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CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
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THE MAFIA AND THE ARTIST CHAPTER THIRTY TWO
Clint paced the entry hall, the usually unobtrusive Christmas music beginning to set his teeth on edge. His brothers would arrive in less than an hour. He still second-guessed the plan. Genevieve had improved. When he’d instructed her to do a better acting job, she’d delivered. He couldn’t imagine how afraid she must be of the dungeon to be so compliant. And she’d never even seen the dungeon.She probably imagined it as a far worse place than it was. In her mind, Clint had no doubt she saw damp stones with water dripping from some unknown source and algae growing through the cracks and crevices. There would be a dripping sound, a dank, putrid smell, a dirt or concrete floor, a chill that wouldn’t leave the air, and heavy chains.He’d not bothered to disabuse her of that notion. The scarier the dungeon was to her, the easier it would be to get her cooperation. In reality, the dungeon was none of those things. If what he’d been told by the servants who had gone to get her belongings
THE MAFIA AND THE ARTIST CHAPTER THIRTY THREE
As soon as Genevieve excused herself from Beatrice and everyone she made her way to the smaller kitchen. It sat tucked away to one side of the house, far from everyone else. She poured a glass of tea from the refrigerator; the cool liquid was soothing as it went down. She tried to breathe and stared out the window at the setting sun and the herb garden.It was too many people. Her fears had gone from Clint killing her or hurting her for messing up, to the blind terror of being surrounded by so many people—most of them too inquisitive . A throat cleared behind her and she jumped and dropped the glass in the sink, causing it to shatter.Beatrice spun around, at first thinking it was Clint, but the man’s eyes were dead, and he didn’t have a scar. Raffalle . It was impossible to explain how Raffalle could look more frightening when he was so perfect, and Clint could seem safer with the wicked scar slicing down his neck . She gripped one ofthe larger glass shards, ignoring the pain as
THE MAFIA AND THE ARTIST CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR
The washcloth was soothing and cool against Genevieve’s heated flesh. It blocked out the world and gave her a place to hide. And in that place she was able to calm down.Clint’s thumb skimming over the back of her hand made her feel strangely safe. In spite of the kinds of things she knew he enjoyed doing to a woman, and in spite of his family, when he touched her like this, she couldn’t help feeling like everything would be okay.His voice penetrated the bubble she’d put around herself. “Do you think you can sit up now and let me fix your face?”He released her when she pulled her hand out of his and pushed herself against the headboard. Reluctantly she pulled the washcloth away. Clint patted her face dry with another piece of gauze. He must have bought stock in a first aid kit manufacturer. Both his home and Angelo’s were like a triage unit.He didn’t speak as he laid out the items of her makeup bag. She had several concealers and foundations, but she didn’t think he’d know what
THE MAFIA AND THE ARTIST CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE
Genevieve had gone straight to her room, Max following behind her. It was night, but with the outdoor floodlights she could see giant puffs of snow drifting down in a steady pattern.While she’d been at dinner, one of the servants had started a fire in the fireplace. Moments like this obscured reality as if she were visiting royalty instead of a prisoner.But she was trapped inside a Christmas card. What could be wrong with that? What kind of idiot complained or felt sad about that? She was still waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Clint to come blazing in to claim what was his, to make her pay with her body for all the kindnesses he’d bestowed. After all, she was his property, his ill-conceived early Christmas gift from his psychotic brother.Max laid his head on her lap, and she absently stroked the soft, gold fur. He’d become her shadow these past few weeks, as if checking to make sure she was okay and then reporting back to his master with a daily status update. It had take
THE MAFIA AND THE ARTIST CHAPTER THIRTY SIX
Genevieve had been lying in bed tossing and turning for close to an hour when there was a knock on the door."Clint?” she said as she approached, wrapping a robe around her. She was a split second from opening it when she heard a drunk voice on the other end.“You stupid cunt,” Raffalle slurred from the other side. “I ought to kill you. Do you know the trouble you’ve caused for this family? You owe him gratitude and whatever fucked-up shit he’s into for stepping in to save you.”Genevieve backed away, stumbling over the foot of the bed in her attempt to get to the intercom.A groggy Demetri answered when she pressed the button. “Yes, Miss Newton ?”“Raffalle is outside my door, drunk,” she whispered.Demetri became alert, and the touch of annoyance evaporated from his voice. “It’ll be taken care of.”A few minutes later there was arguing on the other side of the door and then silence and then another knock. This time,Genevieve didn’t make a move, having learned that lesson—almo
THE MAFIA AND THE ARTIST CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN
“ Genevieve ? What are you doing here?”He was still a few steps down from her. Enough that she had space to get up, so she did. She ran up the rest of the stairs, down the hallways, through the entryway, and up another flight to the east wing. She locked the door behind her even though it was useless.That other woman knew Genevieve had been there. What must she think? Was she going to be angry about it? Embarrassed?A moment later, the key turned in the lock and Clint stepped into the room, sucking all the air out. Snowball and Squish hid under the bed. Whether they were responding to his energy or her fear, Genevieve couldn’t be sure.She eyed the cane firmly clasped in Clint’s hand. This could be the moment he lost control. She dropped to her knees, her legs not able to support her in the face of what might come next. She held her arms defensively in front of her. “Please, I’m sorry...”He looked down, as if only now noticing he still held the cane. He crossed the room and se
THE MAFIA AND THE ARTIST CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT
Clint descended the stairs into the dungeon to find Miss Fin sitting on the red leather couch against the wall, her feet pulled up with her. Shehadn’t bothered to get dressed, but had put down a towel from the bathroomto sit on.She looked up when he entered the room, and he felt a moment’s guilt for what he was about to do. Fin was the whole package, and if not for Genevieve, he might have tried to see what could develop. But taking hisownership of Genevieve to the next level had become an all-consuming obsession.Her consent upstairs had been given with a large amount of fear, but an equal amount of dignified determination. He was almost tempted to call itoff again, but he needed this. How could he know what she could and couldn’t handle if he didn’t give her the chance?“I’m not going to see you again, am I?” Fin asked. Hearing Genevieve crying on the stairs was all she’d needed to start putting pieces together.“We keep missing each other. I’m with someone or you are. Pe
THE MAFIA AND THE ARTIST CHAPTER THIRTY NINE
Genevieve’s appetite had fled the moment he’d said he was taking her to thedungeon. She was glad he hadn’t forced her to eat dinner because she was sure she wouldn’t be able to keep it down.For the past week she’d been on edge, her appetite shrinking each day.If Clint had noticed, he hadn’t said anything. Each day she woke wondering if today was the day. She wasn’t like those other women. She couldn’t do this.The reality of what was coming should have made her hate him. It should have wiped away any residual attraction or fuzzy emotion. If it could have, she might have begged to be released from her promise. Even if itmeant she’d never have love or companionship, it would protect her from the things downstairs.But she still felt for him, and watching him take other women wouldonly kill her by degrees. When he’d pulled her into his arms, he was the safest person in the world. She’d almost forgotten he was the cause of her angst.When he opened that metal door, she thought
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THE MAFIA AND THE ARTIST CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN
Five months later Clint slept well and rose early to use the gym at his house before leaving for the office. He had several meetings this morning, both business and charitable affairs. He was overseeing the building of a state of the art residential centre for the disabled and it was very close to completion. He was very happy with it and looking forward to its opening.He was the first to arrive. He saw Rafalle come in behind him. Once they had all arrived he held a quick team meeting with the brokers, ensuring everything was running smoothly and he was up to speed. He opened Genevieve’s door. “How is your head today?”“Oh, much better, thank you.”“Good.” He left her to her work, no time for anything else, though it occupied his mind constantly. Genevieve was pleased he had come in, happy that things still seemed to be ok between them. She has kept her pregnancy from him because she had feared he wasn't ready , somehow he found out she was hiding something and he has been cold t
THE MAFIA AND THE ARTIST CHAPTER FORTY SIX
Clint sat in his den with Raffalle over copious amounts of alcohol.“Well?”Since the previous day, he’d been a crazed lunatic, intent on revengeand blood and death for the bullets that had been meant for him but had hitthe woman he loved instead.“It was one of Dogan Hampster men. When I caught up to him, he wouldn’t talk.Brady and I had to overpower him and tie him down. It took hours before Igot the full story.”“And?”“You won’t like it. Beatrice told him what you did to Alva’shusband and how you were going to settle down with Genevieve and stop all business .”Clint paced the floor, regret and the weight of responsibility crushinghim. Beatrice should never have been at their family Christmas. But even so,if he hadn’t played with her, used her body and screwed with her mind, shemight not have gone to one of his business men set on instigating violence.“I know Beatrice is your best friend and you and Beatrice have history,but she’s a loose cannon. She’s da
THE MAFIA AND THE ARTIST CHAPTER FORTY FIVE
Genevieve stood at the back of the rows of chairs with her veil in place, abouquet of white roses in her hands. The wedding was all white. Whitechairs. White flowers. White candles. A white runner on the ground for herto walk on. The only thing besides the tuxedos that weren’t white were theclothing of the guests and her bright red hair.The reception, by contrast, had been planned under large tents withJapanese lanterns and bright jewel tones. It reminded Genevieve of the Wizard ofOz where everything went from black and white to color, and it gave her thesmallest shred of hope that her life with Clint would be in color.Raffalle had offered to walk her down the aisle. He stood next to herlooking more like an aging bodyguard than a father figure.He leaned close to her ear. “I think you know a lot more about thisfamily than you should.” Her back went rigid. Raffalle was the type of man who would shootyou on any day of the year, be it your birthday, your graduati
THE MAFIA AND THE ARTIST CHAPTER FORTY FOUR
Genevieve sat in front of a mirror in the many-windowed room in the eastwing. Her wedding veil lay before her on the vanity table.Alva hadoffered to help her get ready, but it was only a ruse to try to talk Genevieve out ofmarrying her Clint . It was anathema to her that Clint should be happy afterkilling her husband.“I know Clint is very charming, but you know what he did toElliott . What makes you think you’re safe with him?”As if Genevieve needed more things to fear. Though Clint hadn’t harmed her since that one night, it always existed as a possibility now.“Clint loves me,” she said. It hurt to say it because he’d never uttered the words, and she had no reason to believe it. But people assumedmarriage was about love, and if she didn’t speak in terms of romance and candy that his sister could relate to, someone might see through the whole ploy. And they were so close to the end.“Clint loves Clint .”Clint held back the urge to cry as Alva gave voice to her grea
THE MAFIA AND THE ARTIST CHAPTER FORTY THREE
Clint’s erection had grown physically painful, but he’d gagged her andwasn’t ready to replace the gag with his cock yet. Tears streamed down herface as he laid down lines of welts across her ass with the cane. He neededto make her cry more. She had to earn her pleasure with tears. Enough timehad passed for that to be the price.The gag frightened her, still, which drove him harder to use it. She needn’t fear. He knew when enough was enough with her. He’d beencareful and exercised restraint. Each time the cane came down, she wincedin a way that both made him want to comfort her and hit her again to watchthat reaction… the intense expression of pain on her face, the tears that rolled down, and the lovely welt as it bloomed so quickly into those sharp red lines with the groove he loved to run his tongue along.He knew what the cane felt like. Though, used properly, it didn’t oftenbreak skin, the hard rap of a thin dowel of rattan or steel always left aprofound impress
THE MAFIA AND THE ARTIST CHAPTER FORTY TWO
Genevieve , did you know that a lot of what we call pain is about expectation? When you expect something to hurt a lot, and you tense allyour muscles, it hurts more. If you can relax and flow with it, it hurts less.Think of yourself like a stream flowing softly over rocks. The jagged edgesof the rocks don’t hurt the water, it just flows.” He allowed his voice to drop an octave as he spoke, becoming softer and less harsh, lulling her into a sense of safety.The music he’d selected fit well with the imagery he fed into her mind.He spoke quietly about water and flow and relaxing while he let his hands trail over her back, still wrapped in the warm cocoon of the blanket.He continued to speak as he went to the thermostat to raise it a couple of degrees. As the room warmed, he took the blanket away. She tensed, but not as much as before, so he poured some oil onto his hands to allow his skin to slide more easily against hers.He started at her neck, then worked down her back and
THE MAFIA AND THE ARTIST CHAPTER FORTY ONE
Weeks passed. Clint healed. They returned to the world upstairs.He watched her across the table at dinner—her cheeseburger special.He didn’t know how she made them taste like they’d come right off arestaurant grill.Genevieve pretended to be consumed with the task of swirling a steak fry in a giant glob of ketchup on her plate.“I’ll speak to Raffalle . He might agree to release you if I convince him you aren’t a threat to the family. And I’ll smooth things over with your boss, so you won’t have to worry about him, either. To everyone else, I’ll say webroke off the engagement.”Genevieve’s ring glittered in the kitchen light. Clint hadn’t insisted she wear it all the time, but she had. And every time he saw it on her hand, he became more convinced she wanted their engagement to be real.But her happy ending came at a dark price… a price Clint felt increasingly guilty asking her to pay, no matter how much he wanted to keep her locked away in the glass room. If that night in
THE MAFIA AND THE ARTIST CHAPTER FORTY
The eerie music played on as they lay in bed. Some of the songs she recognized, some she didn’t. There couldn’t be more than an hour on the record. Hadn’t they been down here months? Years? But it must have been less than an hour. Was time even real? The curtain had been pulled back to reveal the void where every second was eternity, and there was no way back out again to where time marched on like obedient linear soldiers.She’d tried to prepare herself for the hitting, but when Clint bent her over and fucked her instead while she was too scared to be turned on, itbrought everything home. She was his property. She didn’t want this, but he’d been in the grip of something she didn’t feel strong enough to breakthrough. The Clint that acknowledged her wouldn’t be the one she thought she’d fallen in love with.Whatever romantic fantasies she’d had of love between them scattered and faded into the empty air. Why did it have to be like this?And to allow him to kiss her like that… to r
THE MAFIA AND THE ARTIST CHAPTER THIRTY NINE
Genevieve’s appetite had fled the moment he’d said he was taking her to thedungeon. She was glad he hadn’t forced her to eat dinner because she was sure she wouldn’t be able to keep it down.For the past week she’d been on edge, her appetite shrinking each day.If Clint had noticed, he hadn’t said anything. Each day she woke wondering if today was the day. She wasn’t like those other women. She couldn’t do this.The reality of what was coming should have made her hate him. It should have wiped away any residual attraction or fuzzy emotion. If it could have, she might have begged to be released from her promise. Even if itmeant she’d never have love or companionship, it would protect her from the things downstairs.But she still felt for him, and watching him take other women wouldonly kill her by degrees. When he’d pulled her into his arms, he was the safest person in the world. She’d almost forgotten he was the cause of her angst.When he opened that metal door, she thought
