Lies & Lullabies (19 page)

The music vibrated through me as it filled the room with an intense and heavy mood. It didn’t matter if I missed a note or my timing was off. The butchered song transported me away from the pretty prison where I was forced to do ugly things I rationalized were to save my own life.
 

I imagined I was somewhere I had never been—somewhere where happiness surrounded me and I was free of everything that tied me to evil. The more I thought of a place far above the hell, the more fluid the notes came to me.

Concluding the piece, I took a breath, feeling a little like a version of myself before my world was ruled by a despotic man.

Slow clapping gave me a start and drew my eye to the doorway. Catch stood at the doorway, shirtless in jogging pants. His hair was a mess that somehow worked as some sort of style as it fell away from his face. He looked more relaxed than I’d ever seen him, unassuming and genteel.

I couldn’t help what I thought. Internally, things were shifting and I no longer knew what my feelings were, but they were there, deep under the surface. At my core, something grew and continued to thrive under Catch’s nurturing and manipulation. I both shunned and welcomed his presence.

My fingers slid from the keys and settled on my lap.

“That was beautiful, Sugar. Don’t allow me to stop you. Keep playing.”

“I was done.” With every soft pad of his bare feet against the wood floor as he neared me, my body began to react. I clasped my hands, pushing them deeper into my lap to steady the trembles.

“The piece is familiar. I’ve heard it once before when I attended a gala years ago.” He recalled with subtle glee. “The pianist later played the piece for me in private. It’s a very beautiful and complicated piece. Probably one of the only two good things she would ever do. Between the two, I’d have to say you played it better than she ever could.”

I sat there in silence, staring at the keys, angry that he infiltrated the one little piece of purity I tried to hold onto.

“You should take that as a very big compliment and thank me.”

I ignored him.
 

In five fast and long strides he was at my side.
 

I jerked up, straightening my spine, prepared to bolt off the bench and leave.
 

He stood at my back firmly clutching my shoulders, forcing me to remain seated on the bench.
 

My fingers began to cramp and rebel. Rage slithered through me, running roughshod over my nerves. My hands trembled as I touched the lukewarm ivory keys.
 

His hands slipped to my neck, surrounding my larynx. His body pushed against me, pressing the pulsing hardness onto my back. He leaned forward, breathing down my scalp. A hand reached up to clasp the edge of the cover from across me.
 

My body became hyperaware and was no longer under my control. A new engineer had taken over the train.

“You can play the most beautiful piece Chopin has to offer. And with every slip of your tongue, you can lie to me. Why don’t you trust me, Simone?”
 
His other hand tightened on my neck and a delicate, soft cadence enticed me with sticky sweet candy.

My head jerked with the motion of his hand brutally pushing down on my neck. “You haven’t given me a reason to trust you.” My words were strangled and breathy. “Tell me you’ll let me go tomorrow, and maybe I will.” I removed my hands from the keys to rest on my lap.

“I told you to keep playing.”

“I can’t play anymore.” I strained through my stifled breaths and clenched teeth. The fiery cinders rifling through my entire being threatened to cleanly burn away my need to fight him at every step.

His palm surrounded my throat and clenched down, allowing me to breathe and swallow with increasing restriction. My neck arced at an awkward and extreme angle until my gaze landed up on his face.

He bent down until his mouth touched my hairline and skirted down to kiss the tip of my nose. “I’ve been nothing but kind to you.” He moved his supple lips down and gently kissed my mouth, filling me with confusion and a contradiction of emotions, weakening me at the fracture point.
 

“I could be kinder if you appreciated what I’ve done with you and for you.” His hand slid down my chest and cupped my breast. “Why are you so desperate to leave this beautiful life I’m giving you?” Through the thin material of my shirt, my nipples responded to the soft touch of his hand. He brushed his fingertips over the tiny nub, pinching and tugging it through the thin cotton.

In the quiet space, my sudden inhale was a sharp and cutting noise. My mouth fell open, wanting to expel a moan. I swallowed with difficulty and sealed my mouth.

He continued to brush his lips against mine, deeming it impossible to breathe. I opened my mouth and his tongue tickled the roof. I closed my legs tightly together as my pussy tingled, clamoring for a reprieve by a piece of Catch.
 

He pulled his mouth from mine. The softness of his lips tickled my nose.

I was cracking, and pissed off with the way I was rapidly losing control of my rebellion. “Please, let me go. I don’t have anything you want, and I can’t do anything for you.”

He parted from me slightly. His blue eyes darkened from the horizon at dawn to a cold midnight sky with every passing silent second. “You’re useful to me and have many things I find value in. There are many more things you can and will do for me. The answer is, no. I won’t let you go.” His words were flooded in a daunting raspiness. “The more you fuck with me by asking to leave me, the more you offer up pieces of yourself to destroy.” A hand slid down my torso, stopping at the crux of my thighs. “Play. No matter what I say to you, never stop playing.”

With a delay, I extended my hands. As my eyes leveled down to the piano, I caught sight of him clutching the piano cover with one hand, pulling it to hover over the keys while another massaged the crease in my thigh.
 

“Maybe I’m being unreasonable,” he said with a heavy exhale. “We can play a game. Answer my questions and I’ll give you something you want—something feasible for me to give you. Tell me the names of the people who raised you.”

“What does it matter when you already know?” The angry lilt of my voice fell in sync with the brutal way I assaulted the keys, effortlessly flowing into a more chaotic piece filled with lower notes.
 

“Stop playing.” His command was a prelude to darker actions and a warning.

“You told me not to stop,” I protested, ignoring him.

“And now I’m telling you to stop.”

Was he fucking with me? Was this a test? Whatever maze he decided to plop me down in, I wasn’t sure of the direction to the exit. I kept playing.

Fingers wrapped around my wrist, pulling my hand with enough strength to make me struggle, but not enough to prevent me from touching the keys.
 

The air rushed at my fingers, and I thought the cover was going to come crashing down on my hands. He wrapped his forearm around me, removing my hands, narrowly missing the slam of the cover as it nicked my knuckles.

 
My hands shook when he released his hold on me.
 

“You’re learning quicker than I thought you would.” Breathy words teased my ear.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to expel a thousand different insults at him. Nothing would happen the way I desired it.

He kicked the bench out from beneath me. I misgauged where it landed, tripped, and fell on my ass. I quickly swung the bench around and set it in front of me as though it were a gate, keeping me apart from Catch.

He kicked the bench away from me and bent down on his knees. He crawled up the floor and pulled my legs down until his body laid flat against mine on the floor.
 

He spread my legs with one hand and settled himself between them. His touch was tender as the back of his hand brushed against my cheek and dried a tear, expressing the frustration over my torment under Catch’s grip.

“What I know,” I growled and jerked my ass backward, using my elbows as leverage to slip from underneath him, “is that if you kill me or Deana, since you must know where she is, you’ll lose whatever leverage you have against whoever you’re hoping to fuck over by keeping me here. I don’t know what the fuck you exactly want from me. I don’t care. Threaten me all you want. When I find out your secrets and a way away from you, our next fight will be your last. I already know one.”

He stifled a chortle. “Oh? And what is it you think you know?”

“You’re the boss of the Di Stefano family.”

He clucked his tongue and gave me a skewed grin. “I’m only twenty-eight. I’d be the youngest boss in the syndicate’s history from coast to coast. A man like that doesn’t stay under the radar.”

“But you did because no one knows who you really are, and because you don’t act like one. You don’t delegate. You don’t use your underlings to do your work. You do it yourself, are good at covering your tracks, and obviously know some very powerful people. It makes you underestimated.”

“I fucking love it when you show me how far that intelligence reaches and you formulate your own conclusions. Is that why you’re suddenly scared of me? You know I’m more powerful than your father. You know it’s best if you listen to me. What you still don’t get is why you’re here.” He grabbed my legs and pulled me down. “You’re traveling in the wrong direction, Simone,” he whispered, his menthol scented breath tickling my face.

With a jerk, he widened my legs. His fingertips flirted with my damp slit. His shoulders kept my legs open, and he slid down, blowing invisible rings on my pussy. His fingers slid to my opening and spread my lips apart. As he manipulated my pussy, quiet little sloshing sounds reminded me of how much Catch affected me.

“You smell so sweet,” he hummed. “I can’t wait to taste that sweetness flooding your tight little cunt.”

I bit into my bottom lip hard, hoping I wouldn’t collapse and allow him to have what he wanted. “I’m not going to give you permission.”

“You’re hardly giving me resistance as it is. I showed you, you’re far from formidable competition for me, and you’re internalizing it—feeling it.” He paused for a beat to smile up at me. “Have you ever wondered why I don’t allow you to wear anything underneath the clothes I provided you with?”

“I don’t care.”

“Oh, you do, sweetheart. At this very moment, you understand the reason why.”

“You know what I wonder?” I pushed to project my voice through the hoarseness. “What would happen if I had a video of your
ex-wife
playing in the background when we fought?”

He sat back on his knees pulling me to straddle his lap. My bare pussy brushed against his cock. Only the thin layer of cotton pants stood between us. “You think that’s the secret you can use against me?” Moving his head from left to right, he released his amusement in a low and soft tone. “You think when we sparred, I gave you everything I had? I exerted control over my actions because I didn’t want to seriously hurt you, or kill you. There’s no need to show you the full capacity of my physical fight. I know how to take an opponent down without my fists. Well, I have been doing it with you, haven’t I? I’ve been taking you down from the inside-out.”
 

A slow smile contorted his face and lied to me about his nature. “My ex-wife evokes nothing from me. Even if she did, I don’t act on emotion, like you do.”
 

“Why are you doing this to me?” I whispered, using my arms as a buffer between us. “Why are you punishing me?”

“This isn’t punishment, sweetheart.” Standing with my body wrapped around him, he began to move throughout the house. “I do this to you because you need it.” His low voice barely carried through the space as he transported me upstairs. “You want me to free you.”

-14-

S
PIN
S
PIN
S
UGAR

For the past few days, and only during the very short daylight hours, I was allowed time away from being Catch’s housekeeper in a fucked-up way. I heard soft hums from downstairs, indicating he was working alone at times. He never demanded I join him. At night when he was done, he'd cuddle in bed with me.
 

I hated to think it, or admit it; I had begun to look forward to him holding me at night.

I slowly peered one eye open and then another, finding myself in Catch’s bed alone. I was standing outside myself, watching the breaking unfold and unable to get back in my body and stop it. No matter how hard I tried to jam the facts into my head—a psychopathic killer would eventually turn on me—I wanted to rationalize: he’d never really hurt me, and all the things he had done were to help me.
 

My stupid heart had injected itself into the equation, comforting me with its ignorance.

The bathroom door was ajar and the shower was running.
 

Thinking it was started for me, as Catch tended to do if we arose at the same time, I slid out of bed.
 

Inside the shower, behind the clear glass shower door slightly covered in fog, Catch stood under the shower stream, soaked from head to toe. Rivulets of water dripped down his tan skin, drenching him, darkening the beautiful tattoo. It was the first time I saw how far it reached, and it went…everywhere. The roots wound around and reached his cock, his legs, and his ass. His head bowed forward and his hair fell like an off-black sheet over his forehead, coming to a point. My gaze lingered at the way his rosy lips puckered and the angles of the bones in his face.