Taming Giovanni

The hand trailed slowly along her leg, heading towards her thigh. Victoria stiffened, trying not to move. The hand rose higher and the owner smirked, blowing a bad breath and cigarette smoke her way. She turned away and grimaced, holding her breath. “What's that?” he asked, his hand temporarily freezing on her thigh. Victoria shook her head. “Nothing.” “You relax,” he ordered. “It's gonna be over soon, huh?” She nodded, head still turned aside. “Yeah, I know.” He tucked a strand of her short hair behind her ears. “You're gonna enjoy it.” “Thank you,” she replied quietly. Doing her best to calm her thumping heart and telling herself that it won't be that bad, she turned back around to face him. Gideon toyed with her hair again, his cigar hanging at the corner of his mouth. “It wasn’t this way yesterday. What happened?” “I cut it off,” she replied. She had taken scissors to it personally, hacking it off to the length of her neck. It was better that way. She was barely feeding and hair care didn't rank high on the list of necessities. “I like it,” Gideon grunted. “Huh-uh.” He forced her head towards him, seeking her lips with his wet, huge ones. She gagged. Visibly. A huge mistake. She froze. Gideon stared at her. Then in one powerful move, he shoved her off his lap. “I ain't good enough for you, am I?” Her heart slammed into her ribs and she steadied her voice before she spoke, “N-no. I just felt a pain in my stomach. It's hunger. I haven't eaten all day.” He stared at her again, grunted. Then he reached out and brought out an old bundle of notes and placed it on the table beside two other bundles. “When we're done, you can have extra.” She was about to get up when Whitney Houston's golden voice filled the air, “Ieeeeeeee I—” She grabbed her phone before it could sing further. “Hello?” “It's Madison. Where are you?! The payment portal is closing soon. In, like, an hour.” “Yeah. I know,” she lied. “I'm on it.” She was NOT on it. “Really?” drawled Madison. The doubt in her voice was unmistakable. “Where are you now? Do you have the fees?” “Almost.” “Almost? You have it almost?” her neighbour asked, then sighed. “Just come straight here when you do.” “Okay, I will. Thanks, Maddie.” She hung up the call and turned to look back at Gideon. He stared back with black, soulless eyes. It was just for today, just this once, she thought to herself. But as much as she tried to steel her stomach, she couldn't. Gideon wasn't the physically appealing type. Not to her. He was burly and cruel, a pimp, money-lender and local gangster who ruled his side of the street with fear and blood and chaos. He had pulled aside his jacket, his white shirt unbuttoned, revealing spattered curls of hair on his chest. “What are you waiting for? An invitation from God?” “No, no. Sorry, I was just lost in thought for a moment.” “Well, get over here. I ain't got all day.” But as she shuffled closer, she knew she couldn't do it. “I'm sorry. I can't.” His stare at her was stuff made from legend. “What?” She took several steps backwards for her own safety. “I can’t do it.” “f*****g b***h!” He launched at her, but she was faster. She grabbed her bag and dashed out the door just as a vase came crumbling down in the spot where her head had been. **** She ran until she got to the third street, just in case he had sent his goons after her. Then she slowed to a stop, thinking as she walked on. Where on earth would she get five thousand dollars to complete her college fee in an hour? And also pay for her father's medicine? Her phone began to ring again and she glanced at the screen, preparing to ignore it if it was Madison. But what she saw made her do a double-take. The screen was broken. Great. Another trouble to add to her pile of financial woes. Left with no other choice, she headed to the restaurant where she worked and earned ten measly dollars per hour. It barely covered her rent at the end of the month but it was all she had. “Back so soon?” Grace, the 40-going-on-65-year-old cashier, asked, a unlit stick of Marlboro in her mouth. “Yeah.” “Went to see Gideon?” Vickie paused. “How did you know?” Grace huffed. “Don't flatter yourself, Bella. I don't care about your business enough to snoop. Multiple eyes saw you going into his office and news travels fast.” The older woman paused and ran her eyes over Vickie. “How was it? Bet it was rough. That bastard.” She couldn't hear anymore. She ignored Grace and went in to get ready for the onslaught of customers already coming in for the lunch hour. In the bathroom, she stared at herself in the mirror after splashing water on her face. Her image stared back at her. Green eyes, black hair and white skin that never tanned. She had been called beautiful before— stunning, gorgeous, ethereal even, but all she saw right now was a girl who was in desperate need of some money. And good food. Her cheekbones were getting a little more obvious by each passing day. She sighed. She might as well just forget about college. She'd tried her best. She turned and left the bathroom and had barely made it out when the Manager of the establishment found her. “Good. Here you are. One of the private rooms upstairs is occupied. Everyone is busy down here. Go wait on them. Here is their order.” He handed her the paper and turned her towards the way to the kitchen. Minutes later, she was on her way up the stairs. “Hello,” she called out as she got to the door, struggling under the weight of the tray. The door opened from inside and she flashed a smile to the person who'd opened the door. “Hi. Hello, thank you.” She glanced up as she stepped into the room, and stopped. “Oh.” Men. About six of them. In suits. And sunglasses. On the table, there was a shining gun with a silver holster. And money. Lots and lots of it. Her college fees. “Do you have all day to stand there?” a voice called from behind her irritatedly. “Oh, sorry.” She hurried forward and served them, bowing every second in apology. But none of them were watching her or the table. They had gone back to their conversation, engrossed in it. Quick as lightning, she tilted the empty tray, sliding the nearest bundle of bills off the table’s edge. She caught it before it fell to the floor and hid it beneath her apron, clutching the tray against it. Her pulse roared so loudly she thought they must have heard it. One wrong move, one glance at her, and she was dead. But nothing happened. She turned to go, hurrying towards the door, but as she got to the entrance, a vice-like hand wrapped around her arm, hard. She glanced up, up and into a pair of cold dark eyes. “Hello, Miss.” Her breath caught. The stranger’s voice was calm, almost polite, but his gaze was sharp—like he already knew what was stuffed inside her coat. The wad of bills pressed against her ribs suddenly felt heavier, hotter. Her mind screamed run, but her legs betrayed her, rooting her to the spot beneath that piercing stare. “Going somewhere?”