Slave Girl

He shoved Antonio’s hands away.

“He didn’t kill Ellie,” he said. “He enjoys her company.”

“To pacify you. You’re his prize. Not her. She’s nothing. If she’d been given to a mere soldier or a capo, he’d have killed her. You’re his minion.”

“Be careful, Raphael. Our friendship only extends so far right now.”

“I know, but you have your doubts. I’m going to go. I’ll let you figure out the rest on your own.”

He left the bathroom. Ellie didn’t even try to hide her eavesdropping.

“Please be careful,” he said. “When you’re in the company of my father, don’t let your guard down.”

She only nodded.

He got all the way to the door when Antonio called his name. He turned to see the man standing in the doorway, a towel in his grip secured around his waist. About time. He didn’t want to keep on staring at his ugly dick.

“Your father has a tail on you. He keeps a close eye on you. You haven’t been coming around to his place, and he wants to know what you’re hiding.”

“Thank you.” He was already aware of the man following him. It was why whenever he went up to his apartment, he closed the curtains and locked his doors. He put all the necessary precautions in place so no one fucked with him.

After leaving the apartment, he went to his car and climbed in.

If he didn’t move quickly to take over his father, he was going to end up dead.

Pulling out his cell phone and moving to the secure line, he put a call through to his contact. It was one of the capos who’d reached out to him a couple of years ago with his doubts on his father and his ability to rule and to remain in charge. Rumors of his declining health had been spread but it had all been bullshit. His father was healthy.

For Raphael, it was the first time he became aware of his father’s love of young girls. He’d also started researching his mother’s death. He had a feeling she found her husband in bed with a teenager, and it had cost her her life. His father always seemed to have a way of manipulating the truth to make himself look like the fucking king.

He finished the call, not any happier than when he’d started it. The capo only had half of all of the families on board. What they hoped to do with Giavanni’s death was overthrow his power, force those who followed him to turn their loyalty to him.

Some of the men didn’t trust him. They felt he was too young and cocksure to lead. He’d been fucking up left and right. Sure, he’d chased pussy while also conducting as much investigation on his to take out his father as he could. The last thing he wanted to do was have his father question why he no longer liked to fuck. It wouldn’t be good for his image or what to do.

Pocketing his cell phone, he slammed his fist against the door.

Pissed off.

Angry.

Annoyed.

He turned over the ignition and made his way back home, back to Elenore, to the only good thing in his world.

****

Elenore lay on the sofa, a board across her knees as she wrote word for word out of the book, while also listening to the audio tape of how they were sounded out. She was able to spell a handful of words and recognize them.

For now, she’d put the idea of learning to tell time to another problem. She wanted to improve her English, or at least just the basics.

Removing the headphones, she lifted up her notebook and smiled. “Hello, my name is Elenore. I have no home but I want to be loved.” She placed her finger near the word loved. She liked this word. It reminded her how she felt about Raphael.

Looking toward the clock, she frowned. The one on the wall claimed it was close to nine, and it was dark out.

So confusing. She didn’t know what the time was, but at least she could count to twelve. Raphael had taught her that.

After the disaster with his teaching, he’d been the one to purchase her the English speaking and texts. This was her study time. She learned as much as she could, as fast as she could, hoping to improve daily.

Just as she was about to put the earphones in again, she heard the door open. Raphael was home.

Jumping over the sofa, she charged toward him, only to come to a stop when she saw his face. He looked … sad.

“Elenore,” he said.

“What is it, Raphael?” she asked.

He paused at the door, stepping toward her. She tensed up but not in fright. She couldn’t recall a time she’d ever seen him look so lost, as if something bad had happened to him since the last time he saw her, which was only that morning. They’d shared toast and coffee together. He made a couple of jokes. Things always sounded funny in the morning, at least to her.