Page 98 of House of Lies
“That whore ain’t worth it. She’s a stiff, cold bitch.”
“Here’s where you’re mistaken. You shouldn’t have allowed your brother to touch her, Mattia. Because you’re about to experience exactly what that felt like, and I promise you, you’ll wish you were dead.”
Right on cue, five of my men enter the basement. I’ve chosen men from lower ranks willing to do anything to rise to the top.
“What the fuck are you doing? Stop!” Mattia screams as I take a step back, and one of my men cuts away his clothes with a knife.
“I’ve given you the truth,” I remind him. “I’ve allowed you to do the right thing: stand by your blood. But now, I no longer care about that. All I want is to see you dead.”
“I’ve told you before, Mordvinov. You gave me your truth. We’re different people.”
“That we are indeed.”
I retreat until I can lean against the wall, hands still in my pockets, my face betraying no emotion. The moment the realization of what’s about to happen dawns on his face will forever be etched into my memory. His widened, terrified eyes, his mouth open for a second, covered by one of my men’s hands to prevent him from screaming. The muffled sounds are like music to my ears. I don’t want to watch this fucked-up shit, but I have to. It makes me incredibly uncomfortable, like looking in a mirror, but he didn’t look away when Caelia was raped, and neither will I.
Two of my men hold him still, preventing him from attempting to fight back. There’s no escape. He stands completely exposed, shivering. He is terrified for the first time since I’ve known him. A big man stands behind him, unzipping his jeans. They all know what they are here for. There are whores upstairs who warmed their cocks before coming down. They’ve all been forbidden from coming. I wanted them ready to break him. They can bury in pussy all they want after this is done.
“I wish I could say that we’re going to be done after this, brother,” I mock, “but we’re only just beginning.”
The blonde guy’s cock rips through his ass. Mattia bites down into the hand pressed over his mouth, drawing blood. Idiot. He struggles to keep his features composed, but the pain and shock seep through in fleeting moments.
“Did you enjoy watching Ludovic rape your wife, Mattia? Did your men hold her down, or did you beat her until she was unconscious so she wouldn’t be able to fight back?”
“Fuck you, you piece of shit!” He clenches his eyes shut as my man drills into him, keeping his hips steady.
“Do you remember how many times you did this to her? Because I’ll pay you back until your last breath.”
I’ve done some terrible things in my life, but I never had another man raped. There’s a first for everything, I guess. I feel no remorse. It has to be done.
He gives in, little by little. By the time my third guy is done with him, he breaks down, crumbling, a scream escaping his throat.
“This happens when you touch what isn’t yours, Mattia. Ludovic learned his lesson. May it serve him well in hell. Now it’s time for you to learn yours. By the time I’m finished with all of you, the Benedetti family will be nothing more than a memory.” He snaps his eyes open. If looks could kill, I would burst into flames. “Are you thinking of your wife?” I smirk. “No, Mrs. Benedetti will soon be a widow and change her last name to Mordvinova.”
A man is only as strong as the woman beside him, and I fully intend to make Caelia indestructible. Untouchable.
CHAPTER 64
Caelia
You’re going to hurt him.
Vanya’s words echo as I try to decipher their meaning. Does he believe I will physically harm Kaz? I can’t blame him, considering that I stabbed him. Or does he think Kaz feels something for me, and I will hurt him when I leave? I didn’t see Vanya since I asked him if he could bring me some books to learn Russian, and he refused. Part of me prefers it this way. It’s strange how everything has changed, yet some things have remained the same. I spent the last week in Kaz’s home. I’ve also encountered a couple of employees who didn’t pay me too much attention. The men outside work in shifts, but there’s no discernible pattern to their changes. It’s random, with different hours each time.
I can’t decide if I’m angry at Kaz or myself for agreeing. I know it’s better than being kidnapped and locked away, but on some level, it isn’t. It still feels like a prison. It’s my old life all over again. And I have a bodyguard, a tall, muscular Russian man who follows me everywhere but treats me like I’m invisible. I don’t even know his name. He doesn’t seem to sleep, eat, or do anything.
Over the past hour, I’ve been sitting on a bench in the garden. The weather is chilly, but I’m tired of being cooped inside the house. I explored the house and found a massive library—my favorite place. The walls are lined with floor-to-ceiling shelves, and I discovered some books in English. It’s too dark to read now, so I sit here with a closed book on my lap, questioning all my decisions. I might have preferred plan A. Why did I agree to this?
I find a partial answer when I see Kaz stepping through the back patio door. I can’t live with this feeling inside me. I have to get rid of whatever makes my palms sweaty, my stomach flutter, and my throat dry. Despite being angry about trading one prison for another, I still smile when I see him. I tell myself that I’m his wife, and we need to sell this charade, so I have to pretend to be happy when I see him. The worst part is when he returns my smile, his eyes fixated on mine. I can’t tell if he’s pretending or not. Why do we even bother with this façade? My bodyguard nods at Kaz, saying something as he approaches. It takes Kaz less than five seconds to dismiss him, leaving us alone.
“You need to teach me how to do that,” I say, rolling my eyes.
He stops in front of me, so close that the tips of our shoes touch. He’s dressed in a black suit and tie, with his unbuttoned jacket revealing the shirt underneath. All it takes is inhaling his cologne for my body to react. I hope he doesn’t notice how I squeeze my thighs together. If he does, he doesn’t mention it. He cups my cheeks in his hands, leaning in to claim my mouth. I wrap my fingers around his wrists, closing my eyes. There’s nothing wrong with getting lost in him. It’s what I’m supposed to do. Kaz is my husband.
“I’ve missed you so fucking much,” he whispers, his forehead resting against it.
His words don’t sound like a lie.
“Then maybe you shouldn’t have left,” I respond, taking the easy way out.