Blackmailed to the Altar (Caputo Crime Family #2)

4. Chapter Four

CHAPTER FOUR

D r. Mya

Waking up was like dragging myself through quicksand, my body heavy and my mind hazy. I shifted, expecting the rough, cold metal of the trunk, or maybe a concrete floor, but I felt soft sheets, warm and unfamiliar. Panic flared in my chest, as I blinked against the dim light. I wasn’t in the car anymore. This was a bedroom, spacious and elegant from what I saw so far. I couldn’t believe I fell asleep after being kidnapped, or maybe I was drugged. Was this karma for what I’ve done? I would not freak out, but I was a little surprised that I could stay in bed and rest, with everything that had happened, and could happen.

My body was sore from the journey as I stretched out my arms, trying to find relief. Until I hit a warm body. My pulse quickened, my eyes darting around. Bleary-eyed, I looked over and saw a naked man in bed next to me, his scars on full display underneath the rosy glow of the sun. I froze, my breath catching in my throat. He was close, too close, and every survival instinct I had was screaming at me to get away. But I couldn’t just bolt, I needed to be smart. I needed to think.

I breathed out my mouth, trying to stay calm, as I slowly wiggled to the edge of the bed. I noticed I wasn’t tied up anymore. No ropes, no restraints, just this man’s heavy arm that was draped over my waist, as if that was where it belonged. I thanked goodness I hadn’t woken up screaming or thrashing around, but the rational part of my brain fought back at this scene laid out in front of it. I stilled when he moved, everything stopping. If I made another move, I’d wake him up, and I wasn’t certain I wanted to do that.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he murmured, drawing me close again. “You smell so fucking good.” He climbed up my body until he could nuzzle my hair.

His voice muffled against my head for a minute before he stiffened against me. “Mouse?”

“Get off of me,” I hissed, hating the nickname.

He scrambled away, looking down at his naked, hard, pierced cock, standing tall between us.

“What are you doing in my bed?” His confusion made me feel a similar notion.

“This was the room you put me in.” I pulled the sheet up to my chest, trying to cover up. “Is that a piercing?” My eyes locked onto his cock.

“W-what? I don’t understand.” He looked around.

“Is that a piercing?”

Distracted, he looked down and grinned. “Yeah, it’s a Prince Albert.”

I had no words.

“Do you want to touch it?” He waggled his brows with his suggestion.

I narrowed my eyes. “What is the last thing you remember?” I got back to the question at hand.

He shrugged. “Storming out of here and getting a drink.” He held his hands up placatingly. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Scare me?” I echoed, momentarily distracted from his intentions as anger bubbled beneath my fear. “You didn’t mean to scare me?” I looked in his eyes, gauging his intent. I almost believed him. Until his eyes slid to the left. He was lying.

“Y-you raped me,” I gasped out loud when I felt stickiness between my thighs.

Sebastian winced, walking backward with one hand raised outward toward me, and the other shielding his shiny dick with a pillow. “N-no. I would n-never do something like that. I’m not like that.”

“YOU KIDNAPPED ME!” I screamed, throwing a pillow at his head. “You threw me in a fucking trunk, and you say you’re not like that?” I sneered. “You’re completely like that.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, and tried reasoning with me once more. “I know it’s hard to understand right now, but that wasn’t me. I am not a bad guy.” He shot me a good ol’ boy smirk.

I was distracted by his hands on display. He was wearing gloves each time he’d touched me last night, but now, I could see the pair of gloves he wore were crumpled on the floor in his haste to get into bed with me.

I didn’t think his scars could be any worse, but his hands were definitely the worst I’d ever seen. I could hardly put in words the horror his skin must’ve endured. The skin was taut, stretched thin and uneven across his knuckles and palms, a patchwork of scars that looked as though they had been pulled too tight over the bone. The burns had disfigured them, the once strong, capable hands now marred by deep, puckered ridges, and jagged lines of scar tissue. His fingers, though still long and strong, were twisted slightly at the joints, as if even the tendons beneath had suffered in the heat.

The burns covered every inch of his hands, from the tips of his fingers to the wrists, as if he had plunged them into fire itself. And maybe he had, but it didn’t matter. He took me, and he wasn’t remorseful at all.

I wanted to scream. “You are that guy. The guy a woman wouldn’t want to be caught in the middle of the woods with.” I fixed my glare on him. “There is no good in you. You can’t use me as a lifeline. I can’t save you.” My voice cracked.

“Give me a chance. Just like the men in your prison program.” He smirked.

“How do you know about that?” I gasped in shock. “You are so wicked.” If I had a weapon, I would try to use it on him.

He spun around, giving me his back to leave the room, throwing apologies up left and right, but they were empty. I gasped and covered my mouth at the sight of his back. If I’d thought his hands were worse, his back showed how hard he must’ve fought to get out of whatever fire he’d been in.

The burns were far worse than the ones on his hands, like a canvas that had been tortured by flame. The skin there was an uneven patchwork of scars; some areas smooth, almost too smooth, where the skin had healed unnaturally tight, and others gnarled and jagged, raised in thick, irregular ridges that spoke of deeper wounds. The burns stretched from his shoulders all the way down to the small of his back, covering every inch of him in a chaotic maze of disfigurement.

It looked like his entire back had been consumed by fire and barely survived. The skin wasn’t just marred, it was ravaged. Some patches were shiny, as if the skin had been stretched thin over the muscle beneath, while other parts were rough, scarred tissue that looked like it had been pulled from somewhere else.

They’re grafts; I could tell now, even if I didn’t know the medical details. They were the pieces of his body that didn’t quite belong, sections where the color and texture shifted suddenly, abruptly, as though his body had been stitched back together like a quilt, each piece trying to hold onto what little life remained. There were no freckles, no moles, no natural lines. Just scars. Scars upon scars, crisscrossing in places, as if the fire had taken a blade to him along with the heat.

His shoulders were perhaps the most brutal. The burns there looked deeper, angrier, as if the fire had clung to him longer, refusing to let go. The skin puckered around the shoulder blades, tight and misshapen, and I could only imagine the pain he must have endured, the agony of movement in a body that had been so violently torn apart by flame.

But it was the center of his back that broke my heart. There, at the very core of him, the burn was the darkest, the tissue thick and uneven. It looked as though the fire had tried to swallow him whole, branding him with the evidence of its destruction, but leaving him just enough to survive.

And yet, as horrific as it was, there was something… hauntingly beautiful about it. Not in the sense that it was anything less than tragic, but because it was proof that he had lived through it. His back was a testament to his survival, a battle between flesh and fire that had left him scarred beyond recognition, but still standing.

When the door closed behind him, I let out a blood-curdling scream, picking up the nearest object and throwing it.

The lamp crashed into a ton of pieces when it collided with the wall, but it didn’t give me any satisfaction. I ran to the door and pounded on it, screaming at the top of my lungs. “Let me go.”

After a while of this, I stopped, sweaty and panting. I tried pleading with him. “If you really think you’re a good guy, you’ll let me go.” I heaved, trying to catch my breath. “Prove you’re a good man. Let me out of this room. Right. The fuck. Now.” I kicked the bottom of the door, and my toe throbbed.

Silence met my actions, and I understood he wasn’t coming back to let me go. I was not being let out, and he wasn’t a good man as he had tried to gaslight me into believing. I limped to the bathroom, realizing I could still feel him inside of me. I stepped into the shower, and threw it on as hot as it could go.

I scrubbed my body until I could see red, raised rug burns from the rag on my skin. Then I did it again until the water ran cold. When I turned off the water, and ran a towel over my body, I hissed from the pain.

I could ask Sebastian for some cream, but I wouldn’t. I’d rather my skin fell off than ask my rapist for any sort of kindness. I looked around for any clothes that I could wear. There were men’s dress shirts lined in color coded order in this closet.

I took one and threw it on my body, because it beat leaving myself naked.

I tried the knob of the bedroom door, and was surprised to find it wasn’t locked. I crept into the hallway, checking every nook and cranny for Sebastian. I didn’t want to get killed by his hands if I wasn’t supposed to leave my room.

The smell of bacon wafted up the stairs, and I followed my nose.

I reached a small alcove that led into an open layout kitchen. I could see the cooks as they prepared breakfast, but I could also see the dining area in which everyone was already seated.

I turned around, as if to walk right back out the door, when Sebastian stopped me in my tracks.

“Come sit, Dr. Rivers.”

Eden’s head jumped up in surprise as she saw me standing before her.

“Mya!” She jumped out of her seat and ran to give me a hug.

“How are you doing, girly?” I stroked a hand down her back, trying to give her a modicum of love while I could.

Who knew the next time Sebastian would allow me out of my room.

“I’m alright,” she lied. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to check on you, and make sure you’re making progress with some of the advanced techniques I showed you.”

She nodded before performing the SING defense movements. I wanted her to defend herself more, so a sick fuck like Darren didn’t hurt her again. It was a great way for her to let off steam as well.

“Oh, that makes sense.” Eden brought me back to our therapy session, dragging me out of my head. “Still doesn’t mean I trust it.”

“Expand on what you mean by that statement, Eden,” I implored.

“Well, because of everything that happened, I can’t help feeling like the other shoe is going to drop.” She hung her head.

“It’s natural to feel like that. Why don’t we explore some of these feelings in our next session.”

The table was deathly quiet, almost as if everyone was holding their breath, waiting to see if she would accept what I was saying. Eden nodded and walked back around the table, sitting down.

I went to follow, expecting to sit in the empty seat beside my patient, but Sebastian had other ideas. He snagged an arm around my waist and pulled me onto his lap, while I tried to squirm away.

Eden looked at me in surprise. “I didn’t know you knew my brother-in-law.”

“I don’t,” I said dryly, more focused on our bodies touching against my will.

She sent a questioning look in my direction, and I flushed. I knew what it looked like, but I would not address it. I wasn’t certain what Sebastian thought he was doing, but it wouldn’t work.

Sebastian’s voice cut through the indistinct murmur of conversation, a commanding presence that immediately drew every eye in the room. I tried to get away from him, but he clamped down, forcing me to still.

A room full of Caputos. I’d barely had time to stand first before he stood at the head of the polished table, tapping the side of his glass with a butter knife, like he was toasting some grand achievement. He held out a gloved hand toward me and cleared his throat.

“I have an announcement to make.”

I looked toward him like everyone else, all the Caputos seated and watching us, curiosity and thinly veiled disdain on some of their faces. But of course, I was nothing like these Italian women. They probably knew nothing about a black woman like myself, top in her field, and, basically, a bad bitch. These people weren’t on the same level. He grinned down at me with something almost manic in his gaze.

“Mya and I are getting married,” he announced, with a gleeful smile and a triumphant gleam in his eyes.

My stomach twisted, a sinking feeling as he gauged his family’s reaction. I wouldn’t let them know he was blackmailing me. Not until I knew who could help. I straightened my spine, forcing my expression into one of calm indifference, like I was assessing a patient, rather than being paraded around like some kind of trophy. But inside, I was anything but calm.

There was a small silence before the room burst into a cacophony. Everyone tried speaking at once, but I think I was the loudest with my resounding, “Hell fucking no,” in response.

There was a brief, stunned silence, followed by a ripple of gasps and murmurs, voices overlapping in disbelief that I would dare speak to the Don this way. My breath hitched in my throat. My vision narrowed, the edges of my world blurring, as I felt every set of eyes shift toward me. Judging. Dissecting. It felt like being pinned under a microscope, like a bug they’d caught in their trap. Sebastian glared daggers at me, before grabbing my arm and wrenching me into another room, slamming the door behind us.

“Need I remind you that you’ve been kidnapped? You don’t have a fucking say,” he whispered in my face, his leather-covered hand gripping my cheeks forcefully.

“Yes, I do, and the answer is no. I don’t know why you want to marry me, but I know that I am a human being with rights. You can’t do this to me.” My voice grew louder and louder, before Sebastian’s gloved hand slid down from my face, grabbing ahold of my neck.

His eyes flashed, and I could’ve sworn his entire demeanor changed to a more menacing aura.

“I can when your little prison reformation program is drugging those poor, unfortunate souls against their will, just so they will comply with the regulations needed to be released on parole,” he growled in my ear.

My breath hitched. How could he possibly know my secret? “That is not tru-”

He squeezed harder. “I would think twice about lying to me, firecracker.”

I couldn’t recognize his voice anymore. It was like Sebastian was a completely different person, and despite all my training, all my schooling, I was terrified.

“T-they de-deserved it,” I gasped out. “And I needed the sample group for clinical trials.”

“Ah, yes, the pharmaceutical company that turned down your precious drugs. What did they call you?” He paused like he was thinking. “A mad scientist?” He snapped his fingers like it just came to him.

The darkness I tried so hard to hide in my soul came floating to the surface, and I tried to stumble away from him, but he wouldn’t allow me any space.

“But that’s not your job now, is it, little firecracker?” he murmured.

I shook my head no, hoping with no avail to dislodge him. He squeezed tighter until black spots surrounded my gaze.

“You’ll play along or things will get messy.” He shook me a little as I struggled to respond.

“Y-yes,” I wheezed out. I stared at him, unblinking, trying to keep my composure, but it was no use.

He let go of me, and I dropped like a sack of potatoes, crumbling to the floor. I coughed, gagged, and wheezed, as I tried to catch my breath. I couldn’t look up at him. I wouldn’t. I wanted him to leave me alone while I gathered myself.

My mind spun with a hundred escape plans, but they all seemed futile.

“Stand,” he demanded.

I rose shakily to my feet. Sebastian wrapped a gloved hand around my upper bicep and dragged me into another room. When he flicked on the light, I realized it was the bathroom.

“Fix yourself up, I’ll be right outside.” With that threat, he slammed the door closed.

I sank to the floor and cried like a baby. I didn’t know how I was going to survive this. All my education, and it was like I was a fool trying to walk for the first time.

The weight of it all settled over me like a thick, suffocating fog, but I kept my chin up, my expression unyielding. I would not be caged by his games, not today, never. I might have been surrounded, outnumbered, and far from any sense of safety, but I was still me; a woman who refused to be owned, even by a man who thought he’d already won.

I wasn’t sure what I should do, but I would create a plan and get out of this. For now, I glanced up at the mirror and saw my unsightly appearance. I turned on the water and prepared to do what I was ordered.

Clean the fuck up.