Page 18 of Vicious Impulses (The Capo and Ballerina)
My brows knit. “The wine from earlier?”
“Here, have a swig of some liquor. It’ll help relax you.” Ms. Poitier sneaks a small flask from the pocket of her house dress and pushes it into my hands.
At first I’m about to turn her offer down, but as thoughts about Caelian’s brute size and strength enter my mind, I figure it might be needed. I swallow two gulps and then cough at the instant burn down my throat.
“I like the hard stuff,” Ms. Poitier says, taking her flask back. She fixes one last stray piece of hair before she clutches my hand and leads me out of the room. “No more time to waste. He’s waiting for you.”
SEVEN
Nevaeh
My hand balls upinto a fist and hovers over Caelian’s door. I glance over to my left. Ms. Poitier lingers down the hall watching me, giving encouraging nods of her head. She motions for me to go on.
I suck in some air and then quickly release a shaky breath and tap my knuckles against the door. It can barely be considered a knock. More the kind of innocuous noise you hear in the background and think nothing of. He probably didn’t even hear it.
My heart beats with hope at that thought until the door whips open and I find myself standing opposite him.
Caelian Ziccardi, a man so huge and bulging with muscles that he almost feels unreal. He towers over me by more than a foot, like an insurmountable mountain I’ve been sent to climb. A flicker of dark glee shines in his eyes at the sight of me outside his door.
“Miabella ballerina,” he says, his accent thicker and huskier than usual. He’s been drinking. Noticeably, to the point the woody, sweet scent of whiskey is on him. He steps aside. “I’ve been waiting for you for a long time.”
I catch the double meaning—the reference to his supposed dreams of me and the literal moment that he’s spent waiting for me to turn up at his room.
With a final glance down the hall at Ms. Poitier, I step into the room feeling like I’m entering the den of a beast.
His door slams shut, and I recoil at the jarring noise.
He strolls past me, giving no indication he notices nor cares. It could be the alcohol, or he simply might not give a damn. Either are believable.
“Would you like another drink?” he asks from the polished minibar set up in his room.
It prompts my first real look around—my eyes scan the large, open-spaced bedroom, taking notice of many of its details.
The furniture and decor match the rest of the house’s vibe. Dark, archaic, and heavy. Large furniture made of the sturdiest wood, which looks antique. His bed alone feels like it was made not for a human but for a giant monster. Is that where he’ll take me?
I shudder at the thought, my belly clenching.
“Nevaeh,” he says sternly. Ice chinks the glass he’s holding as he fills it up. “Do you want a drink?”
“N-no thank you,” I stutter out, neglecting to mention the two swigs of liquor I just had. On a mostly empty stomach at that.
He finishes making the rest of his drink, his broad back a canvas of muscles and tattoos. Sampling the drink, the ice bobbing along in the pale brown liquid, he reaches for a few of the pills on the counter of the minibar.
I frown observing him. He takes the pills and tosses back his alcohol. Are these the pills Ms. Poitier had been complaining about? Some kind of drug he’s addicted to?
As if my situation couldn’t get any worse…
He glances at me from over his shoulder. “You haven’t moved from the spot by the door. Are you afraid of me,bella ballerina?”
I shake my head, though it’s after a pause of uncertainty. “I… I don’t know where you want me. This is your room.”
“Ours,” he interrupts. “Ourroom. You’ll be sleeping with me here most nights. Except for when I’m gone or unavailable… then you will be returned to the other room I have for you.”
I bite my tongue, tempted to point out how he speaks of me like a toy to be put away at his whim. Instead, I focus on steadying my breath and my skyrocketing heartbeat. You’d think I’ve been dancing the way it thrums so fast inside my ribcage.
Nerves and unease. Dread and concern. Sadness over my past life that’s now gone.
In minutes he’ll be changing me in a way I’ve never experienced before. I’ll be forced to take him and endure his touch and invasion of my body. Just another way I’ll be controlled and placed in a cage, much like I’ve been my entire life.