Chapter 5

LEILA

.

.

His words hung in the air, heavy and stifling.

They came his fingers, trailing, from the middle of my collar bone, down the valley between my breasts, his touch like a red metal branding iron—hot against my skin. It was like he was marking me—claiming me.

Damien’s gaze remained on me as his fingers continued down until they stopped a few inches above the thong line.

He left that place untouched. But, somehow it burned hotter than places he had touched.

My breath trembled in my lungs and my logic began to waver, breaking beneath his stare.

But I couldn’t—couldn’t do it. Not just because of what he would do to me. But because this was Damien.

The boy I grew up with. The boy who used to be caring and soft. Who wouldn’t dare hurt a fly?

But that boy was nowhere to be found, no matter how deep I looked into his eyes. The man that stood before was a stranger…a stranger with a familiar face. That was what Damien had become.

Accepting his deal was like dining with the devil and we knew that never ends well.

Perhaps if I pretended—acted dumb—maybe, just maybe I could escape this ugly fate.

My throat tightened and my gaze faltered. But I managed to hold it. “What exactly do you want from me?” I forced out, bolstering my voice.

Damien’s lips curled upwards, and his fingers dropped. Dropped to that part that was left untouched. My inside clenched, knocking the oxygen out of my lungs.

“You’re not a child anymore.” His voice sank—too low. Too velvety.

I hated it. How I found his voice soothing, even after he threw me into this nightmare.

“That can’t happen,” I muttered, followed by a gulp—a constricting gulp. “You’re like a brother to me.” I served the words.

His reaction was instant. His jaw ticked. His fingers combed through his hair and his eyes rolled—charming. Unfairly frustrating.

A ragged chuckle, one without humor, threaded out of him. “I’ve never thought of you as a sister, Leila. Not when we were kids. Not now. Maybe a friend. But a sister.” A sharp snort and his voice dipped. “No never.”

My stomach coiled.

“And besides,” he continued his tone now rougher. “We’ve been apart for eight years. Almost nine. So tell me…” He stepped too close, his body almost brushing against mine. “How the hell do you look at me and see a brother?”

When nothing came out of me. Not even a breath out of my nostril. Damien tucked my hair behind, exposing my ears.

“Fine, I’ll spell it out for you.” He leaned in, his face brushing against mine, raising all the invisible hair in my body. His breath hot against the tip of my ears. “I want you.”

I shoved him back, my breath heavy. “I’ll never ever sell myself to you.” I sucked in a sharp breath. “I can manage stripping. That’s just looking. No one’s touching me.”

Damien’s expression went blank, but his voice darkened.  “You’re fine with men looking at you?”

His hands flew to my coat, attempting to yank it off. My fingers instinctively clutched at the fabric, fighting to keep it on.

“You’re okay with men staring at you in this state?” His narrowed gaze pinned me in place.

My chest stung. “Whose fault is that?” I spat. “You’re the one who forced me into this.”

His eyes flared, like a scorching sun on a summer afternoon. “I didn’t put you in this situation. Your father did.” His words slapped the air. “I’m the one giving you a choice.”

“A choice?”

“Yes.” Damien gazed down at me.

“By doing this?”

“So you rather let other men stare at you.”

This time, there was something about his tone that made my breath hitched.

“Fine.”

Before I knew it, Damien’s hands wrapped around me, my body flung over his body like I was as light as the air.

“Damien.”  I struggled.

His grip on my thighs tightened, almost tearing into me. And when his lips parted his voice came harsh—guttural.

“Don’t call me that.” He matched down the hallway. “I am no longer Damien Smith. I’m Leonardo Alvaro.”

A chill transversed through my bent spine.

Once outside the club, Damien opened the car door and shoved me into the backseat. He rounded the car and slipped into the driver's seat.

I jerked up. “Where are you taking me?” My heart racing, competing in the marathon of panic.

His fingers strangled the wheel. “I’m taking you to where you belong.” Damien shifted the gear. Too violent. “You wanted to be with other men, right?”

The car hurtled forward.

“Fine let’s take you to them.”

.

.

After a fifteen-minute drive, the car came to a rough stop in front of a brothel.

Damien swung open the car door and yanked me out. His fist burnt faint pain against my wrist.

As he dragged me towards the entrance, I screamed. “Damien, please. Please don’t do this to me.”  My pleas tore through the cold air.

Wrenching me forward, he gritted. “You want to be with other men? This is your chance.”

“No.” I shook my head, my feet grating against the tarred floor, peeling its sole.

“This is where you’ll work, he continued, voice glacial. “You stay here, do what you have to. Once you earn the money back, you’re free.”

Free.

The word pounded in my head, mockingly. We both knew I wouldn’t leave this place the same way. Not whole. I’d become a shell if I were lucky.

Panic gripped every cell I was made of. The men here wouldn’t just look at me. They would touch me. Violate me.

I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think—at least not straight.

 Accepting being with him was better than being in the house, I inhaled—a painful breath. “I’ll do it. I’ll do it.” My voice quivered as my pride    “I’ll be yours. My breath…Hair. Heart. They all belong to you.”

Damien freed me, before turning. His gaze met mine. His eyes were empty…pitched black.

I wondered: how did this boy who was all sunrays turn into a cold abyss?

What had my mother done that made him hate me so much?

“Good girl,” Damien murmured. “Once we get home, I don’t need to remind you. Go upstairs. Take a shower. Lay on the bed.” His voice smooth and silky, yet it cut as sharp as a cruel blade.

His eyes dipped into a dark hue, heavy with desire. “And wait for Pappy.”