Off the Record (With Me in Seattle Mafia 3)

“No, he’d rant and rave. Lecture. Take my car away. One night, he locked me out of the house.”

“He locked you out of your own house?”

“It wasn’t mine. My name wasn’t on it. It’s only mine now because he died and left it to me. He was a horrible person. So, I learned that it was just easier to go along with what he wanted. At first, he only wanted other people to watch. That was awful. But then, it just…got worse. I’m not going to go into the details because they’re embarrassing and awful. But I did those things, Rafe. Even if it made me sick. Even if I didn’t want to. I still did them.”

“You were terrorized,” he says, his blue eyes shooting flames of anger. “Enslaved. Abused doesn’t even start to cover it. Christ, A, if I’d known—”

“It’s over now.” I shift in my seat and frown at my empty glass. “My lips are numb. I should probably stop drinking now.”

“You should go to bed.”

“Yeah.” I blink at him. “You’re so handsome. And I’m still just as drawn to you as I was when I was nineteen. Too bad it didn’t work out. Well, I’m going to bed. Make yourself at home.”

I wave and wander up the stairs to my room, take the robe off, and climb into bed.

I’m just so tired.

But then the dreams come.

“You’re going to lie on that bed and let me do whatever I want to you, Annika.”

I scowl and try to keep the tears at bay. “Richard, this makes me uncomfortable.”

“I don’t fucking care. You’re mine. That means you’ll do what I say, when I say. Now, get on the bed with your ass in the air like I told you to.”

I let the tears fall, but I know they won’t matter. Richard never cares what I say or do, as long as he can use me the way he wants. He’s awful. He’s evil.

People are watching, but I close my eyes and block it out. I’m at the beach, in a chair, with the sun shining on my face.

For just a moment, I almost believe it.

But then something hits me over the butt, hard. I cry out, but it keeps happening, over and over, making my skin sting and more tears come to my eyes.

God, is it over yet?

But, no. No, it’s not.

They take turns. Some fuck me. Others laugh. Touch. I’m nothing but a thing to them. I’m nothing.

“He’ll never want you now,” Richard hisses in my ear. “You’re damaged goods, and Rafe will never look at you with anything but disgust. You’re a slut. A whore.”

“No.” I clench my fists and cry out again. “No, please. Just stop. I’ll be good. Just stop.”

“Hey, baby. Hey. You’re okay.”

He pulls me to him, and I want to cling to him. To tell Rafe how much I love him. To thank him for making me feel safe.

But the words won’t come, and the dreams won’t stop.

Chapter 5

~Rafe~

The screaming woke me. The whimpers tore at my heart. No man wants to hear the love of his life cry out in terror.

And now, holding her hand in the dark, I’m torn between needing to comfort her and wanting to kill someone.

I’ve never felt the need to murder the way I do on Annika’s behalf. I’m the least violent of the three of us brothers. But she’s hurting, and someone needs to pay.

The worst part is, I have a feeling that the person responsible for the anguish is already dead.

I should go back to my own bed now that she seems to be settled down, but she’s so damn tempting.

Just leave her be, Martinelli.

I turn to leave, but she whimpers again, and I make the executive decision to stay. I slip between the covers and spoon her, pulling her against me as a million memories flood my mind.

I spent years sleeping with her just like this. Years. It’s as familiar as breathing. Sometimes, we wouldn’t sleep at all. We’d lie in the dark and talk and laugh. Other times, we’d make love all night long.

I miss all of it. Every minute of it. The fact that I can’t be with her because of who our families are makes me rage like nothing else ever has.

“Damaged goods,” she says, talking in her sleep.

“Shh.” I smooth her hair away from her face and kiss her cheek. “It’s okay.”

“Rafe won’t want me.”

I blink, surprised. What the hell kind of dream is this? In what alternate universe would I ever not want her?

“Not good enough.”

“Hey, babe. Hey.” I kiss her again and brush my fingers down her cheek. She wiggles onto her back, her eyes flutter open, and she offers me a half-smile. “You’re safe, Annika.”

“Safe.” She sighs, burrows into my shoulder, and seems to calm down.

Does she think she’s not good enough for me? That anything she may have done in her past would make me want her any less? That I could ever fall out of love with her? For Christ’s sake, I’ve loved her all of my adult life.