As expected, Belleni was in her living room, making himself comfortable on her sofa. Although a smile wreathed his lips, his eyes were calculating, shrewd.
“Can I get you something to drink?” she asked, nearly gagging on the false hospitality. How many times had she imagined watching him fall dead to the floor? In the past year, too many to count. But the man was irritatingly healthy and not likely to oblige her with a nicely timed heart attack any time soon. She went to the bar and pulled his favorite brandy.
He accepted the snifter with a faint smile. “It’s nice to see you haven’t forgotten all your manners, darling,” he said, sipping at the Mendis coconut brandy that cost more than a thousand dollars a bottle. She never touched the stuff but Belleni insisted that all his top girls, as in the women he housed personally, keep it in stock just for him. “Now tell me why you persist on being difficult? Vivian tells me you have been exceedingly rude and petulant, particularly when it comes to Nico.”
Her breath hitched in her throat but she revealed nothing. To show fear was to give him an added advantage. There was precious little she could control except herself so she clung to it like a bull terrier. “Vivian and I had a disagreement. Nothing more, nothing less,” she said with a shrug. “And as it turned out, everything was fine. The weather was beautiful and we had a great day at the park.”
“She said you are adamant that Nico will not attend Excelsior.”
“He’s four. He’s too young to even talk about it,” she said evasively, moving to sit as far from him as possible but he thwarted her intention by purposefully patting the cushion beside him. Her heart thudded painfully but she didn’t disobey. Marinating in the revulsion she felt now, it was hard to remember a time when she’d thought he was the kindest, most amazing man she’d ever met. When she’d been vulnerable and lost, he’d appeared like a guardian angel, showering her with gentle affection, expensive gifts and wooing her with promises that he never planned to keep. She swallowed the lump that had risen but she forced a smile, which seemed to appease him a bit. “Belleni, I know you want the best for Nico but he needs me right now. There will be plenty of time to consider the possibility of a private boarding school when he’s of age to attend. Right now, with everything…I think he needs stability.”
“Perhaps,” he mused, but she could tell he wasn’t really listening. He was toying with her. “Or perhaps it would do you both some good to be apart for a while…”
“We’re already kept apart,” she reminded him tightly. “Don’t you think you’ve punished me enough by keeping him from me?”
“A son should be with his father,” Belleni remarked absently, more interested in her breasts than the topic of conversation but she wasn’t about to let it slide.
“Nico doesn’t even know you’re his father,” she said in a low tone so as not to disturb Nico. “To him you’re a stranger who just happens to live in the same house. And Vivian…” She could barely manage the woman’s name without revealing her hostility. “She terrorizes him with impunity. You do nothing to stop her from hurting him and at the very least you ought to protect him because he’s your only flesh and blood.”
Belleni’s stare narrowed at her impassioned statement and she knew she’d pushed too hard. “Perhaps Nico should not stay here tonight. You seem over-wrought,” he said harshly. “Vivian is right, you should be resting.”
No! She slid her tongue across lips that had gone numb and fought the rising panic that Belleni might force her to rouse Nico from his dreams to drag him crying back to that house where he went to sleep afraid each night because Vivian refused to allow the boy a nightlight in spite of the fact that he was terrified of the dark. She told Skye a boy with Belleni’s blood should fear nothing, least of all a few shadows. Then she’d accused Skye of coddling him.
“I misspoke,” she whispered, choking down what she really wanted to say which was that she wished with the power of a thousand suns that Belleni would die a miserable death alone and afraid so that he could reap all the misery he’d sown his entire life. Tears pricked her eyes and she tried to hide it but Belleni sensed her pain and drank it like ambrosia. His finger caught her chin and pulled her to him. “Please, Belleni, don’t take my son from me. He’s so little…he needs me,” she heard herself plead, hating his power over her.
He smiled, true pleasure reflecting in his eyes. His gaze traveled the planes of her face as hunger gathered in his cold stare. “
I
need you, my darling,” he murmured, sliding his finger down her neck to the valley of her breasts. “You intoxicate me. Even pregnancy did not dull your beauty. In fact, you bloomed like a winter rose in a hothouse garden whereas most wither and become ugly. Your body is still ripe and your breasts are still lush and firm,” he said, his breathing quickening, nauseating her, as his hand reached over to cup and knead the flesh through her shirt.
Don’t touch me. I hate you.
She closed her eyes against the feel of his hands on her body. His touch became impatient as he withdrew and gestured for her to undress. “It’s time we get reacquainted, my love,” he said, beginning to unbuckle his pants.
“I—I can’t,” she stammered, surprising him with her refusal. She knew if he touched her again she’d scream. “The doctor said I can’t have any physical activity until my rib heals or…I could be down for another few weeks.”
She drew faint satisfaction in watching his lust fade as his business sense took over. He grunted his displeasure but righted his pants with a glower. “I will see that pig who did this to you punished beyond his worst nightmare. Vincent gave him but a taste of what will happen next,” he promised, though she held no illusions he was making a grand gesture on her part. He was angry at being denied and he needed an outlet.
She nodded and smiled her relief, which was genuine. “Thank you, Belleni,” she murmured, her voice shaking a little as the adrenaline drained from her body. It was only a brief reprieve, she knew, but it was something. Belleni went through periods where he couldn’t get enough of her and then he would abandon her and put her back in the stable, almost as if he were punishing her for his obsession. It would seem his desire for her and her alone had returned, and she would only be able to put him off for so long. But she’d take the short respite wherever she could find it.
He climbed to his feet, adjusting his clothes with short, clipped movements, betraying his simmering agitation. “This fighting between you and Vivian must stop,” he advised her sternly. “I don’t have time to referee your silly arguments.”
“She hates Nico,” Skye said, unable to hold her tongue. “Nothing she says comes from a pure place in her heart. How am I supposed to trust her around him?”
Belleni was silent for a moment, then said with something that almost sounded like regret and she couldn’t help but stare. “It is difficult for her…the child. I will speak with her,” he added with a sigh. “But in the meantime, do not borrow trouble.”
She murmured something appropriately dutiful yet she was the farthest from compliant in her mind. She felt the pressure of time weighing on her. Her escape route had been effectively cut off and as soon as Belleni felt she was well enough for sex, he’d return. Or he’d take Nico from her. She felt the threat hovering in the air, filling the corners with malice even if he hadn’t actually uttered the words. She knew how he operated. Belleni took what mattered most in the world for leverage. And Belleni knew nothing mattered more to her than her precious boy.
As if sensing the direction of her thoughts, he smiled and said, “Bring the boy back to me tomorrow.”
She gritted her teeth but nodded. “Of course.”
Approval gleamed in his stare but he wasn’t quite finished. He cocked his head at her. “Aren’t you going to kiss me good-night, perhaps thank me for my generosity?” She swallowed the bile that rose and pasted a benign smile on her lips. As she crossed to him, he pulled her in tight, until her breasts rubbed against his chest and his breath mingled with hers. She forced herself to relax, to appear consensual. “That’s better,” he murmured. “Now tell me how happy and grateful you are.”
“Belleni,” she protested softly, eager to get this over with. But his grip tightened and she inhaled sharply. Her cheeks burned as she repeated, “I’m happy and grateful.”
“As you should be. Don’t forget it.”
And then he released her, nearly pushing her away, as he turned and let himself out.
She hadn’t called. He wasn’t surprised. He went to his computer and searched her name on Google just to see what popped up. He found a few playbills with her name and a picture or two of her dressed in her tutu. She had that rare quality that seemed to blossom with maturity rather than fade. He clicked on an old bio and read it with interest. Small town girl moved to the big city when she was only eighteen, made prima ballerina at nineteen and her career was over by twenty. He drew back, a furrow in his forehead. Man, that must’ve sucked. By the looks of it her star had shot into the sky only to plummet a short time later. He imagined that had to sting even to this day. Making a living in the arts was a tough gig. He knew the odds were against most people from the moment they started. Still, he wished Skye’s story had ended differently.
He clicked past a few more links and found an agent contact for the ballerina Skye D’Lane. He drew back in his chair, cocking his head in thought. What if the agent still had a number for her? The chances were beyond slim but hey, weirder things had happened lately. He grabbed his cell and dialed the number.
“Barry Friedman,” the guy on the other line said in a distinctive New Yorker accent.
“My name is Christian Holt. You don’t know me but I’m looking for a former client of yours, Skye D’Lane.”
“She’s out of the business,” he replied, sounding disinterested in furthering the conversation. “I heard she moved back to the cornfields of Idaho or Iowa. Something like that.”
“Do you have a contact number for her?”
“Surely you know she’s been out of the scene for the past five years?”
“I know. Do you have a contact number or not?” he asked, irritated at the guy’s dismissive tone.
He sighed on the other line. “So pushy.” The sound of papers shuffling, and then he returned, saying, “You’re in luck. I have a number. Now, what do you want her number for?”
“I’m a huge fan,” he answered.
“Not a stalker I hope.”
“No, not at all.”
“Well, she’s not my client so I’m no longer bound by client confidentiality. Here, knock yourself out.” He rattled off the number and Christian jotted it down. “Listen, if you see her, tell her no hard feelings. Some things just aren’t meant to be.”
“Yeah sure.” Barry Friedman was a fount of empathy and compassion. “Thanks,” he said, and hung up, eager to get off the phone. Staring at the number he wondered if he ought to call her. It was one thing to acquire the means, quite another to actually put something into motion.
Tomorrow, he decided. He’d call tomorrow afternoon before his shift started at the bar. But what would he say? He didn’t know. He needed strategy. But he hardly knew her so what could he use…a slow grin spread across his face as an idea came to him.
But first, he needed to call someone else. If everything worked out, by tomorrow he’d have his in.
A total stranger. A man she should definitely steer clear of. She didn’t need nor want another complication in her life. Yet, he kept popping up in her head, teasing her with that boyish dimple and those ridiculously blue eyes.
For just a wild, reckless moment she wondered what it would be like to enjoy a little harmless flirtation. To allow herself the freedom to engage in playful banter that wasn’t a means to an end, an act she put on to charm the client. She wondered what it’d be like to go on a date with someone who didn’t have the expectation of sex just because he paid a little extra for her services. She wanted to remember what it felt like to go to dinner with someone and as they sat apart from one another, be just as ignorant of how the evening was going to play out as the other person. Would they kiss? Would they hold hands? Would they want to see each other again? It’d been so long since she’d enjoyed such simple dating rituals that she almost didn’t remember how they worked.
She allowed her thoughts to wander further, tantalized by the engaging fantasy of mundane normalcy, to wonder where Christian took a woman on a first date. Was he the kind of guy who did the dinner and flowers thing or was he the adrenaline junkie type who took a date bungee jumping? She hoped he was somewhere in between.
She smiled at the memory of how persistent he’d been at the park, the way his eyes had lit up for a boy that wasn’t related to him but still gave him joy. She allowed a small sigh. What would it be like to be with someone so generous? She turned on her back and stared at the ceiling. Once she’d thought Belleni was kind. But what she’d mistaken for kindness had actually been a calculated facade. How had she ever been so naive?
Ten thousand dollars. Gone. Handed over to Belleni as punishment for her deception. It curdled her stomach to think of how close she’d been to putting this whole sordid mess behind her only to fail so miserably. If only Belleni would find someone else to fulfill his obsession. She didn’t understand why he remained fixated on her. By all accounts she was difficult to manage, needed constant supervision and had already tried to run several times with disastrous results. Yet, he continued to tether her to his side like an exotic collared pet. And God, how she chafed at his possession.
If it weren’t for Nico she’d have found a way to split a long time ago. But her son was Belleni’s ace and he played it whenever he felt the need to corral her. He parceled out visitations like tiny morsels to a starving person. He threatened to send Nico away to his family in Italy if she didn’t behave. The boy already had dual citizenship due to his father and it would be easy to spirit the child out of the country with Belleni’s influence. That’s why she’d banked up the ten grand, to ensure they left no trace of their disappearance and could stay underground for at least a year in the hopes of leaving Belleni behind forever. A mere couple thousand wouldn’t have sustained them long enough. But it was all gone now.
She supposed this was another of those little reminders that Belleni had all the power and she had none. She would get through it. And she would find another way out of this craptastic mess.
She just needed more time.
And a miracle.