Page 1 of Andrei's Solnyshko
Chapter One
Summer
I touch up my concealer, but the bruises are too dark to hide completely. There was a time when he’d stay away from my face, hiding the proof of his violence. But he no longer cares, and I honestly think he wants everyone to see the evidence of power he holds over me. Each day is a step closer to him killing me, and sometimes it couldn’t come fast enough. Last night was the first time he struck my face with his closed fist. A milestone you aren’t supposed to experience in a loving relationship. I touch my cheek and remember the white-hot pain that shot through me. He blamed me for smiling at the bartender, but we both know he was furious over losing so much money. But, here we are, back at the casino. Luckily, he was winning when he granted me permission to go to the bathroom.
I dream of getting out from under him, but I know it’s impossible. He has the money and the means to track me down. I can’t even afford a bus ticket, and if I had one, I have nowhere to go. I’m an orphan, and I’ll always be an orphan. A loving family was never in the cards for me.
I was left on the steps of an orphanage when I was days old, and the nuns named me Summer because they found me on the first day of the season. My name is the only bright thing about my existence. I was adopted, but when I was five, my sudo-parentsdied in a plane crash. My only aunt hated my adopted mother and refused to take me in, so I was returned to the orphanage like a pair of jeans that didn’t fit. I was placed with multiple families, but for reasons no one ever told me, I was returned, never to be adopted again. I was a reject. I’ve thought about doing those ancestry tests to see if I have any family out there, but I’ve experienced enough rejection in my life, why invite more? At the age of eighteen I left the orphanage, lied about my age and got a job at a nearby casino.
I run my thumb along the hand marks he left on my arm, just moments ago. He accused me of flirting with the Blackjack dealer. The same dealer that wouldn’t take his eyes off my chest, and what did Carlos expect? He demanded I wear this thing he calls a dress. The plunging neckline extends to my belly button and only covers half of my breasts, garnering attention of every dick with a pulse. The hem barely covers my upper thighs, and the back is cut as low as the front, where the fabric grazes the crack of my ass. I don’t dare bend over, because the ounce of dignity I have left will be on full display. What little fabric there is clings to my body, covered in red sequins, but to top it off, the halter fabric circling my neck looks like a collar. A red sequined collar, letting everyone know I’m Carlos’s property.
I know there’s nothing I can do about my predicament, so I shake away the self-loathing and embarrassment. I have a roof over my head and I should be grateful.
I freshen my lipstick and hurry back to my owner, my posture perfect as I walk across the casino floor in my five inch heels. I toss my blonde curls over my shoulder and shake my ass, because even though Carlos doesn’t want me looking at anyone, he wants everyone ogling over me. I better put on a good show, but not too good, or he’ll give me a matching black eye.
He snarls at me when I reach him. “You took long enough, Summer.” He grabs my ass and crushes my still healing ribs into his body. I wince and hope he doesn’t notice.
I remember when we first met, I thought his possessiveness was a turn on and I still think possessive men are an aphrodisiac, but Carlos is the wrong type of possessive. I want a man that’s possessive because he loves me and respects me. A man that cherishes me and doesn’t want any harm to come to me. I want a man that’s a gentleman but dominates the bedroom. Carlos is possessive because he thinks he has a right to own me, disrespect me, and treat me however he wants.
And I’m no better because I let him.
I was so naïve when I met him, letting his good looks and money blur my judgment. I was a cocktail waitress for one of the casinos he frequented, and one night, he tipped me a thousand dollars. I refused it, saying I wasn’t a whore he could buy. He chuckled and kissed my hand, slipping the bills into my fingers and said, “Darling, I can get my dick wet for free. This is for you because I want you to have it, no strings attached.” He knew I’d remember him and every time he visited the casino, which was often, I made sure to wait on him. Each time he played his con, talking to me, asking me questions about myself, and genuinely listening, so I thought. He didn’t touch me inappropriately, and when he left he always tipped me an exorbitant amount of money. This went on for a couple months and I was so smitten. I believed he was a man with class. A man that would treat me right. When he finally asked me out on a date, we took a private plane to New York City where we were treated like royalty, dining at an upscale restaurant overlooking the city lights. I fell hard thinking I’d found my soul mate. A rich powerful man that treated me like a queen. I was putty in his hands, and It didn’t take long for me to fall into his bed.
I thought I finally found my family, but I couldn’t be more wrong.
It was like the flip of a switch and his evil began spilling out, but by that time it was too late. I was already his. He stripped me of my job and the few friends I had, and then he stripped me of my dignity and worth. All those questions he asked was a ruse to learn my vulnerable secrets to hold over me. I revealed my dark fantasies, and I thought he was into it, but he uses my desires against me, embarrassing me and disrespecting me. Calling me a slut and a whore. Telling me I’m disgusting. And who can enjoy dominance when they are in fear of their life? When he puts his hands around my neck while he’s pounding into me I don’t know if he’s going to let go. Sometimes I wish he wouldn’t, because he shattered all of me, and I don’t even know who I am anymore.
Even if I had the means to leave him, he’d hunt me down and kill me. His family won’t hesitate to kill anyone who defies them. Even the outcast of the family.
I flash him a hooded smile and purr, “I just want to look my best for you.”
His tequila breath makes my stomach churn, “Drop a couple more pounds then.” He squeezes my ass again, slightly raising the hem, and I know it’s intentional. My face reddens and he growls in my ear. “You’re mine and if I want to give the fuckers behind us a view of the goods, I’ll do it.”
I nod and he squeezes harder, “You used to like it when I showed you off. When did you turn into such a prude, Summer. We both know who you really are. You’d be whoring yourself out if it weren’t for me. Sick fuck.”
If he were a man I could trust, I’d probably be turned on by his brazenness, but he’s not trying to arouse me. This isn’t about me feeling good. He’s turning every man’s dick hard because heloves to be in control. He loves to be envied, and dangling my ass in front of them turns him on, giving him power over them and me.
“If I keep losing tonight, I will whore you out.”
I gasp and he laughs his evil laugh. Just recently he’s threatened to pimp me out, but I didn’t believe he would share what is his. He snickers, “Do you honestly think anyone would pay for you?”
An older man with a large paunch and wearing way too much gold jewelry stumbles over to our table. He doesn’t even look at me when he asks Carlos, “I couldn’t help but hear, how much for the whore?”
I bite my lip and stare at the floor. I silently beg,please don’t.
He cackles, “I was just telling her she needed to earn her keep.”
“How much?”
“Depends. How long do you want her? And it costs more for her mouth and ass. The sick bitch likes the ass, so maybe I’ll throw it in for free.” He snickers and grabs my ribs. I wince and swallow my fear.
Carlos nods at the dealer and he lays down another card. I don’t understand Blackjack but I know it isn’t good when he takes the pile of chips that were in front of Carlos and says, “I’m afraid the odds weren’t in your favor, tonight. Have a good evening, Sir.”
Carlos growls, “Do you know who I am? My cousin is Julio Caldera. Did you hear me? I’m so fucking rich, I wipe my ass with hundred dollar bills.”
The other guy is still standing there, staring at me and salivating. “I’ll give you ten thousand dollars right now. You can keep playing and I’ll fuck her in the bathroom.”
A deep voice from behind us says, “Mr. Caldera, Mr. Sokolov has requested your presence.”