The Mafia Killer’s Wife by Rosa Milano

Twenty-Three

Amanda

The house is different in daylight. I look back at it from the door we just left. It's not a house. It's a mansion. An enormous one.

"Did you read about defending a location?" he asks, stopping a few yards in front of me.

I nod. "Some of it."

"What do you see about this place?"

"A house."

"More than that."

"A fucking big house."

"Think of defending it. What do you see?"

I try to remember what it said in the book back in the penthouse. A few things occur to me. "Some of the windows are barred. Not all of them."

"The others are reinforced. What else?"

"Cameras up on the roof. Presumably no dead spots."

"Anything else?"

"Clear line of sight toward anyone approaching. No trees or bushes higher than four feet within about fifty yards of the place."

He nods. "You're learning."

"Are you expecting to be attacked out here in the middle of nowhere? What by, rabid raccoons?"

"I'm expecting to be attacked wherever I am. That's why I'm still alive. You need to be more alert to danger, Amanda. It surrounds you just as it surrounds me."

I shake my head. "You're paranoid, that's your trouble."

"You're naive, that's yours."

"I'd rather be naive than keep myself locked away for fear of being attacked."

"This way." He walks off sounding pissed at me. I follow and we cross the lawn toward the wall. He stops in front of it and turns to face me. "What do you see?"

"A wall."

"What else?"

"A fucking big wall. Why are we doing this?"

"Because I need you to understand things. Twelve feet tall. Cameras on top, projecting out and in. Alarmed with sensors if anyone climbs it. Impossible to climb without external support which takes time to set up."

"No, it's not."

"Not what?"

"Impossible to climb."

"Yes, it is."

I grab hold of the stone and lift myself up to the side of the wall. "See."

"Come back down here."

"I bet you I can reach the top before you can catch me."

"Come back down now, Amanda. You'll hurt yourself."

I ignore him, reaching up and grabbing hold of the next gap in the stone. It's small, but I can get three fingers into the gap. I hoist myself upward, my foot seeking out the next hold. I find it after waving my leg for a while and then I'm at his head height.

"Come back down or you'll get a spanking," he says, his voice perfectly calm.

"You'll have to catch me first." I reach up and get hold of the next rough spot of stone. Only it's not big enough and my finger slips. I find myself falling. I manage a little shriek before I close my eyes, wincing at the expected crunch of me hitting the ground.

He catches me. I land heavily in his arms but he doesn't stagger. "That does it," he says, setting me on my feet. "Bend over and face the wall this instant." His voice is cold and devoid of emotion.

"Don't want to," I say, going to start climbing again.

He grabs hold of my shoulder and pulls me back to the ground. "If I hadn't caught you, what do you think would have happened?"

"Nothing."

"You could have broken an arm, maybe shattered a vertebra. Any idea how far we are from the nearest hospital? Ever had to move with a broken limb? Any idea how much it hurts?"

I shake my head.

"I told you not to climb it. You did anyway and you nearly hurt yourself. You need to learn there are reasons for the rules I give you. They are not arbitrary. They are for your own safety."

"I got it. Won't climb it again."

I try to walk past him but he blocks my way. "You will learn a sharper lesson this time. That way you will not forget. Face the wall and bend over."

"No!"

He grabs my shoulders, spinning me around so I'm facing away from him. He shoves me down and I have to reach out to avoid losing my balance. My hands touch the wall and an instant later he's reaching around my waist, undoing the button at the top of my jeans.

His rough fingers brush the skin of my lower stomach and deep inside me, I feel heat starting to grow. I don't like it but there's no point denying it's there. He gets the button undone, sliding down the zip, his fingers hitting the fabric of my panties, pressing against me.

I can't move. I'm frozen to the spot. I want to run. I want to fight him. I can't do anything. All I can do is try to control my breathing. It's like my lungs aren't working properly. My heart's going crazy.

I can hear the wind in the trees the other side of the wall but here the only sound is the rustling of my jeans as they are pushed down my hips. He gets them to my knees before letting go, standing back up and yanking my panties down to my thighs.

"You will learn to obey the rules," he says. He doesn't say anything else.

His hand slaps down onto my ass. The sound is loud in the quiet. Something about doing this outdoors makes the sensation all the more intense.

I take in a sharp breath, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of admitting it hurts.

He spanks me again, lower this time. I let out a low cry, and he grunts back at me, his hand slapping down a third time. It lingers on my ass, sliding down between my buttocks, circling the hole that's there. I shift in place, wondering what he's going to do to me next.

I should hate him for doing this to me but I can't. I'm beholden to him, unable to move until he gives me permission. Is it fear? Desire?

For all I know, it's both.