Gemma hadn't found the right man yet, or so she kept telling herself. She'd met a lot of men, but none of them were interesting in the way they were supposed to be. That hadn't changed here either. Bobby was compelling, but not that way. And Angelo, he was an absolute devil.
Willow turned with sudden concern. "Are you okay, Gem? They haven't been touching you, have they?"
Bobby had touched her, alright. But Gemma wasn't going to tell her about that. That was more embarrassing than anything else.
"They haven't touched me, but I don't think this is going to work. They're smarter than we gave them credit for."
"No, they're not. We knew they were smart. And we knew that there were going to be sacrifices. The more time they spend wasting their time with sexual things, the closer we get to destroying them."
"Okay, so, where is the part where we destroy them? Did he… did you… sleep with him?"
"No. I didn't sleep with him," Willow hissed. "I'm not a whore. I'm a woman planning on revenge."
It seemed to Gemma that Willow was a woman fucking Angelo Vitali. But Willow was getting that haughty expression she would get when she was about to lose her temper, and there was no point talking. Willow didn't listen. She had her own plans and her own ideas, and she followed them. She was kind of like Angelo in that way.
"So what now?"
"Now, we put the third phase of our plan into action. We've gained entrance, and we're captive. Digby is being held somewhere. Probably still in the stable. They've forgotten about him. They're not paying attention. All we have to do is keep serving as a distraction."
Willow hadn't been thinking about Digby either; Gemma would have guessed. She had been thoroughly distracted by Angelo and his bondage and his orgasms. The Vitali men were taking advantage of them, and they were winning in every way.
"We have to get out of here, Willow. This isn't working."
"Yes, it is. We knew that there would be sacrifices."
"We thought they might beat us up and torture us. We didn't think that you'd get tied up and come so hard it sounded like you were dying."
A lesser woman might have blushed, but Willow did not. She didn't color at all. She just sat there, perfectly composed, and looked at Gemma with that calm demeanor that was so innate to her.
"What happens when they decide to do it to me?"
"They're not going to do it to you."
"Why not? What makes me so different from you, exactly?"
Willow's expression shifted to be just the right side of patronizing. "Well…"
"Well, what?"
"Don't let it concern you, Gem. I don't think they're interested in you. Let's leave it at that."
Every word that came out of Willow's mouth made the words that had come out of Bobby's mouth earlier seem somewhat true. Not the part about being in love with her, but the part where Willow had her own agenda, which she kept largely private and pursued of her own accord. There was no guarantee that what had happened to Willow wasn't going to happen to her. The second Angelo Vitali got bored of the Lady Spencer; he would be coming for her. Maybe Bobby would save her. Maybe he wouldn't.
Mark
Days passed by, and nothing changed as fast as it needed to. Gemma had become skittish and nervous, but Willow remained resolutely rebellious to all Angleo's attempts to break her. She was animated by a deep hatred that even Angelo found perplexing. He had done far less to far more people and not been approached with nearly as much careless vitriol as Willow displayed.
Still, he had no intention of giving up. He would find her breaking point, and he would push her past it. It would just take a little ingenuity, that was all.
Willow awaited him in the cage room, where she was confined. Unlike Gemma, who seemed to have no interest in anything other than following Bobby about and badgering him for ice cream, Willows was a flight risk.
Angelo entered her room with quite a few tools at the ready and found her behind bars, hissing and spitting as usual.
"You're here to make me climax again because you mistake orgasm for control," she said, her tone full of derision. She was naked. He had decided that clothing was a privilege she was yet to earn; besides, it was a complete waste of time taking it off her every time she needed to be punished - which was always.
Willow had a way of turning absolutely every moment into a highly dramatic scene. It was enjoyable and tedious in equal measure. He stopped for a moment just inside the wooden door to enjoy the way her regal body looked spread out on the coverlet where she was laying in a poised and probably posed fashion. Her body was quite exquisite, the result of generations of noble breeding.