Collateral (Collateral Damage 1)

I watch her and wait. I’ve learned patience over the years.

Anger makes her eyes darker. I think this is how they’ll look when I lay my dirty hands on her. When I fuck her.

“You know what you can do with that ring, Stefan?” she asks, eyes blazing. “You can shove it up your ass.”

She tries to push past me, but I catch her wrist and make her turn to me. I squeeze and watch her face contort with the pain.

“You’re going to make this fun, aren’t you?” I ask through gritted teeth. I turn my attention to her hand and force the ring on her finger before twisting her arm behind her back, forcing her to turn so she’s facing away from me. I tug her backward and close my other hand over her throat.

“I don’t want it. Take it off,” she manages.

“I don’t give a damn what you want.” My voice is tight, years-old rage burns inside me. “You’ll wear my ring. You will never take it off, not at any time day or night because if you do then you and I have a problem. Am I making myself clear?”

“Let me go. You’re a thug. A bully.”

I tighten my grip on her throat. “Am I clear, Gabriela?” I ask, keeping her immobile.

“Crystal,” she spits.

Good.

I release her and step backward.

She stumbles, turns to face me, both hands protective over her throat.

We stay like this for a moment, facing off. I see the fear in her eyes, the uncertainty. I almost feel sorry for her. She is so far out of her league.

But then I remember my brother. I remember my dead brother mutilated and left in that stinking morgue and every muscle tightens.

“Now go to your room and stay there until I tell you you can come out,” I say through gritted teeth.

“With fucking pleasure!” she spits, before running past me and up the stairs, tripping once in her haste before she disappears into her borrowed room.7GabrielaI slam the bedroom door and lean against it, not sure if he’s on his way up now to make good on his threats. To hurt me. To make me docile.

But I am not that. I will never be that.

I touch my throat and it’s like I can still feel his hand around it.

He could snap my neck in a second. He could strangle me on a whim. It would take little effort from him.

The cold of the diamond ring makes me draw my hand away. I look down at it, the too tight ring with its enormous diamond. I hate it. I fucking hate it because it’s exactly what he says. His mark of ownership.

Rebellion has me tugging at the thing, wanting it off. I’m not sure if I’m glad it fits too tightly to be pulled off so easily because I did hear his warning loud and clear. I’m not stupid enough not to heed it.

I do not want a problem with him.

No matter how much I fight, how rebellious I am, I know better than to make a problem with Stefan Sabbioni.

He will punish me and the rage that rears its ugly head from beneath that calm, sophisticated exterior, it scares the fuck out of me.

When five minutes pass and it’s still quiet in the hallway, I step away from the door.

I look around for some way to block it. The dresser will be too heavy to push so I take a chair and lodge it under the doorknob, not sure it’ll work to keep him out. Knowing, actually that it won’t. That if he wants in, he’ll be in. He’ll break the door down if he has to.

What I did was stupid. I know. I shouldn’t have pushed him like that.

I slip off my shoes and go into the bathroom to splash cold water on my face. I’m trying not to look at the ring on my finger, but I do touch the reddened print of his hand on my throat.

What the hell does he want from me? What does he expect? That I’ll meekly do as he says? That I’m remotely okay with having my life stolen so he can take his revenge against my father?

What could my father have done to make him do this?

And aren’t I included in that vengeance? I am my father’s daughter and Stefan seems to think I’m precious. So, to bury my father, to use Stefan’s words, does he then mean to bury me along with him?

I open the bathroom door and walk back into the bedroom. It’s dark, the only lights those from the pool coming in through the still open French doors. I don’t turn the lights on though.

Instead, I open every drawer in the dresser, then search through the closet for a weapon. Apart from the heels on some of the shoes, I find nothing. Maybe I could lodge one in his eye.