“Everything else?” my father barked out, suddenly furious that anything could be happening in my life that he wasn’t made aware of. He might have only been my acting father for the past four years, but he took the job extremely seriously, especially because we’d both agreed not to tell Sebastian about their connection yet.
“Dante, what the hell is my daughter talking about?” he demanded.
I rolled my eyes because he didn’t even try to hide the fact that Dante was meant to report every detail of my life to him.
“She had some trouble with Ashcroft, the man who—”
“You think I don’t remember the man who orally raped and assaulted my daughter?” he snapped. “Cosima, figlia, you don’t come to me with this? Have I done something to deserve such treatment?”
“Well, nineteen years of neglect is a pretty large black mark,” I retorted, angrily cleaning up the rest of the medical supplies and throwing away the bloody bandages. The cabinets banged loudly as I stormed around the kitchen. “I am capable of handling my own problems.”
“Capable has nothing to do with it.” Dante lurched forward with a wince to snag my wrist and tug me closer. “We are your famiglia, tesoro; it’s our right and duty to protect you. Why do you refuse to let us do what is only natural?”
I refused to look into his burning black eyes. On the surface, they were the same depthless black as every mafia man without morals I had ever met, but sometimes, caught at the right angle or looking at me the way he tended to do, they were beautiful to their core.
It was a deeply confusing juxtaposition that I wasn’t in the mood to endure.
“I don’t need any saviours. I’m strong enough to handle things on my own,” I said, my voice so cold it immediately froze the air between Dante, the phone, and myself.
“I came to you because I needed help. Does that make me weak?” Dante asked softly, curling the arm on his undamaged side around me so that I was pressed to his inferno of warmth.
“No,” I muttered petulantly. “Though getting shot in the first place makes you pretty damn dumb.”
I looked up into his smile because like the sun, it was impossible to ignore.
“Good, now that that’s settled, explain to me what the plan is.”
“Who said there was a plan?” I asked innocently as I moved out of his grasp to pour him a glass of whiskey and grab the bottle of ibuprofen.
Salvatore snorted. “None of us are that stupid, Cosima. If you didn’t want our help, it’s because you have your own agenda. Now, kindly tell us before I die from the suspense.”
I rolled my eyes at his dramatics even though they always warmed my heart because they were so much like my own. “Fine, it’s not much of a plan, but the intent is there.” I sucked in a deep breath because I knew they were going to hate what I had to say. “I want to take down the Order.”
Immediately, the two men burst into raucous discord. I crossed my arms with a beleaguered sigh and waited for them to wind down a bit before I interjected to explain.
“It was my own fault, but I went to London with Sebastian to support his nomination for Best Actor at the BAFTAs and Ashcroft saw me there. He’s blackmailing me into being his new slave.”
“With what?” my dad asked, right down to brass tacks even though I could feel his fury through the phone.
“Apparently, there are photos and video from the night Alexander took my virginity in the ballroom.”
Dante cursed a blue streak of English and Italian words and then thumped his fist loudly on the countertop. “I should have remembered…maybe I could have slipped in to take the tapes when I went to Pearl Hall for your… union.”
“You knew?” Salvatore yelled.
“It’s not your fault,” I placated Dante by placing a hand on his thick forearm. “You couldn’t have known.”
“But I did. It’s the practice of the Order of Dionysus for each lord to record themselves taking their slave’s virginity. They have to submit the tape to the council, and then they are, well, fuck, graded on their performance. Anyone found wanting—maybe the Master is too gentle or the girl too eager—is called before the council to testify.”
“Because if either of those things happen, it might seem like the Master and slave are in love,” I concluded hollowly.
Every predator is prey to something.
Alexander’s warning reverberated through my head as everything locked into place. I’d been so shocked by the way he had hunted me across the ballroom, held me down and rutted into my untouched sex like a ruthless beast when he had been relatively kind to me in the days following my first dinner. It had seemed needlessly violent because, honestly, we both knew he could have had me willingly after a few more days or with some carefully tended touches to my traitorous body.