Under Pressure [IAD Agency] (Siren Publishing Classic) (6 page)

Taking off her chef’s jacket, she threw it on a chair as she walked to the bathroom, wanting to soak in the bathtub to ease her sore body, but decided against it since she had to get some sleep. She had a meeting with the Special Events coordinator early in the morning to finalize the plans for wedding being held that night. A sound from behind her had her spinning around, her eyes going wide with shocked horror as something slammed against the side of her head, and she felt herself fall as the world went black.

Waking up, Bella’s head pounded with pain as she opened her eyes. A man sat next to her with one of her knives in his hand. Bella’s eyes were wide with a terrible recognition as the steel gleamed in the faint light. She had never seen this man before, but his eyes, those horrible eyes were glazed with insanity. Bella tried to get up, realizing that her hands were bound to the bed. Her scream was muffled by something he had tied over her mouth. Shocked and frightened, Bella fought against her restraints to no avail, struggling to break free of the ties, her wrists burning as she strained for release.

“Hello, my beautiful little bitch,” he said almost pleasantly, looking down at her, a sick, twisted little smile on his handsome face. He moved the blade in his hand closer to the light, reflecting her own wild eyes back at her. From the moment he spoke, she knew who he was. He was a fan, a man who wrote her letters and called her, praising her talent. Now, she was at his mercy.

“You didn’t think you could cheat on me and get away with it, did you? You”—he stroked the knife slowly across the skin of her neck over and over, making shallow cuts that had her screaming in pain—“are mine, all mine.”

Bella could feel her wrists slick with blood as she tried to free herself from the ropes that held her. She couldn’t understand what he was saying. The pain was too intense.

“You’re a no good, lying, cheating slut. I loved you. How could you do this to me?” What the fuck was he talking about? Terrified, Bella wondered what the hell was going on in his warped, demented mind.

“You are nothing without me. No one. Oh, Bella, you think you are such a big deal, don’t you? God damn it, you are nothing without me. All those letters I wrote to you, pouring my heart out, and you abused that love! Now you won’t even take my phone calls! I know why, it’s that stupid sous chef of yours. How could you? I loved you!” She shook her head, screaming in pain as he cut her again.

“Don’t lie to me! Now you will have to pay. It didn’t have to be this way. We were meant to be together, but you threw that away. All that talent, but no one understands you like I do. No one could love you like I do. You should have come to me when I asked. Now I have no choice. You gave me no choice.” She vehemently shook her head, but he just sighed at her response. The silent pleading for him to stop in her eyes was ignored as he continued to speak.

God, he was crazy!

He spoke softly as he leaned down. “I took care of your lover last night. Now I have to teach you what happens when you betray me.” She screamed in denial against her restraints. “Why couldn’t you just love me the way I love you? Why did you let him touch you? All those other men, I see the papers. I see what you do. You can’t hide from me. You want to be treated like a whore, because you are, aren’t you? You think you’re too good for me, don’t you, Isabella? We could have been together! We could have had a perfect life together. You should be at home cooking for me, being a good wife, not out whoring yourself!”

He brought the knife up and sliced deep through the tendons of her right hand. Bella screamed, over and over again, crying against the pain so intense that it was unreal.

“See if you can cook with your hand all fucked up. Always carting around these stupid knives. You love them so much, bitch. How do you feel about them now? How much will people love you if you can’t cook anymore?”

Bella tried to kick the knife out of his hand with her feet, but he easily blocked her attempts. Sobbing now, she struggled to breathe. Dropping the knife on the bed, he got up and stood next to the bed. Slowly he began to remove his clothes, watching her struggling form before him as her eyes widened in horrified recognition of what he was going to do. He grabbed her legs and rose up over her to sit on her as her ripped her shirt open.

“We were supposed to make love the first time on our wedding night, but you left me no choice. I could have loved you forever. Now, you pay!” he screamed as he slapped her across the face again and again. “You want to be treated like a whore, and now you’ll die like one. If I can’t have you, no one will.”

His right hand came up around her neck, covered with her blood. “I always did like red on you,” he whispered evilly, laughing in her ear as his hand squeezed tighter, cutting off her air. The pain was unbearable, sharp, and so strong she prayed to break away from the reality of what was happening. As his other hand moved down to undo the button on her pants, she was thankful for the blackness that came to claim her.

* * * *

Bella jolted awake, woken by the sound of her own screams. Drenched with sweat, she fought to beat the cold, stark terror back from her sleep-weakened mind. It was just a nightmare.

The same nightmare she had repeatedly for the past year.

Early morning sunlight streamed past the creamy lace curtains through the window of Bella’s bedroom. Cheerful sounds of autumn from the world outside forced the nightmare back into hiding. Bella’s sobbing breath caught in her throat as she tried to gasp in air. She forced the hands that held the bedding in a death grip to release. Dammit, she was safe, safe in her own bed.

Breathe, just breathe.

She had had the nightmare every time she closed her eyes after she had woken up in the hospital after the night Victor Dane had tried to kill her.

Bella had tried to respond to fan mail as much as she could, always getting a kick out of the fact that people thought of her as a celebrity. At first, Victor Dane had seemed like a nice, normal man who had sent her letters expressing his interest and appreciation in her craft. She had responded with a polite thank-you letter as she did with most of the letters that she received.

Bella was a little shocked when Victor continued to write, his letters becoming more insistent that they meet. She had written a letter politely denying his request they meet and kindly telling him that, as flattering as his attention was, his efforts were not welcomed. He had continued sending her gifts and letters, which she continued to ignore until they had stopped. She never gave it a second thought, until he had started to call her. She had reported the calls to the front desk of the hotel, and they had blocked him from reaching her.

Until that night.

Over the past few months the dreams haunted her less frequently, for which she was grateful, but they still came. She looked down to her shaking hands, staring at the deep scar on her right hand where Victor had cut her. It had taken her months to regain the use of that hand after the damage he had caused, but she had survived. She had scars on her neck where he had cut her, though these were faint, mostly healed, and now barely visible. Other, deeper scars graced her lower abdomen where Victor had buried the knife, those would always be there. But that was nothing compared to the deepest scar she carried which could not be seen.

The scar on her soul that was deep inside her.

She had drifted in and out of consciousness that night, and finally he had left her for dead. Luckily, he had missed most of her vital organs when he had stabbed her, giving her the precious minutes she needed to live. The night manager of the hotel had gone up to Bella’s suite to visit that night. Seeing blood on the door handle, she had keyed in after Bella didn’t answer, sensing something was very wrong. If not for her friend, Bella would have died.

Bella had woken up in the hospital surrounded by her family, alive but barely feeling it. The anguish on their faces was burned in her memory as they discovered what had happened. Victor had been stalking her for months. The police had discovered that his apartment had been filled with pictures of her everywhere, walking on the street, with her friends, and he had even stolen pieces of clothing from her suite in the hotel. She gave her statement to the police, reports were filled out, but it was no use.

Victor Dane had disappeared.

She had recovered in the hospital, a rehab facility, and then was moved into a house her family had rented, where she had been put on lockdown as they hoped for a sign of Victor. Her family’s unwavering support brought tears to her eyes, knowing that she should have been able to tell them everything, anything, and it was her fault that she had left them in the dark over the weird fans she had accumulated over the years. She had never mentioned a thing.

Bella’s family and friends had taken turns staying with her, never leaving her alone during those months of recovery. Liz had come to live with and take care of her, quitting her job when they had refused to give her the time off. She didn’t need it anyways since her parents had died years ago, leaving her their fortune.

Bella’s brother Tony, who was a computer genius, had relocated to be with her since he could write his software programs anywhere. He never left her alone as if afraid something would happen to her again if he so much as blinked.

Bella had told Danny to go back home since he had the bar to take care of, but Mama and Papa said they would alternate with him so someone could stay at Moretti’s and the others could come be with her as often as they could. Her family had stayed with her in that house while she recovered, until she was strong enough to move back to Chicago. The only family member not around was Salvatore, her oldest brother. He had joined the Army Rangers years ago, and it had been almost two years since any of them had spoken to him. All they had been told was that he was “on assignment,” and they received the occasional letter from him, with no return address.

Bella made the rest of her family swear that they would allow her to tell him once he was home and stopped them from trying to find him. Bella dreaded telling him since Sal had the worst temper out of the three brothers. All of her brothers were big, frightening men, but not to her. Their massive frames gave her comfort and made her feel protected like she needed, surrounding her with love and security.

Silent tears streaked down her face as the memories assailed her.

“I’m okay…I’m okay…” she whispered over and over again, repeating the words like a mantra, trying to calm herself.

A furious pounding on her door broke her out of her frightened daze, forcing her back to reality.

“Bella, open up,” Tony’s deep harsh voice demanded. “Bells, sweetheart, you know the rule, right, hon? If you don’t answer me, I am going to come in, in ten seconds. One, two, three—”

“I’m coming!”

Bella scurried off the bed, struggling on pants and an oversized sweatshirt as she flew to the door. She undid the locks and the alarm and wrenched open the door as Tony’s imposing form bounded into the room. Bella threw herself into his waiting arms as he picked her up. Cradling her in his arms, he moved silently to the couch in her living room.

Gently, he stroked her hair and crooned soft words to her as he held her shaking body close to him. Although Bella was close to all her brothers, she and Tony had always had a special bond. Being the youngest of the brothers, Tony was closest to her in age, only being three years older than her, but that was not what had made them close.

Over the years people had jokingly said that they were like twins, knowing more about each other than anyone could understand. He was her best friend. They could read each other’s face as well as their own, feel the depths of each other’s emotions, and Bella knew that her terror and pain had cut him to the bone. Growing up, they had always known if something was wrong with one another, even at a distance.

When she had moved to France for school and then to New York to live, she had hurt Tony by leaving even though he understood. When she had opened her eyes in the hospital, Bella had met Tony’s pain-filled eyes and knew that he hurt for her as deeply as anyone possibly could. It was all there in his face. He thought he had failed her, was terrified that he almost lost her. Tony had been in California for work when Victor had attacked her. Unexplainably, before any of his family had been able to reach him, he was already on a plane heading to New York, praying that he wasn’t too late.

As Bella lay in the hospital, Tony had quietly purchased the three-story brick condo building in Chicago’s Gold Coast area where they now lived. He had the condo on the third floor furnished for her, moving his stuff into the unit on the second floor, reconstructing the first floor as a common area for both of their use. He had gotten an old friend of his to install the best security system money could buy, along with a few bits and pieces that were not available to the public, some of which he himself had created.

When Bella said she had wanted to move home to Chicago, her parents had insisted she move home, but Bella made a stand and said she needed to find her own place. Tony had told her it was taken care of and immediately moved her into her new apartment as soon as they arrived.

Bella rested her head on Tony’s broad shoulder, burrowing her face close against his neck, seeking comfort, letting his warmth chase away the cold that always seized her body after her nightmares.

Tony was the only man who could calm Bella after the storm, much to the upset of both her papa and Danny. During her recovery, if one of them had tried to touch her, she would claw and fight them until her terror had released her. With Tony she was calmed almost immediately, turning her head into his neck, and wept silent tears.