Property of Don Donovan

Chapter 4 - Stay Alive

The tailor finally leaves after nearly one hour of poking me like I was a doll, and now, the space feels too big and too quiet. I’m still standing in the middle of the rug,…. my skin crawling from where Dante’s fingers had touched my neck. I pace around the room for a while and then I move quickly to lock the door just so I can enjoy the solitude. My hands are shaking so badly, l have to use both of them to slide the lock home.

I run to the back of the closet surrounded by clothes that smell of cedar and expensive fabric. I sit on the floor, pull a burner phone out of my boot, and start punching at the screen frantically …

“I’m in, Dante Donovan is a psycho. He says I’m a Vitale & he’s supposed to train me”, I typed.

The response comes back within seconds. It says “Good. Stay weak, let him think you’re a toy. Try not to get killed”!”

I take a deep breath, push the phone back into my boot, and close my eyes… leaning my head against the wall. My stomach is in knots, nothing makes any sense. I sit at back of the closet for a while, and every sound I hear coming from the hall makes me want to crawl and hide under the bed. Just the yesterday day I was a waitress who couldn't even handle a rude customer without fidgeting. Today, I’m a mole in a house full of murderers.

I hear a very heavy knock on the door, and Dante’s voice follows.

"Open up," he yells.

I jump to my feet and stagger out of the closet, hitting my head on a hanger. I try so hard but I can’t get my hands to stay still. I fumble with the lock like a hungry chicken and finally pull the door open. Dante is standing there with his shirt unbuttoned at the top, looking down at me like I’m a bug he’s deciding whether or not to squash.

"Why was the door locked?" he asks, with a low, dangerous voice.

I... I wanted to change," I lie, staring down at his shoes.

He steps into the room, moves directly in front of me… forcing me to back up until my calves hit the edge of the bed, and doesn’t stop until he’s literally over me. He reaches out his hand and wraps it around my neck tight enough to make me feel every inch of his grip.

"There are no locks for you in this house, Selene," he whispers, looking straight into my eyes with a cold, terrifying stare.

"You’re a Donovan asset now which means that your life isn’t yours. You have no rights, you have no god d*mn reason to keep this door locked, you hear me?"

I try to remove myself from his hold but I’m only wasting my effort. I’m struggling to breathe, but it isn’t because of his grip, it’s the way he’s looking at my mouth. He looks disgusted, but he’s not letting go.

"My father is waiting downstairs," he says, his thumb brushing against my jawline. "Try not to f*ck this up. If you cry or start shaking like a leaf, I’ll give him a reason to send you back to the gutter…. But this time, you’d be going back in a body bag."

He lets go of me so suddenly, making me stumble.

"Move," he commands, pointing at the door.

I follow him out, staring at the broad span of his shoulders. This man is so big, I look so tiny walking beside him. All I can think of right now is how easy it would be for him to break me in half….