Bones (Dark Kingdom, #5) — Chapter no 3

CHAPTER THREE

BONES

I WATCH HER return to the bench seat across from where I sit. She’s much smaller in height and overall size than she looked on stage. She’s got long, thin legs, and her neck is so fragile I could wrap my entire hand around it—easily breakable. I’m not sure if that’s naturally or from malnutrition.

She stares out the window, holding the ice pack to the side of her face. It angers me that the pathetic man hit her. Men like him are weak. He needed his ass beat. I’ll do it. Later. Her evening gown was supposed to make her look like a princess, but it’s ripped up her thigh, and my eyes keep going to the lace material that covers her pussy.

“Where is home?” she asks, not bothering to look at me.

I take a sip of my drink.

Her head slowly turns to finally look me in the eyes. Her porcelain face is tight, nose scrunched, eyes looking smaller by the second as she glares at me. I half expect her to throw the ice pack at my face. And that turns me on.

Fight me, beautiful.

She sighs heavily, making her chest rise and fall with irritation. “Is it in

another country?”

“Does it matter?” I finally ask.

“Yes,” she hisses, slamming the ice pack to her lap. “You’re kidnapping me.”

I bite back a smile. “Honey, I paid for you.”

That just seems to enrage her more. She starts speaking a different language. “Excuse me?”

Her words cut off, and she takes in a deep breath, the action making her chest rise again, and this time, I allow myself to watch the way her breasts bounce from the motion, making my cock hard.

“I called you a pompous, self-absorbed son of a bitch,” she clarifies with a bite and adds, “in Italian.”

I take a drink from my glass and smile behind it. She’s exactly what I expected a female Bianchi to be—fucking fire.

My cell rings, and I pull it out of my pocket to see it’s Luca. “Hello?”

“So it went well?” he rushes out. “You’ve got Mia?”

“Yes,” I say, taking another drink.

He lets out a long breath. “Thanks, Bones.” The sound of appreciation in his voice makes my chest tighten. Why has he kept her a secret all these years? Where the hell has she been? If he cared so much, why did he allow this? Between him and the Kings, we could have protected her. He has to know that we would have done whatever he needed for her. All he had to do was ask. We protect our own. I consider Luca a brother.

I look up at her to see her beautiful eyes already on mine. The soft glow of the purple lights makes them look exotic—like a rare diamond. A look of concern covers her pretty, bruised face. The ice pack is now on the floor— long forgotten.

“You saved her,” he whispers, then clears his throat. “But you do whatever you have to do. Do you understand?”

“I understand.” I acknowledge him, and her eyes go wide. Her mind thinks the worst possibilities of who I’m talking to and what I’m agreeing to do regarding her.

I’m not her ally. I need her afraid of me. I need her to want to run away from me. She needs to fear for her life. I have to be exactly like the monsters that put her in this situation in the first place.

“Call me when it’s done.” Luca hangs up.

Locking my cell, I place it next to me where my jacket lies and order, “Come here.”

She swallows nervously, and I can hear her breathing pick up. Her eyes dart to the seat next to me. My legs fall open. “Come here.” I point at the floor between them. I don’t want her ass beside me. I want her kneeling between my feet. I’m going to treat her how she expects to be treated—if I

was a man buying a woman to use.

“I …”

“You don’t want me to come get you,” I warn, undoing my tie and ripping it from my collar before throwing it too on the seat and undoing the top button on my shirt, needing to be more comfortable. The air in here is too hot, suffocating.

She must see the warning written on my face because she drops to her knees and slowly makes her way across the floor in her evening gown. She stops too far away from me. I reach out, grab her hair, and yank her the rest of the way. She cries out when I bring her face to mine. Her hands go to my thighs, gripping my slacks. She’s panting. Those big silvery-blue eyes are large. A set of red-painted, plump lips parted. Her chest rises fast with each new breath she takes. I let my eyes drop to her cleavage and lick my lips, giving her a clear sign of what I’m thinking about.

“Please …” she begs softly.

My eyes look up at hers. “What happened to that fuck-you mentality?

Give up that easily?” I arch a brow.

She licks her lips nervously, but it just makes me hard imagining throwing her to the floor right here and fucking her. I bet she’s not even a virgin. Who still is at twenty these days? Especially in a family like the Bianchis. Her father probably sold her to the highest bidder when she was twelve. That’s how those sick fuckers work.

“You’re very beautiful,” I say honestly. No reason to lie to her. She won’t remember much when she wakes up tomorrow anyway. I grip her hair tighter.

She bares her straight white teeth and looks me in the eyes, spitting out, “And you’re a sorry piece of shit.”

My free hand comes up and wraps around her neck. Her eyes go wide when I squeeze the delicate skin on either side. I don’t say anything.

Instead, I just watch her. Hating what I have to do to her. It’s not her fault.

She’s a victim of the life she was born into. But this is part of the plan. Her arms fly aimlessly. Her fists hit my chest and arms. She doesn’t have the space to really get the momentum to hurt me. Not like she could even if she wanted to.

Her parted lips are starting to turn blue. She could lose consciousness within ten seconds. Five minutes without oxygen for her body to shut down completely. She makes a noise, trying to get in air. Her silvery-blue eyes are drowning in tears that run down her bruised cheeks.

“So pretty,” I whisper, watching the life drain out of her.

What would John Bianchi do if I left her corpse on his front door?

Exactly like this? With my handprints covering her neck. He wouldn’t even care. He allowed her to be sold. But what about Luca? I’d betray him. And

Mia? She would be collateral damage—a price to pay that was never her debt to owe.

Her arms fall to her sides, and her body goes slack just as the car comes to a stop. I watch her pretty eyes roll back in her head, and I let her go.

Her petite body falls to the floor at my feet. Her silky tan skin is red with irritation from my hand. She coughs while her body shakes uncontrollably before she begins to cry.

I snort. She’s so fragile, like a delicate flower that would be ripped apart by a breeze.

The Bianchi family—John and his brother, Marco, raised their sons to fight the fucking world. How to kill with a knife, a gun, or a fist. But all they teach their women to do is lie down and spread their legs. And to work in the kitchen.

My door opens, and I reach down, grabbing her thick hair and yanking her out of the car.

MIA

I CAN’T BREATHE. My face pounds like a drum. Blood rushes in my ears.

Saliva fills my mouth and runs out of the corners of my busted lips. I can’t swallow. My throat is too sore. Raw.

He drags me into a house and up a set of stairs by my hair. I try to keep up, but my legs won’t work. So I let him do all the work. I barely feel the sting on my scalp. He shoves me through a door, and I fall flat on my face.

My body convulses while I continue to cough.

He leaves me there, and I watch his shiny black shoes walk away from me. I hear the clanking of glass and then ice. He kneels before me, and I look up at him through watery eyes.

“Drink this.” He shoves a small glass full of amber liquid in my face. The strong odor smells of bourbon. It’s my brother Luca’s favorite drink. I’ve never had a drink of alcohol in my life. I’m not about to start now.

When I turn my face away from him, he holds my chin with his free hand and tips the glass to my lips, forcing me to drink it. It invades my mouth and chokes me. I cough, causing some to drip down the corners of my mouth and onto my chest and dress. But he doesn’t let up. He forces me to drink all of it. When he pulls it away and lets go, I bow my head, coughing and gasping for air.

Tears burn my eyes, and I begin to sob. I don’t consider myself that fragile, but at this rate, I’ll be dead by tomorrow.

I blink the fresh tears away and close my eyes. The room begins to spin.

“What …” My voice is scratchy, and I cringe from the soreness when I speak. I swallow. “I …” My tongue feels heavy. I open my eyes, and I see a man standing over in the corner that I’ve never seen before. The guy from the limo kneels before me once again. He looks at me with no emotion. I can’t hold myself up on my hands anymore. I go to fall, but his hands go underneath me, and he lowers me flat to the hardwood floor. I blink up at him slowly. Everything is heavy. I look around aimlessly, but all I see are blurry shapes. “What … happ …ened?” I’ve never been drunk, but this doesn’t feel right.

I feel his hand cup my bruised cheek and lean into it, a moan escaping my lips at how warm it feels while my body shakes on the cold floor.

His blue eyes are the last thing I see before everything goes black.