Page 5 of Caruso (Vegas Mafia #3)
Chapter Five
Taylor
T he door closes softly behind him, and as the lock turns, my heart is released from its cage and beats wildly inside me.
Fuck, what just happened?
I killed a man. He lay at my feet staring up at me, and I felt nothing but pride. He won’t hurt another woman again. I have saved humanity from a monster, and I love how that empowers me.
I glance around the pretty room, and as prisons go, this one is delightful. I almost can’t believe my luck as I stare at the huge emperor-sized bed with tasteful coverings, more sumptuous than the ones in the hotel room. Luxury on a grander scale.
The carpet is impractical, white and plush, and the simple furnishings contain tasteful objects like lamps and sculptures. There are fresh flowers in a vase on a table near the window, and as I move across, I note the view of the Vegas Strip, lighting the darkness outside .
Beneath me, life carries on, but not for some.
Not for the man who is currently being dealt with by my host. I move away from the view and head into the bathroom, gasping at the sheer size of it.
The tub is freestanding and made of copper, and the low-level lighting bathes the room in a warm glow. It’s almost intimate.
There is a huge mirror that covers one wall and a shower that covers the other.
I could die happy in this room, which could be a possibility because I will not underestimate my jailer.
His reputation precedes him because I researched everything about the Caruso brothers, which is why I came here in the first place. For them.
Yes, I came here for a job alright, and I wonder what they would think if they knew what I really applied for.
With a small smile, I move away from the bathroom and head back into the room, another door attracting my attention.
I open it and note the huge walk-in closet, kitted out with rails and shelves, the dream if you like.
It’s as empty as my heart, and yet a simple white robe hangs from a hook, and as I unzip my uniform and it falls to the floor, I try to make myself at home while Matteo decides my fate.
As I slip into the heated luxury of the bath, I don’t believe I have ever been so happy.
This must be how the other half live and it’s no wonder people beg, steal and borrow to achieve it.
It’s decadence on a huge scale, and I’m loving every minute of it. As I rest my head against the edge of the bath, I close my eyes and let the nightmares wash over my soul.
“TAYLOR!”
I jump as my stepfather’s voice wakes me, the pounding of his footsteps heavy against the floorboards.
“Where are you, girl?”
I begin to shake, terrified at the drunken slur in his words, menacing, promising and frightening.
The door swings open and I scream as he makes for me before I can react, and as he grabs the sheets and tears them from the bed, I lie shivering in the cold light of his fury.
“You were seen with him, Jason Evans, and don’t attempt to deny it.”
I don’t. It would fall on deaf ears anyway because he is hearing what he wants to hear. The fact that Jason is my friend, and nothing more, doesn’t interest him, and as he delivers a resounding strike across my face, tears blind me as well as the pain.
He heaves me over his knee, tearing down my pajamas and raining blows on my body as he punishes me for having a friend.
I sense the swelling of his cock and pray that he doesn’t act on that.
I know it’s coming one day soon. He looks at me differently now.
Since my mother passed. Since his bed lies empty and the cold place beside him hasn’t been filled yet.
The leer on his smile as he orders me to clean on my hands and knees, scrubbing the floor while he stands over me inspecting my work.
The way he bursts into the bathroom while I’m taking a shower and watches me while he uses the toilet.
Raking his eyes over my body suggestively, promising what will happen when he loses control.
He loves the game, the chase if you like, knowing he holds my life in his rough and grubby hands.
He’s a large oaf of a man with a beer belly and a bearded jaw. Six feet tall as he is wide. Tattoos decorate his skin, of which he has a lot.
He pushes me from his knee to the floor and kicks against my ribcage, the blow painful and humiliating. I curl into a ball hoping he will leave, hoping it was enough, and as the air stills, his voice scratches against every nerve I possess.
“You’re becoming a woman, darlin’. Soon you will replace your mother in my bed. Stay away from the boys. I’m warning you. You are mine, and if I hear otherwise, you will wish you had never been born.”
It’s too late for that. That happened when she met him, and I endured the feel of his hands on my skin. The way he groped my ass as I sat on his lap, my mother’s terrified eyes as she watched us, knowing what would happen, unable to stop it.
On the night he burst into my room, I had just turned twelve. Puberty was beckoning along with the day of reckoning, and even then I knew that as soon as the day came, I must be as far away from Carl Bridge as possible.
A loud knock on the bathroom door makes me jump, and Matteo’s voice interrupts my memory.
“Dinner will be served in thirty minutes. Dress for it and meet me in the room furthest from yours.”
I say nothing, and he doesn’t wait for an answer as he leaves, and I sit up in the bath, the hot scented water pouring from my body like a waterfall. Thirty minutes. Dress for it. What in? The sheets from the bed, perhaps?
I vacate the bath and dry myself on the sumptuous towels, and as I peer at my reflection in the mirror, I note the flush to my face that brings it more to life.
She’s in there somewhere. The little girl who believed in fairy tales and Prince Charming.
It was only later I realized that if you want something done, it’s the villain who holds all the cards.
He is what I need right now—they are what I need and so my heart beats with excitement as I sense my opportunity is waiting for me behind the door—the furthest one from my room.