Potent Desire by Teresa Wolf

7

Isabella

Vik lingers at the table, eyeing me up and down. He licks his lips hungrily, and a husky rumble escapes his throat.

“You look amazing,” he says, stepping closer to me. “My beautiful princess.”

I’m locked in place; unable to speak, or move, until he’s upon me. He grabs the TV remote and presses play. Dance music starts playing, and Vik’s hips start swaying.

“Do you want a glass of champagne?” he asks.

“No,” I shake my head.

“It’s the best money can buy.”

Is that supposed to impress me? Does he think I’m stupid? That a little bit of expensive champagne is going to make all of this okay?

“Suit yourself,” Vik waves it off. He walks towards me, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. My heart’s thumping in my chest.

He’s not wasting any time. He leans in, his hands slipping from my neck, and down the silky dress. His face is against my neck while his hands cup my ass. The tears I fought so hard to keep back finally break their seal.

I can hear Vik sniffing against my skin. “Oh Baby, you smell so good.” He squeezes my ass, pressing his lips against my neck. They’re dry, and his lingering touch only amplifies my fears of what the night will bring.

A hand circles around my thigh. Fingers trail along my leg. They reach their destination at the front of my dress. He tugs at the material, trying to lift it higher. Vik pulls me against him, moving his hand to its inevitable target.

But, before he reaches it, a fire erupts inside of me. I can stand here and cower, and let this perverted fantasy come true…

Or, I can fight it.

I’m a Romani, after all, and we never back down from a fight.

Before Vik gets my dress any higher than he’s already pulled it, I slap his hand away. He chuckles, and immediately reaches down again. I give him a forceful push, but instead of him moving, I stumble backward.

“Don’t fight this, Isabella. It’s already done,” Vik says. A distorted smile twists his face into a nightmarish form.

“Don’t come near me,” I shout, as he attempts getting closer. Because he disobeys my order, I swing my arm and connect with Vik’s flabby cheek.

He clutches the meat, before snickering. “I love a girl with a little fight,” Vik says, trying again.

I give him another slap. It stings my hand and rings out through the hotel room. Unlike the first, this one angers Vik. His face turns a deep shade of red, and the smile is replaced by a scowl. He lets out a grunt, and before I can react, he’s given me a backhand of his own. It knocks me off my feet and drops me onto my ass.

“You want to play rough, huh?” Vik shouts, grabbing me by the hair. With a hard pull, he throws me onto my belly.

“No, stop. Please, don’t. I’m sorry I hit you, I won’t do it again,” I shout, as he drops his weight on top of me. I continue repeating it shouting and pleading. But, with his weight pressing me down, I can’t move. I’m trapped, and I feel his hand snake up my thigh, while the other pins my head down.

“Don’t do this,” I beg. My torrential flow of tears doesn’t seem to phase him. I can’t fight him. I’m a toy in a sick game. My body goes numb, as I try to prepare myself for what’s about to happen.

But, there’s no preparation for this, for being violated and used. I wriggle and squirm, but Vik’s too strong. I feel hopeless and abandoned. Vik doesn’t speak, only runs his fingers along my smooth skin, reaching ever closer to my flower.

Just when I think it’s too late, there is a knock at the door. It’s loud and forceful, and for the first time since I arrived in this hotel, I feel as if I’ve been given a break.

Vik ignores the first knock, but another comes, and then a third. He lets out an enraged scream, before shouting, “Who the hell’s out there?”

“Room service,” someone replies.

“I didn’t order any room service,” Vik responds.

“It was ordered for this room. It’s hotel policy to get a signature on the…”

“Get out of here,” Vik cuts him off.

“Sir, it’s hotel policy. I can’t leave until you’ve signed for it.”

A hard thrust sends my face to meet the carpet and Vik gets to his feet. He’s cursing and blaspheming, from where we were on the floor all the way to the door.

“Give me the goddamned thing to sign,” he barks, as he swings the door open. But there’s no busker or waiter at the door. It’s Maddox Braddock – another one of my father’s associates. He wraps a hand around Vik’s face, and pushes him back into the hotel room. He kicks the door shut behind him.

He’s standing calm, cool, and collected in his black three-piece suit. His olive skin only emphasizes his deep-brown eyes. There’s not a single sign of emotion lingering anywhere on his chiseled features.

“Evening Vik, I’ve heard a lot about you,” Maddox says. He turns to me on the floor, but his attention doesn’t linger long. Was this what my father meant by I have to trust him? Was Maddox’s arrival all part of the plan? What if he got the timing wrong? It was already too close for comfort. “Bruno sends his regards.”

“Bruno? The hell are you on about?” Vik replies, taking a few steps back. All big and tough when it’s only a girl he’s fighting, but I can see the worry in his eyes with Maddox standing in front of him.

“Well, you see, there’s been a little change of plan. The old man doesn’t have the heart to throw his little girl to the wolves,” Maddox replies.

“Then the deal’s off…”

“No, it’s not. You’ve already signed the papers.”

“I’ve got things in place for this!”

“Yeah, Bruno said that might happen. That’s why I’m here,” without warning, Vik draws a gun from inside his jacket. In one swift motion, it’s trained on Vik’s head. Vik doesn’t even have time to get a word out before Maddox pulls the trigger.

His body falls limply at my feet. I can’t stop the screech that tears through me.

“What the fuck did you just do? You just killed him!” I turn to Maddox. My eyes are so wide they feel as if they’re about to pop out of my head.

“He deserved it, didn’t he?” Maddox replies, walking over to me. He offers me a hand and I take it. “I’m sorry you had to see that, Isabella.”

He does his best to block my view of Vik’s body on the floor. He pulls open one of his lapels as we start walking, shielding my gaze until we’re out the door. Maddox keeps an arm wrapped around my shoulder all the way to the elevator. I want to pull away, to show that I’m strong, but this comfort is necessary.

After what I’ve been through, any affection at all is welcome. In the elevator, he releases me and walks over to the other side. He doesn’t speak, just stares blankly at his reflection in the mirror.

What the hell just happened?