Ella

 

DINNER WAS GOING to be bad.

So bad.

I still didn’t know how to act around everyone and I still had trouble with the nightmares that Xavier was back torturing me again, hitting me with his gun, trying to touch me with his hands.

I shivered.

And then felt like puking.

He’d forced himself on me more times than I could count, thankfully, he never followed through — he was usually so drunk he passed out.

So rather than get raped.

I got beat.

I sometimes wondered which was worse, both?

I dipped my spoon into the soup and tried to stomach the broth but still felt like gagging — it’s why I never ate in front of everyone. I wasn’t a picky eater, but when I got nervous, I threw up.

It always pissed off Xavier.

Then again, I’d think puke would piss anyone off.

Frank Alfero called it a defense mechanism — he was the only one I trusted enough to talk to — because after living as a slave — he’d rode in on a white horse shaped like a gun — and saved me and the kids.

They weren’t my kids.

But they were defenseless and under the same torture that I was under. I tried to protect them as much as I could from their biological father — but it never ended well for me.

Rather me than them.

I had scars on my back to prove it.

And I’d do it all over again.

Frank decided it would be safer to let them stay with his family in New York, splitting us up, dividing the family once again, the only family I’d ever known.

So, I was excited that for Christmas — they’d all flown back.

The only thing that wasn’t exciting?

Dante.

With his whiskey colored eyes and cruel taunting smiles — he reminded me of a man with too much physical strength and even more intelligence.

In a word. He terrified me.

Sometimes the nightmares shifted and it was Dante choking me.

Sometimes when he looked at me — I think he imagined he was.

Every time we locked eyes, it felt like a storm was surging beneath the surface of his stare, like he wanted me to push him, to test him, to break him.

But the joke was on him.

I’d rather die than touch another guy.

I shivered again and tried to grab a piece of bread, stupidly not looking where I was reaching, but I knew the minute my fingers buzzed with awareness who I’d clumsily collided with.

“Sorry.” I jerked back so fast I dumped water onto my lap.

Talking at the giant table stopped altogether, which wasn’t normal for these guys, they drank wine like water and shouted things that any sane person would whisper.

They were Italians.

I wasn’t anything.

I was, what Xavier liked to call a whorish mixture of Russian and Spanish heritage. Then every time he said it, his eyes heated.

So many days — I used to stand in front of the mirror and beg for something horrible to happen to my face so that he wouldn’t look at me like that anymore. Maybe that’s why I took the bruising — it marred what he saw as perfection.

“Take it.” Dante barked, while I patted my lap dry with my napkin. “You obviously need it.”

He wasn’t giving me a compliment.

I felt my face heat.

Too embarrassed to look up.

“Dante.” Sergio’s low voice caused a chill to run over my body. Why did they all have to be so terrifying? If I thought living with one mob boss was stressful — living amongst five was downright unimaginable.

They were nice.

But I was biding my time until I did something wrong.

Xavier had been nice too at first.

Meaning, he gave me a roof over my head, and food.

I gulped and shook my head, trying to find my voice. “No thank you.”

“What?” Dante surged to his feet, slamming his hands on the table, silverware rattled I reached for my knife just in case something happened. “I’m being nice!”

“This?” Tex’s booming voice mocked, “Is you being nice? Hell, I think I know what your problem is.” He chuckled. “Our boy here needs to get laid. It’s sexual tension, now sit down, little virgin before I shoot you in your special place,” I could feel the anger boiling from Dante’s body.

“I would really like to see you try.” Dante challenged.

“Boys!” The sound of Trace standing and scooting her chair back made my ears ache. “I’ll send every single one of you outside to freeze your asses off if you don’t stop fighting. I’m running on no sleep! And it’s Christmas! So, sit your asses down and act like men!” Tears, I heard her tears.

Dante hated tears.

Probably because I usually had them filling my eyes on a daily basis.

“Sorry.” Dante mumbled.

“Yeah,” Tex was still laughing. “Sorry Trace, you know you’re my favorite.”

He made a noise.

“Other than my lovely wife, put the knife away Mo, I get the point — literally.”

I kept my head down.

I kept my shaking hands at my sides.

I waited to be dismissed.

Finally, everyone was done eating.

I bolted out of the room and into the family room where the giant Christmas tree, with its twinkling lights and massive presents loomed.

For some reason it made me feel more calm.

Maybe because it reminded me of happier times.

When I still had a family.

When things were normal.

Before Xavier killed them all.