Sweet Collateral

A spark comes to life in her eyes, breaking through the lifeless glaze. “Why are you doing this? If you’re trying to break me –”

“I don’t need to break you.” Anna’s already broken.

She stands, her shoulders rigid. I stare into her eyes, and through that self-imposed wall of ice, I see all the pain and despair, the burning hatred and raw defiance. It’s buried, but it’s there, an ember just waiting for oxygen.

Her small fists clench. “Whatever it is that you want to do, just do it!”

“And what do I want to do?”

“Fuck me. Beat me. Pick your poison but just get it over with!” Her voice rises and she reaches for the straps of her dress, shoving them down her shoulders until the material falls, exposing her breasts. I grab her wrists and pin them together against my chest, repositioning her dress with my free hand.

“Didn’t I just tell you to stop with this shit?”

She’s shaking, breaths ragged and eyes wild. I can feel her pulse thrumming at her wrist, a primordial drumbeat against my fingertips.

“Don’t pretend you don’t want to.” She yanks against my hold.

A cold smile inches over my lips. “You’d like that wouldn’t you? For me to be exactly what you expect.” I lean into her, bringing my lips to her ear. “I think you want to be a slave, Anna. I think you want to be treated like a fuck doll. You’d rather be a whore than deal with the unknown. At least that way, you know what men want from you, right? You’d know what I want from you.”

She tugs on her wrists again, trying to break away from me, but I won’t let her. “No! I want…”

“What do you want, little bird?”

“I want to be free,” she whispers.

I step closer to her and place a finger beneath her chin. “No, you don’t. You say you want it, but I offer it to you, and you’re scared to take it. You’re so busy being so goddamn angry that you haven’t realized you’re standing in a cage and the door is open.”

“I’m not angry.”

I laugh. “Oh, avecita, you’re the angriest person I’ve ever met.” That anger in itself is a volatile thing because just as she has been imprisoned, so has it. She’s locked it down so tightly that it’s fighting to break free.

“And I’m not free.”

“Right now, no. You can’t even function without being told what to eat, do, or wear. Walk out of the cage, little bird.”

“Why?” she snaps. “Why ask me to leave the cage when you know I don’t belong to you? If someone is only going to put me right back in it, I’d rather not taste freedom. You can’t miss what you’ve never known.”

I swipe my thumb over her cheek, catching a stray tear that slips over her porcelain skin. What could she be if I unleashed all that anger inside her? What would Anna Vasiliev become with her freedom? She doesn’t deserve to live this life. I want to make her promises, and they’re right there on the tip of my tongue, but I stop myself. She’s just business. Business that gets under my skin.

“You won’t be a slave again.” It’s the only promise I can make, but it is one I’ll keep. Nero can deal with it or deal with me.

“You can’t promise that.”

“I’m Rafael D’Cruze. I can.”

“A cartel boss.” She snatches away from me as though waking from a dream and takes a step back. “I’ve known men like you my whole life. Don’t pretend to help me when we both know, if it weren’t for your ‘friend’, you’d happily put me to work to line your pockets. You’re all the same.”

My temper snaps tight like a rubber band, and I close the small space I allowed her only seconds before. She whips around as though to run, but I catch her, slamming my hand around her throat and wrenching her close. “Do not presume to fucking know me.”

Ragged breaths slip from her lips, and I can feel her heart pounding against my chest. I have to force myself to release my bruising grip on her and step away. “You know nothing.”

In the blink of an eye, her anger dissipates, replaced by that cool, untouchable mask she seems to wear so well. And as impenetrable as it may seem, it’s this that advertises how fractured she is, because she can’t handle feeling a damn thing.

“Can I go now?” she asks robotically.

“Look at me.”

She stares right at me, those blue eyes blank, distant, devoid of anything. “If I wanted to hurt you, I would. And if I wanted to fuck you, you’d know about it.”

Wordlessly, she steps around me, limping back into the darkness.

“Fuck!” I don’t have much of a heart, but if I did, she might very well break it. She’s like a bird with a damaged wing, but I can’t be the fool to try and fix her. As pretty as she is, the little Russian is never going to fly right again. Some people can’t be helped. I of all people know that. She’s Nero’s problem, not mine.