Trapped in his End Game (Series)

ADRIANA

When Vince leaves, I lock the door behind him and wrap my arms around myself. I saunter into the living room and collapse onto the couch. My eyes close as I sink into the couch and try to relax, but Carmine’s fingers itch at my throat and my eyes fly open, heart pounding. As much as I know that Vince is more than capable of getting rid of Carmine, I still feel a stab of anxiety when I think about them fighting. Carmine is capable, too, and strong, ruthless, with an edge of madness.

I shake my head and get up, wandering around the house.

What should I do while Vince is gone?

Like anything can take my mind off him.

My eyes wander from the TV to the bathroom attached to the bedroom.

Maybe a nice hot soak in the bathtub.

My shoulders loosen up just thinking about being surrounded by fragrant, warm bubbles. I pad into the huge bathroom barefooted and smile when I notice that Vince kept all my bath products. He was just waiting for me to return. I lean over the edge and turn the knobs on the tap. A strong, white stream of water fills the bathtub. I take the purple bottle filled with lavender bubble bath and I pour it near the jet. Within seconds, the bath fills with white foams and the floral smell rises from the water. I strip the clothes from my body painfully, like peeling bandages from a wound, and then I turn the taps off, shutting the roar of the water, and gingerly slip inside.

I hiss softly as the heat burns my skin and I sink into the water gradually. My hair fans out over the edge of the clawfoot tub and I stretch my feet so that the tips of my toes peek out of the foamy water.

Man, I needed this.

The heat from the bath soothes my muscles, warming my neck where there’s still a bit of soreness. My wet arms sting with the cold air when I raise my elbows out of the water. I slip them back inside the hot water, shuddering as the warmth envelopes my skin

Clip, clip, clip, clip.

A soft sound behind me turns the hot water into ice. My heart pounds against my chest, unable to deny the crawling, sick feeling that I just managed to bury.

That’s not Vince.

Then a low male voice makes a hissing sound. I whirl around, the water sloshing over the tub as my eyes move up the grey tiles to a pair of loafers and slacks that almost seem to blend in the color scheme of the bathroom, and finally to a handsome face with a bleeding stare.

I scream and cross my arms over my chest as Carmine walks into the bathroom, wearing a sadistic grin.

“Oh, no. Don’t cover yourself on my account, please. I’m enjoying the view.”

What should I do?

I shiver in the warm water. “What are you doing here?”

The grin fades from his face. “I could ask you the same fucking question.”

My lips tremble as I fail to come up with a good lie. I glance towards the door but I know I’ll never make it. I’m naked, wet, and confined in this bathroom. He’ll shoot me. He’ll shoot me right in this bathtub. I imagine him raising an arm, foam flying into the air as he fires into my chest.

“Well, well, well. I came here to kill Cesare and instead I find you here, naked for me. What a pleasant surprise.”

“Carmine-”

His blue eyes flash dangerously. “Don’t you dare. You’re a worthless whore, just like your mother.”

I swallow my questions about my mother. He looks furious enough to hit me. “I’m sorry, Carmine. I’m weak.”

“Yes you are,” he says, eyes blazing. “Luckily for you, I’m in love.”

What?

Oh, God. My body trembles as if he just uttered a threat. He doesn’t love me; he just thinks he does. Wrapping hands around a woman’s throat-that isn’t love. It’s abuse. It’s plain to me, seeing him standing there, that he can’t tell the difference.© NôvelDrama.Org - All rights reserved.

He’s close enough so that all other thoughts vanish and I can only think of my own blinding fear, the sickening dread as he kneels to my level and runs his fingers over the edge of the bathtub.

He rolls his sleeve before he sticks his arm inside the foam and tugs on the chain. The drain sucks the water noisily as Carmine’s wet hand trails up my back and shoulders. Then he stands, watching the water spiral into the drain as I hug my knees, covering myself.

“Carmine, this is-”

“Get up.”

Fuck no. I don’t want to get up. I don’t want to go anywhere near him.

He kicks the side of the tub impatiently. “Get the fuck up or I’ll give you another set of bruises.”

The voice leaving his throat sounds nothing like him. “What happened to you? What happened to the sweet man I met in the casino?”

The question seems to throw him. Carmine blinks and his contemptuous expression softens somewhat, but he recovers quickly. “He found out that his girlfriend was cheating on him. If I have to ask again, I’ll-”

I stand up quickly, legs shivering in the cold. His eyes follow my curves greedily for a moment before he rips a blanket from the hanger and holds it out in front of me. I extend an arm to grab it, but he snatches it back. Anger rustles in my chest as I step out of the tub, arms still wrapped around my breasts and groin. The white towel wraps around my back as he pats me down, wiping the water from my limbs. His eyes are bloodshot, but his movements resonate with deadly precision and barely restrained calm. He looks like he hasn’t slept in several days.

The towel drops to the floor.

No, please.

The backs of my legs hit the tub as he closes the distance between us. The coarseness of his suit rubs against my skin unpleasantly as his breath billows over my neck. His heavy eyes lick me from head to toe as he wraps an arm around my bare waist. My skin is still damp enough to make wet spots on his suit. I think of sex and suddenly a freakish hollowness opens up inside me.

I beg his eyes. “Please let me go.”

He ignores that. “Put your arms down. I want to see you. All of you.”

No, I don’t want to.

A sick feeling starts to worm its way into my stomach. I know where this is going but I desperately don’t want to think about it, because to say it out loud would make it final. Complete.

My voice trembles, higher in pitch than usual. “Please don’t make me.”

But Carmine regards me with cruel indifference. His hand runs along my collarbone, his palm just bushing over the top of my breasts. “I haven’t made you do anything yet, but I should have. I should have fucked you that first night you came over to my house.”

His hands encircle my arms and pull them away from my breasts, and I feel horribly exposed. He sighs as he slowly takes them in his hands, gently kneading the flesh.

“You have amazing tits. No wonder that asshole had such a hard time leaving you alone.” He pinches one of my nipples hard, watching my face with a leer for my reaction.

His hands feel cold and invading. When he pinches me, I feel pain and I flinch from his touch.

Please God, let Vincent stop this. Please!

I stand like a statue, too frightened to speak, and then he takes me in his arms and his mouth descends over mine. His tongue shoves inside my mouth, and it feels slimy and not at all erotic. I blindly step forward as he drags me, my mouth and lips unmoving. My head slams against the grey wall as Carmine shoves me forward and I cry out in pain.

Then his hand gropes my breast hard while the other reaches down my waist. He moans into my mouth as he explores my body and I try to go away inside. To not feel anything. I focus on the feeling of the cold walls digging into my spine. He shifts his body and his erection digs into my abdomen and I’m seconds from losing it.

I move my head to the side, away from his mouth. “Carmine, get off me!”

His hand is like a vice over my jaw as he forcefully turns my head back. “Shut the fuck up.”

His lips move to my neck and he bites down hard. His teeth break through my skin and I scream in pain.

“Did you think you could hold out your pussy for all those weeks? I tried to be nice. To be a gentleman, and then you fuck Cesare behind my back?”

“I didn’t-”

His hand wraps around my throat as he screams in my face. “Shut up!”

His other hand, still palming my breast, digs in painfully and twists. Then he reaches lower and lower, until he’s between my legs. His middle finger grazes my clit and he painfully forces it through.

“No!”

Carmine pulls away, looking incredibly wounded for a moment, and then his hand makes a sharp movement. He slaps my face so hard even my eye burns with pain, and then I’m shoved to the floor.

“You want to behave like a whore, then I’ll treat you like one.”

The sickening sound of his belt unwinding from his slacks fills me with gut-wrenching pain.

“NO, CARMINE!”

My screams echo on the tiles as I seem to watch from above as his slacks drop down, just enough to free him from the confines of his pants. I turn around and crawl towards the door, tears blinding my vision, but he grabs my waist and slams his hand on my back. The sharp blow resonates inside deeply, injuring my kidneys. I thrash around until I’m on my back and Carmine kneels above me, furious, and his cock in his hand.

“Please don’t hurt me!”

Something breaks inside him. The cruel look on his face shatters and confusion lightens his face. He looks around the bathroom as if he just woke up in an unfamiliar place, and then he shoves himself in his pants. Relief floods my veins and I sob even harder when he zips his pants.

Oh, God. It came so close. I was going to be-I can’t even think about the word.

“Fuck.” His face burns red as I rip myself away from him and curl into a ball, hugging myself. “Jesus, I’m sorry.”

Carmine takes the towel from the floor and approaches me cautiously, wrapping it around my back as I clutch it firmly over my chest. His knees hit the tiles with a loud thud and all of a sudden he pulls me into his chest.

“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

Suddenly his touch is no longer cruel, it’s warm. Protective.

Get the fuck away from me, you psycho.

His hand pins my head to his chest while the other soothes my back.

“Adriana,” he says in a choking voice, “I never wanted to hurt you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything that I’ve done.”

My chest still shakes with sobs, but I let him hold me. Anything to keep him from raping me.

“Vince!” I scream. “Vince, help me!”

He’s nowhere around, but I couldn’t hold it in any longer.

Carmine’s arm snakes around my neck and holds me uncomfortably. The vein in my neck throbs uncomfortably against his arm. Then he closes his arm around my in a V and the other side of my neck feels tight.

“Carmine, I can’t-”

“Shhh.”

My head swims as the blood from my neck is choked. I dig my nails into his thick arm as hard as I can, but every struggle seems to drag me underneath. Blackness.