Raphael (Deadly Virtues 1)

Maria panicked. Was he going to watch her shower? Be in the bathroom with her, see her naked body? She knew he would soon, but faced with the prospect, Maria felt cold fear rush through her.

Raphael pulled a chair from against the wall and sat down opposite the bathroom door. “I’ll wait here for you to finish. I’ll put clothes in there for you to wear. Then you’ll come out to me and sit on this seat. And you will wait for my instruction like a good little rose.”

Maria moved in the direction of the bathroom. Raphael’s eyes tracked her as he went to the closet and came back with a black t-shirt. It must have been his. He placed it on the black marble bathroom counter. Just as he was about to leave, he turned to her, death and hell in his golden eyes. “Try to escape, make a single noise that betrays your presence here, and you will be punished. And not the type of punishment you will enjoy. There’ll be pain. Lots of unbearable pain.”

Terror struck her like a bolt of lightning in a summer rainstorm. Terror of what this man was capable of. He dragged his thumb over her bottom lip. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if you disobey. Don’t make me hurt you, little rose. I simply want your pleasure.” Then, like a switch being flicked, Raphael smiled his warm smile and said softly, “Make sure you clean the makeup off. You’ll be much more beautiful without it.”

Raphael left her alone with her nerves, her anxiety, and her utter distress. She closed the door—there was no lock. Walking to the large shower, Maria turned the knob to the highest setting. Steam billowed around the room, sticking to her skin. The fog reminded her of the confusion clogging her mind. “You must see this through, Maria,” she whispered. Moving to the large mirror, she wiped the steam off the glass and looked up at herself. Her makeup was still on her face, although her eyes were rimmed with black from where the eyeliner and mascara had run. The curls in her hair had dropped into clumps resembling rats’ tails, and her red lipstick had stained her lips.

She looked just like the women at the club.

“That’s what you must become,” she said to her reflection. “You must play his game. Even if it costs you your life. You must try to help him, save him.” Her neck was covered in red marks from where Raphael had strangled her.

He had strangled her.

Maria shuddered, remembering the sinister echo in his stare as he tightened his hands and squeezed. Raphael was every inch an unapologetic, stone-cold killer.

She prayed there was more inside him. Some part of him that was simply lost. Someone good deep inside him that she could appeal to, that she could foster into coming to the surface and ending this awful way of life.

Maria pulled the dress over her head, trying to not let trepidation consume her courage. Her bra and panties came off next. When she turned to face the shower, she couldn’t look back. In all these years since she had been found and freed from William Bridge’s ranch, she had never been brave enough to look at her bare back.

She simply couldn’t relive that time in her life. Not right now. Not now she was faced with this new kind of hell.

Maria exhaled as she stood under the heavy spray. This shower was stronger than those back at the convent. It was opulent, the surrounding tile a rich onyx with a gloss finish. Shampoos and conditioners were on the side shelf. Body and face washes, razors—anything a person could ever need.

Maria took the washcloth that lay untouched on the shelf. She scrubbed every trace of last night from her body—the sin, the smoke, and the acts of depravity she had seen. She knew similar acts awaited her in the coming days, weeks . . . however long it took for Raphael to grow tired of her. She glanced down at her wrists and her ankles, at the redness that lay in rings around her flesh. Her neck was sore to the touch.

Maria closed her eyes and her head fell against the wet tile. She breathed. As she tried to calm, to find her purpose in this moment, she saw Mother Superior in her mind.

“I want to stay behind the monastery’s walls,” Maria said to Mother Superior as the older woman laid a hand on her back. Maria had awoken screaming into the night, her cheeks flooded with tears. “I can’t go out there again…” she whispered. “The world, the cruel men that dwell there . . .” Maria shook her head. “I want to serve God in seclusion. Be His devoted servant.”