Healer of Love

CHAPTER3

The police called to say there was nothing more they could do. There weren’t any leads after a month. “It was probably the work of drunk tourists who were long gone.” They said. Drunk tourists. Drunk tourists who wanted a crepe or crème brûlée in the middle of the night. Yes, definitely.

I called my mom right after and she stayed with me on the phone while I cried for the next hour. When I was done, probably panicking from all the things I’d said, she said, “Scarlet, please don’t do anything to put you in harms way.” In that voice she uses when she is trying to guilt me. I know I’m the only one she has, she didn’t have to pull out the card every time she didn’t like something I was doing.

I assured her I was sane, and fine. I had to stop business for a whole month, that’s a whole month worth of income down the drain. My insurance is taking care of most of the repairs but what about the expensive equipments that got damaged in the tussle, months worth of ingredients all lost. If they did it this time with no repercussions, trust me they’d do it again.

The injustice of it all made my blood boil. They had to know that this wasn’t acceptable.

So no, I wasn’t insane to go up against a powerful family like then, but I was outraged. Furious enough to find myself here. In front of Dante Morettis building.

It’s laughable how easy it was to get in. Dante Moretti may have security protocols in place to keep away dangerous intruders, but I guess his horny security guards didn’t have enough training against a red haired with a pair of great t**s.

I haven’t really worked out what my plan of action is. All I know is I had to get to him. I had to look him in the eye and confront him for what he did.

I sneak into the building as stealthily as I can. I know Dante Moretti owns this building but I do not know where in actuality his apartment is. I quickly dart in the elevator as a concierge gets in.

The man looks at me suspicious because of the manner which I entered the elevator and I try to quickly regain my composure. Putting on my most sultry character, I turn to him as he asks where to, miss?

Running my hand through my hair, I try to mimic my most alluring voice as I say “Penthouse.”

The man looks suspicious still but doesn’t say a word and pushes the button. I mean it only makes sense that the owner of the building should live in the penthouse. If not, I’d have a lot of explaining to do to the resident on the top floor.

The elevator finally dings to a stop opening for me to step out, as the man still looks at me suspiciously. I quickly walk out before he can say a word to question me.

The penthouse is everything you’d expect from a luxurious top floor apartment. Dark grey to beige color scheme with barely any pop of colors. Yes, depressing. Just as I expected from a sadist who’d burn down an apartment.

The little details I have to admit are quite tasteful from the accent wall, to the low Japanese style furniture. There was a human somewhere living inside that deep dark hole of a hermits body.

It strikes me that I’m able to roam about, snoop and touch whatever as it appears that no one’s home.

I move towards his kitchen, there are no pictures in the living room and in my twenty three years of living I’ve found that people’s kitchens are way more interesting and telling of who they are.

Just as I’m about to begin another round of snooping I hear faint noises coming from the room area. Could this finally be the sort of evidence I need? I might be able to actually nail the bastard. What could it be? A dungeon, built in torture chamber..? I wonder as I slowly tiptoe into the hallway following the sounds.

They get louder the closer I walk. Sounds of pain. A man, a woman…

A lash sound rings through loud and I almost audibly gasp. A whip? What in the hell is going on? Could it truly be a built in indoor torture chamber? Rich people truly thought they could get away with anything. Wait till I hand this to the police.

Oh… ah…

Ah… ah…

A yelp

A shriek

A whimper

Please…

I hear faint sounds of a woman begging it appears.

Is he torturing women? He could be a sick pervert that assaults women because of the disgusting pleasure it makes him feel, to have power against another human being like that.

Not on my watch. I quickly increase my pace to the room down the hall where the sounds are coming from.

I swing the door open but what I see is not at all like what I expected.

It’s a red room, everything is red, everywhere is illuminated by the color red. On one wall there is a rack with an array of cuffs, chains and collared hung on it. Under that are different sizes of whips.

In the other side it’s a big canopy bed, with four pillars at each bed post, everything on that is black, from the sheets to the color of the bed, there are silver accents all around it which could be chains or links, or whatever else Dante’s deprived mind had put there.

On another side is a weird looking chair with different tools aside and holes where the cushion is supposed to be.

But all that… does not compare to the only side of the room that matters now. There is a man hovering over the floor there, seemingly hung by a metal chain with leather straps. This unrecognizable man is spread eagle with straps hitting out of the wall holding him in place. He has what appears to be n****e clamps on him, apart from that wearing nothing but a leather jock strap, a man is behind him pulling at the n****e clamps, while a woman is kneeling in front of him with a collar attached to a chain held by another man holding her back as she begs, the man holds a whip in the other hand. It looks surreal like a painting from the renaissance period.

Dante is sitting in front of all this in a huge black chair that can be mistaken by a throne watching. I’m in shock, my jaw drops with no sound managing to come out. Of all the things this was not what I was expecting.

“What are you doing here?” Dante asks his eyes trained at me and I realize he must have been looking for a while because at the sound of his voice the ‘performers’ stop all turning to me and I immediately bolt out of there slamming the door behind me.

A torture chamber?! I kick myself for being so stupid I definitely wasn’t wrong but it was not quite the kind of torture I expected.

I quickly push the button of the elevator to go down, willing it to move as fast as it can.

Oh my! I think as I stand inside still reeling from the scene I just witnessed. Of all the hedonistic things Dante Moretti was rumored to be into this was wilder than anything I could’ve imagined. A b**m orgy was definitely not on my list of what I wanted to show the police to prove the Morettis guilt.

Fuck that. My mother was right. Maria definitely knew way more than I gave her credit for, I should’ve just listened to her.

I finally get out of the elevator walking as fast as I can outside the building without calling a lot of attention to myself. This was a mistake, I did not need to find that out. Maria always said my impulsive nature would lead me to trouble one day. Why were mothers always right?

My phone rings and I immediately pick it up without checking who it is.

“Hello.” I answer, looking around for a cab to hail.

“Scarlet? Scar, where are you?” A frantic Zeke asks from the other end of the line.

“Out, trying to sort out some business Zeke.”

“You have to get here Scar it’s bad.” The tone of Zeke’s voice brings me right back down to earth as I pause.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“It’s Antonio Moretti he’s here, he… it’s bad Scar, come quick.” Sounding almost close to tears my hands start to shake involuntarily as Zeke continues, “Antonio Moretti is claiming the bakery belongs to him now, and Niamh … she’s hurt.”

I steel. Everything in me goes cold. “I’m coming I say.” Hailing the first cab that passes and I could swear right before I enter I hear a faint voice call out.

“Scarlet.”