Beast I Can’t Tame by L.K. Shaw

Chapter 5

Francesca

Soren pullsto a stop in front of the cute single-story house smashed between a two- and three-story one on either side of it, both of them having seen better days. The little cottage seems weirdly out of place. He opens the door for me, and I climb out into the warm, early summer air. The days are beginning to get hotter. Soon, Brooklyn will be a humid mess.

I open the short, wrought iron gate and stride up the sidewalk and four steps to the porch. The front door opens before I can knock.

“You made it,” exclaims a smiling Mila, who waves me in and gives me a quick hug.

It smells wonderful in here. “Thank you so much for inviting me.”

“You know you’re always welcome,” she says.

We cross the entryway and into the living area. It always feels weird to show up empty-handed, but any time I’ve offered to bring something, Mila argues, saying my company is enough. My gaze travels toward movement in the back yard. Anya, her younger sister, is out there working on the lush garden. She’s got on a floppy hat, and despite the heat, she’s wearing long sleeves and pants as she clips some branches off a bush. My heart breaks a little for her. She and I have gone through what no young girl—what no woman—should, period.

“Anya is struggling a little,” Mila says quietly.

“I could talk to her, if you think it would help,” I offer.

She swivels her head in her sister’s direction and watches her for several minutes. “I’m not sure if talking about it makes it better or worse. Theresa has been great, but Anyusha is still having a lot of difficulties re-adjusting. It’s only been a few weeks since Pierce got her back.”

I’d been a captive of the Russians for five days before my brother and Jacob rescued me. I can’t imagine going through the torment and pain I went through for months, like Anya had. “I think the best thing you can do is be patient and let her heal at her own pace. Don’t push her. Just let her be, but make sure she knows that you’re there for her.”

Mila nods. “You’re probably right. Let me go see if she is ready to come in for dinner. Pierce is in the kitchen.”

She sends me a smile and heads out the open French doors while I go find my brother. He’s standing at the oven, pulling something out of it. He glances over his shoulder. “Excellent timing. Will you get the breadsticks? There’re more potholders in the drawer next to the fridge.”

I cross the kitchen, grab what I need, and set the cookie sheet on top of the stove, the scent of bread and tomato sauce making my mouth water. “How come you never cook for me?” I joke.

Pierce brushes a kiss across my temple. “I don’t think putting a pre-made dish into the oven counts as cooking.”

He smiles the tiniest bit. It’s the most I’ve seen from him in years, though. The expression seems to be coming easier. Mila is good for him.

Just then, she and Anya join us. The latter barely glances up. Instead, she stands a little behind her sister, as though hiding from view. My eyes dart in Mila’s direction and she sends me a quick, but sad smile.

“Everyone have a seat,” Pierce says, breaking the silence.

The three of us move to the table; Mila sitting to the right of the head of it and Anya next to her—in the chair closest to the entryway—leaving the seat to the left open. I situate myself in it while Pierce brings over all the food and sets it in the middle before taking his own place. He starts plating food for Mila.

I lean just the slightest bit in Anya’s direction, keeping out of her personal space, but trying to pull her into conversation. “Your sister tells me that you enjoy fashion and sewing.”

The young girl darts a glance in my direction. Her pale skin seems even paler, and there are purple smudges under her eyes like she’s not getting any sleep. She shrugs.

“I guess.” Her voice is soft and barely rises above all the other noise. Mila picks up her sister’s plate and passes it to Pierce.

“I’ve been thinking about getting a new wardrobe. Or at least a few things, to start. I was hoping you might be able to help me pick out some stuff. I’m not very good about knowing what’s currently in fashion. I’m mostly about comfort over style.” I chuckle softly.

Anya is quiet for a moment, her hands wringing in her lap, like she’s torn about it. I can almost see her anticipation, but also her caution. “Would we have to go anywhere? You know, in public?”

I shake my head. “Not if you don’t want to. That’s the beauty of online shopping. We can look at things, and if you think they’ll look good on me, I’ll order them. If they don’t fit right, I’ll just return the stuff.”

“That seems like it would be a pain,” Anya says.

“Not at all. Besides, you’d be doing me a huge favor. In fact, I sort of have another one to ask.”

She looks over at me again, and this time the caution is even more evident.

“I’m trying to get into photography. I did a bunch of research, and I have what I think is a great camera and other fancy equipment I don’t really know what to do with.” I grin a little sheepishly. “I was hoping maybe you could put together a few flower arrangements for me. Lots of colors and different blooms that I can practice taking pictures of. Changing the lighting and placement or whatnot.”

At last, a shy smile crosses Anya’s face. “Yeah, I could do that.”

“You’re the best. Thank you so much.”

Pierce has dished out my food as well, so I dig in along with everyone else. I glance up at Mila, who has tears in her eyes. She mouths, “thank you,” to me. I give her a quick nod and get back to the delicious meal.

Mila,Pierce, and I sit out on the deck with a small fire going in the fire pit. I’m on my second glass of wine while my brother nurses his bourbon. Anya has gone inside, most likely to her bedroom, from hints that I’ve gotten.

“Thank you again for talking to my sister at dinner,” Mila repeats. “That’s the first real smile I’ve seen from her in weeks.”

“Everything I said was true. I really had planned on purchasing new clothes. My sense of style might be a little more current than I alluded to, but I thought it would give Anya something to focus on besides what happened.” I turn to Pierce. “I hope that you and Jacob are coming up with a plan to help the rest of the women.”

My brother’s glass pauses at his mouth before he lowers it. “I thought we had a discussion already about staying out of syndicate business.”

I jerk back in shock and quickly rising anger. “This isn’t just syndicate business, Pierce. We’re talking about women being bought and sold like they’re nothing but pieces of property. After what happened to me, you, of all people, should be trying to help them.”

He has the grace to flinch. Mila shifts in her seat, avoiding looking at either of us. Pierce glances in her direction and then turns a flinty gaze back at me.

“This isn’t the time to have this conversation,” he says, steel in his voice.

I don’t back down, though. I can’t. “When is the time to have it? How many more women have to endure what I did—what Anya did—before someone says enough?”

Pierce’s jaw clenches. “My hands are tied, Francesca.”

“Then I’ll talk to Jacob,” I snap.

“No, you won’t,” he barks back. “This is bigger than just him or me. It’s about honor.”

I push away from the table with a jerk and jump to my feet, anger singeing my veins with its heat. “There is nothing honorable about knowing that women—girls like Anya—are being abused and you’re turning a blind eye. Maybe by me not talking about what happened, you don’t understand. Those women are raped. I was raped. Beaten.” My chest heaves with rage, and tears threaten. “Not just once or twice, but countless times. For days. By men whose faces still give me nightmares. It never stopped. I would have rather died than for it to continue. Do you know what that’s like? No, you don’t. You have no idea what it’s like being that powerless. I’m so disappointed in you.”

With that, I turn on my heel and storm through the house and out the front door where Soren still waits at the curb.

Jacob is the head of the entire Brooklyn syndicate. He has power. Why isn’t he using it?