Inked By The Mafia Man

I stop, biting down, realizing this isn’t like the other times I talk aloud to Jackson. The guards can probably hear me. Maybe they’ll think I’ve got my hands on a cellphone, and I’m trying to call for help.

Standing, I walk into the ensuite and splash water on my face.

My reflection stares at me bleakly, my eyes red, my cheeks are flushed from the sadness. My hair is in disarray.

I don’t look like a woman excited about her wedding. I look broken down, beaten, and I hate it.

Be strong, I scream in my mind.

But my mind has other plans.

Despite learning the truth about Luca, I can’t stop thinking about him no matter what I hear. I imagine the make-believe scene on the porch over and over where I’m painting him. His savage smirk turned into a loving smile.

I imagine our children, happy footsteps running, and sunlight glinting on the pool as my man plays with them. I think of a thousand impossible things.

It’s more than that. I shouldn’t want any of this, not now that I know the truth. I should push it all away as the madness it is. I should scream until my freaking vocal cords snap if that’s what it takes to push him out of my head.

But it’s so difficult to match the two versions of Luca.

I can’t forget the taste of his lips, the pressure as he pushed against me. I can’t forget the way his hands sunk greedily into my flesh.

He was faking it, fine, but it was so convincing.

Back in bed, I stare down at the tattoo. The bird looks so feeble now, so pointless.

Maybe Luca got a sick thrill out of that, too, marking me with the tattoo and laughing as he composed his expression into one of attention, captivation.

Jackson whines and hops down from the bed, walking over to the glass doors that open onto the grounds of the hotel.

“What is it, boy? You need to go?”

He moans and paws at the glass, his nails making a tapping noise.

“Okay, then.”

I walk over to the door, knocking loudly on it. When the guard doesn’t answer, I knock again.

With teeth gritted – Jackson’s moaning twisting through my insides – I hammer on the door until I’m sure I’m going to break the glass.

I don’t care. It’s bad enough they’re using Jackson as a pawn to keep me obedient. Do they want to burst his bladder too?

“All right, all right, calm the fuck down.”

The guard walks over, hovering on the other side of the glass. In the dark of the night, I can only make out his dim outline. Then he steps right up against it, his face appearing.

He sneers, another mean-faced guard, another man who sees me as nothing but Conor’s property.

“Jackson needs to go.”

“Didn’t he just go?” he snaps.

“That was five hours ago. He needs to go now. Thank you.”

My tone is sharp, my words coming out shaky. If they force Jackson to do his business in here, I will scream.

My ankle stings and that just makes me want to shatter the glass. I wish the tattoo would fly right off my leg.

Luca doesn’t want me, I repeat in my mind. Luca isn’t going to save me.

“Well?” I hiss when the man just stares.

He grins slowly. A scar zigzags from his chin to the corner of his lips, making his smile seem lopsided.

“You’re a spunky little thing, aren’t you? You know, if the boss wasn’t so obsessed, I might have a little fun with you myself.”

A shiver of hate runs through me. My nails jab into my palms, fists throbbing. “If you tried anything, I’d find a way to hurt you even if it took my entire life. I’d find a way to make you pay.”

The man bristles. “Big words from a prisoner.”

“You’d have to kill me,” I rage. “That’s the only way you could make sure I don’t get you back. So stop trying to act tough and open the fucking door.”

The man chuckles, looking down at Jackson. The poor little guy is sitting with his tail tucked between his legs. It’s my mood infecting him, so I force myself to take a slow breath, to calm the thunder inside of me.

“Please,” I say. “This isn’t fair. He doesn’t deserve to be punished.”

For a second, I think he’s going to say yes. But then he shakes his head slowly.

“He can wait. Or he can go in the tub, and you can clean it up.”

“But –.”

“Listen, girl. The boss told me to keep you in your room, which is what I’m doing. You can whine all you want, but it won’t change anything.”

Turning away with a huff, I scoop Jackson into my arms. He’s right. There’s no point arguing with these men. I’ve never known them to disobey one of Conor’s orders.

I carry Jackson into the bathroom, placing him on the tiled floor. I spent a lot of time training him not to pee indoors when I first got him, but if it’s a choice between him holding it in and hurting himself or going indoors, I will take the latter any day.