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Rachel

“Rachel! How lovely to hear from you! We’ve been ever so worried about you.”

“Thanks, Mrs Geller.” Macbeth had inspired me. We lived in the age of technology. It was easy to find their home number with a quick Google search. I had actually got it from an ad they had posted for a new au pair.

I don’t know why that had hurt, but it did.

“How have you been?”

Ahh, she’s dropped the whole “call me Elizabeth”, I see!

“Probably better than you’ve been thinking. I’m still here, aren’t I?”

“Wonderful!”

Nothing about this was wonderful, you stupid old cow.

“How’s Joseph?” I said, my heart pounding. I picked at the skin around my nails, having already chewed them beyond repair.

Just get through this small talk, and then you can ask the important questions.

“Oh, you know kids! They’re resilient little things.

He stopped crying for you after the first week, and seems well adjusted to his new au pair.

Though I have to say,” she said, lowering his voice as though we were old friends gossiping.

“She’s quite stern. She even told Mr Geller off. Can you believe?”

I could believe that.

“She’s also much older. We thought it would be best. A young woman would remind Joseph of you too much. But they get along well enough.”

What a complete joke that was. She didn’t want her husband lusting after another young blonde, more like! She had never done anything for Joseph’s best interests.

“Great!” I said, faking enthusiasm. “Hey, so I was just wondering, did you ever get around to sending my things to me?”

“Things?” Mrs Geller repeated, sounding a million miles away and bored with our conversation.

“My clothes, my documents… my passport?”

“But Rachel,” she gave me a pitiful laugh, as though I was stupid. “How could we have sent your things without knowing where you are?”

“Macbeth gave you the address, didn’t he?”

“He wrote down an address, but I’d rather not repeat it, thank you very much.”

“Humour me.”

“I shall not. But pass a message on to that young man for me, will you? Vulgar sex references like sixty-nine dine out street, dogging harbour, are not funny.”

For fuck’s sake, Macbeth.

“He’s an idiot. Do you still have my things?” My tone was almost hysterical as my anxiety grew.

“Of course. Mr Geller suggested we post them to the diner, but Lord knows what state they’d end up in. You can give me your address now, if you like?”

“Actually… could you hold on to them a bit longer for me?”

“How much longer? We can’t keep your belongings forever, Rachel. That man of yours made it clear you wouldn’t be returning, and Joseph has just started bonding with Mrs—”

“I’m not asking you to keep them forever. I know I’m not coming back, that’s not what I’m trying to say. I just don’t know how long I’ll be in this house for.”

“You’re moving?” She said, sounding suspicious.

“With Dante,” I hurried to add. I don’t know why.

I guess I figured nothing was set in stone, so there was no point risking rumours getting back to Dante.

“By the time you send my things, I might not be here, and then I’ll be tracking them down all over again.

Could you just hold on to them for a week, maximum? ”

“I suppose so…”

“Hold on,” I said, an idea coming to mind. “I could actually really use those documents – you know, for ID, for mortgage applications and such. If I give you the address of the post office, could you send them there?”

“I can’t send your documents to you? Rachel…tell me the truth. Are you okay?”

“I am,” I said, ridiculous tears springing to my eyes. “There are just dogs here. I don’t want them getting to the post before me. Do you have a pen? I’ll give you the address.”

Clothes could be replaced. Hell, Dante had already bought me more than enough. But I’d feel much more secure knowing my documents were at least on the same continent as I was.

“Up,” Dante demanded, kicking open my bedroom door, frightening me half to death.

“I beg your fucking pardon?” I scowled, remaining at the vanity table.

“Up. We have somewhere to be, and I’m sick of you moping in this room all the time.”

I gestured ahead of me, drawing Dante’s attention to the makeup I had been applying.

“I had no intention of ‘moping in this room all the time,’” I mimicked him.

“As you can see, I was already getting prepared for plans of my own.” Not that I had planned anything exciting.

I just didn’t want Dante coming in here and accusing me of exactly what he had just accused me of.

I had to at least look like I had a life away from him, even if the most exciting plan I could think of was to walk far enough away to seem busy and then walk back.

“Cancel them.”

I locked eyes with him in the mirror, pausing the lipstick halfway to my lips. “Well, that won’t be happening.”

“Did I make it sound like a request?”

“Did I make it sound like there was room for negotiation?”

“Rachel, you’re coming with me. If I once again have to satisfy your victim complex by carrying you over my shoulder, I’ll do it. I’d rather not. But those are your choices. Meet me downstairs in ten minutes, or I’ll come collect you.”

He walked back out of the room and shut the door calmly. I swirled around on the stool and threw the lipstick at the empty space where he had just been.

Arrogant bastard!

I knew just as well as he did that I’d be downstairs. Because I knew as well as he did that he didn’t dish out threats. I’d been humiliated more than enough by him carrying me through this godforsaken village.

“Not a chance,” I hissed, turning on my feet and going to leave. Dante blocked the door, my face smashing against his solid chest. He grabbed the top of my arms and spun me back around, pushing me forward.

“Yes, you are.”

I dug my heels in, in a useless attempt to stop him from pushing me any further towards that fucking bed.

“I hardly think so.”

“Everyone has one.”

“I don’t. Bee doesn’t.”

“Bee is a child, and you will in half an hour.”

“I won’t,” I huffed, pushing my entire body backwards. He scooped me under my arms, forcing me to lean back into him, making me bend my legs, removing all the strength I had been using to dig in my heels.

Nice going, Rachel!

“Dante, I really, really don’t want to do this.” He pushed me forward, causing me to fall over the leather bed. I scrambled to push myself up, but he was quicker than I was. He grabbed hold of my ass and pushed it up onto the bed.

I quickly flopped over, but my hands were grabbed and pinned above my head.

“Of fucking course you’re here!” I hissed at Vienna as he pinned my arms.

“Always happy to help, hair growth buddy!”

“I’ll shave your fucking beard off, mark my words.”

“That’s an unnecessary escalation of threats, Rachel. I’m hurt.”

“Fuck off!”

Dante grabbed hold of my ankles and, after a nod to Vienna, they flipped me over onto my stomach. I thrust my ass out, my back arching in an attempt to get away, but Dante just delivered a painful slap to my ass and laughed at me. “We’ve got a wild one, Ven.”

“You’re a beautiful girl, Rachel, but threesomes were for my twenties. Put your ass down.”

“Fuck the pair of you,” I spat at them, fighting to get out of their hold.

“I let you down gently. Please stop propositioning me. I’m just a man. I’m easily worn down.”

They both laughed some more, and I silently cursed them both straight to hell and stilled my movements, knowing I was defeated.

That was, until the man came out of the backroom, carrying all sorts of scary looking tools, and I once again fought like a hellcat.

“Rachel!” Dante snapped, pinning the back of my knees with his elbows, leaning his torso on my legs. “You’re being fucking ridiculous. It’s just a tattoo!”

“A tattoo I don’t want!”

“It’s part of the initiation. Everyone has one!”

“Bee—”

“Don’t you fucking dare say Bee doesn’t have one. That’s a ridiculous argument and you know it.”

“Are you just going to allow this?” I hissed at the tattooist. “Don’t you need written consent?”

“You going to revoke my license, sweetie?” He muttered sarcastically.

“I might have known you were another Dante lapdog.”

“Is it wise to piss off the man who’s about to permanently mark you?” He said, brandishing the tattoo gun in my face. “What we doing?” He said, directing the question to Dante.

“Club patch. Make it pretty, just like her.” I spun around in time to see him wink at Vienna.

“Sweet talking me won’t help!”

“You can decide where it goes,” the tattooist said. “Since you’re such a control freak.”

“It’s not fucking going anywhere!”

“I’m not familiar with that body part.”

“Shoulder,” Dante said firmly. “Nice and big.”

“Like fuck!” I roared, straining harder than ever.

I could feel my face growing red, but Vienna and Dante barely seemed to be breaking a sweat pinning me down.

“Just a small one, please,” I begged, realising this was happening, whether or not I liked it.

“Somewhere on my neck or something. Or my wrist. I’ve heard wrists don’t hurt. ”

“Rachel, you’re not hiding the club patch on your wrist like you’re ashamed of us. No old lady of mine is going to be ashamed of who she is and where she belongs. You can have it on your shoulder or plastered over your face. It’s up to you.”

“I’d go with the shoulder,” Vienna said. “Don’t want to ruin your pretty little face.”

“So you admit that a tattoo would ruin me!”

“I’d imagine it would keep a permanent scowl on your face. I don’t want to see that every day. It’s depressing.”

“Hey!” I snapped at the tattooist, seeing him dipping his needles in ink. “Don’t you be getting things ready! I do not agree with this.”

“I’m doing it, anyway. I suggest you stay still,” he muttered, coming closer to me. “One wrong move and this will be ruined. It’ll look as pretty as you allow me to let it look. Make your choice, Rachel.”

I stilled, knowing I was defeated. I closed my eyes, hissing as soon as the needle touched my skin.

I’d kill Dante for this.