh.

“Stop.” There’s a quiver in my voice. I try to pull my hand away, but he won’t let me.

“Is that my notch?” he asks when he looks back up at me, holding my gaze ashe relieves me of my weapon. I hear the clank of it when it hits the far wall. Before I can step back, his hand closes around my throat and he leans me backward over his desk, the angle painful.

One of my hands wraps around his forearm while the other one grips the edge of the desk to keep him from breaking my back.

“Do you know what would happen to you if you’d succeeded just now? What did I explain earlier?”

I know what he’s talking about. That if he didn’t do this, didn’t take me, then his brother would or his brother after that.

“Let me go,” I say.

His eyes are dark, black in the light, and I watch as he touches his wound with his fingers before bringing them to my thigh and smearing blood upward, pushing my underwear aside to rub it on my p***y, rub it inside me.

“You’re always wet for me,” he says before switching his grip to the back of my neck and kissing me hard, as hard as he’s rubbing me. He breaks the kiss and watches me, and I hear him undo his jeans. He steps backward and pushed me to my knees.

I know what he wants.

He collects a fistful of my hair and grins. “Open up. I’m going to teach that big mouth a lesson.”

I look up at him, try to pull back, but I can’t.

He draws me up a little, painfully by my hair, and brings his face to mine. “Ifyou bite, I’ll whip you until I open your back, understand?” He squeezes that fistful of hair when I don’t answer. “Do. You. Understand?”

“Yes!”

“That’s a good Willow Girl. Now keep your eyes on mine, and open wide.”

He doesn’t even give me a minute to do it but pinches my nose closed, forcing my mouth open.

His c**k is thick, hard, and ready. Precum tastes salty on my tongue as he moves me the way he wants, shallow at first, taking his time, watching me take him.

“First time?”

I don’t say anything. I can’t speak.

“Suck,” he says as he pushes in deeper, and I do. I suck on his c**k as he feeds it to me, deeper and deeper, tears forming at the corners of my eyes either from his hand fisting my hair too hard or from being choked on his c**k. My voice, any words, are gargled as he hits the back of my throat and holds there for a moment, letting out a deep moan.

I push on his thighs and he pulls out a little, shallow again, pumping in and out slowly, going deeper; then, when I choke, shallow again.

“I like you like this, you know that? On your knees and quiet.” He almost smiles. “Ready?”

Ready? Ready for what?

He forces my head forward, thrusting in to my throat.

I dig my fingers into his thighs and cry out, but the sound is muffled as hefucks my face, watching me as he takes me harder and harder until, finally, he stills inside me.

I feel the first spurt of c*m hit the back of my throat and feel it slide down as the next one comes. I watch his face, and I hate that I can’t look away, hate that he’s so beautiful, hate that I want him even when I should hate him.

When he’s emptied, he drops to his knees, breathing hard, smiling a little. He’s still got hold of me, but he’s not hurting anymore.

With his other hand, he pushes the hair that’s stuck to the sheen of sweat on my forehead back.

He just looks at me for a minute before kissing me, kissing my mouth that tastes like him, that’s just had him inside, that’s just swallowed everything he gave me.

And when he slides one hand into my panties and rubs my c**t, I kiss him back, and I come. I come on his fingers, in the palm of his hand, and I’m pulling him to me when I should be pushing him away.

Wanting him when I should be hating him.

Sebastian's POV

I’m up earlier than usual the next morning. Helena is fast asleep beside me, her arms hugged into her chest between us, forehead pressed against my shoulder.

It’s funny, no matter how far from me she starts on the bed, every morning it’s the same. She’s curled so tight against me that I’m afraid to wake her when I get up.

She doesn’t budge when I push the hair from her face to look at her. She looks younger than she is when she sleeps. It’s because her face is so relaxed. She’s always on her guard otherwise, and I understand that.

I get up, check my phone for a message I’m expecting. It’s there, but I’m not sure if I’m happy about it or not. It could save Helena, if it comes to that, but it would destroy Ethan in the process.

I type a reply. I’ll meet my contact in his Verona office the following day.

Helena doesn’t move when I slip off the bed to have a shower, but when I come back into the bedroom, she’s sitting up in bed, arms folded, her face like she’s deep in thought. She turns to look at me, and I notice that she doesn’t keep her eyes on mine.

“Good morning,” I say.

“Why were the payments different when my Aunt Helena was the Willow Girl?”

I toss the towel I just used to dry my hair aside and step toward her, take her chin in my hand, and tilt her face up.

“I said good morning.”

She looks at me, her forehead creasing. “Good morning.”

“That’s better. Why don’t you go have a shower and get dressed? You should come downstairs for breakfast. You can’t avoid my family forever.”

“No, thanks. I’ll lose my appetite with Ethan gawking at me.”

“He can’t help how he is, you know that, right?”

“What do you mean?”

“You must have noticed.” Although she’s had such little interaction with him, is it possible she hasn’t?

She shrugs a shoulder. “He seems strange. I just thought he was a jerk.”

“Oh, he is a jerk, but there’s something else. He had an accident when he was fourteen. There was some damage to his brain.”

“Oh.”

I glance away, remembering, but only for a moment. “And Lucinda manipulates him. Teaches him everything he knows.”

“Teaches him to hate me.”

“Not just you. I’m just saying there’s a reason he’s the way he is. And that doesn’t mean you should be alone with him, but just so you understand.”

“It doesn’t matter to me. He’s still my enemy, no matter what. What was the accident?”I turn away before answering. “A boating trip gone wrong.” I walk into the closet to get dressed, pull on a pair of jeans. I have a T-shirt in my hands when I walk back into the bedroom to find her still on the bed.

She bites her lip. “So what happens when the year is up? I mean, do I just…do you… Do you stay here and I’m with him and…”

The thought of it, of handing her to him, of him touching her, makes my hands fist. Is it just her, or would I feel this way with anyone? I wouldn’t wish my brother on any of the Willow Girls because it’d be handing her to Lucinda and handing her to Lucinda would be like handing her to Satan himself.

“Don’t think about that now, Helena. There’s a full year. A lot can happen.”

“What does that mean?”

I pull my T-shirt on and go into the bathroom to comb my hair, but I’m really just buying time.

“You asked me about the payment when your Aunt Helena was the Willow Girl,” I say, coming back into the bedroom.

She nods, sits up a little taller.

I sit on the edge of the bed. “How much do you know about her time here?”

“Not much. Only that she survived.”

“She was here for two-and-a-half years. Not three.”

“Why?”

“Because she killed the firstborn Scafoni son.”

Helena’s mouth falls open, and her eyes go wide. “What?”

“Smothered him in his sleep.”

“How? I mean, she didn’t say anything about that to me. Are you sure it’s true?”

I nod. “Six months into her ordeal, she killed him, so she was passed on to the second. Then, after a year, to the third. That’s why the discrepancy in payment.”

“I don’t believe you. This makes no sense. She’s not a killer.”

“She probably wouldn’t be under normal circumstances.”

“No. It’s a mistake. It has to be.”

“Funny thing was, his middle finger was missing, and they never found it.”

At that, her eyes grow to twice their size.

“Helena, I’ll admit, the bastard probably deserved what he got, but your aunt wasn’t all there, and definitely not by the end.”

“Did you think about what I asked? If I can call her?”

I get off the bed, walk to the dresser to put on my watch. “You want to ask her about this? Verify I’m not lying? She wouldn’t tell you,” I say, my back to her.

“Maybe because it’s not true. Maybe it was one of his brothers. You’re all ruthless. I don’t see any brotherly love between any of you.”

“Believe what you want. It’s all written down. Recorded.”

“Just because it’s written down doesn’t make it a fact.”

I check my watch. “Go have a shower and come down to breakfast. I’ll be there. You won’t be alone.”

She looks up at me, c***s her head to the side, and gives me a smirk. “Even if you’re there, I’m still alone, Sebastian. More alone than I knew thanks to what I learned yesterday. And with today’s story”—she shakes her head—“if you’re trying to turn me against my family, it won’t work.”

“I’m just telling you the truth. Maybe think about the questions you ask me next time.”

“You’re unbelievable sometimes, you know that?” she says, sliding off the bed. She wraps the blanket around herself and turns to go into the bathroom.

I grab her arm, stop her. “And you wish you hated me for being a Scafoni, but you don’t.”

She tugs to free her arm, but I hold tight.

“Oh, I do hate you, Sebastian. I’ll always hate you.”

I stare at her, and she at me. The next time she tugs, I let her go.

She disappears into the bathroom and locks the door. That’s why she showers here. The lock. It’s probably why she sleeps in my bed.

Better the devil you know.