Blackmailed to the Altar (Caputo Crime Family #2)

6. Chapter Six

CHAPTER SIX

D r. Mya

I can’t believe that happened. My thoughts were discombobulated. This kidnapper, who hasn’t even had the decency to introduce himself to me, but wanted to marry me? I blinked and sat in the passenger’s seat of a sporty Maserati.

We sped down a highway, and neither of us tried to speak to the other. For me, it was the kidnapping and rape of it all. I needed some time to myself to decompress after everything I’d gone through.

Maybe now would be a good time to take a vacation, if I ever got out of my present situation.

“Sebastian,” he grunted toward me.

“Hmm, is that supposed to be your name, or the name of the destination we are headed to?”

“My name.”

I could feel his eyes on the side of my face, but I refused to look his way.

“I guess I can’t keep calling him kidnapper,” I muttered.

“What are you saying?” he demanded.

I shook my head as I noticed we were exiting. We drove through the streets of a city. I hadn’t seen the sign when we were driving past it, so I wasn’t sure which one. We parked at a high-end boutique and salon, and he helped me out of the car after security surrounded us. They escorted us inside like we were some kind of celebrities, each one silent and deadly, carrying their weapon.

I looked around and saw the melanin in the store, and I immediately relaxed. Sebastian seemed to know that I wouldn’t take too kindly to some run-of-the-mill franchise hair salon to take care of my curls.

I wanted my people.

I stared at my reflection in the salon mirror, trying to steady my breath as the stylist worked her hands through my hair, combing and stretching my curls out with mechanical precision.

“You’ve got that good hair, girl,” she murmured.

My teeth sat on edge, but I said nothing until she got to my crown. She tried to rake the comb from scalp to end, but it stuck not an inch down. “Oop, there it is.”

“There what is?” I grunted.

“Mother Africa, I was wondering where it was with the company you keep with you.” The stylist kept fixing my curls into a blowout, like she hadn’t insulted me, but I felt annoyed by everything she did after what she said.

It was always like this when I got my hair fixed, which was why I rarely went. I couldn’t stand stylists that went on and on about me having the good hair, or the good curls. The way she was talking made me highly uncomfortable.

“Stop,” Sebastian ordered.

The stylist didn’t heed. She kept combing, and grumbling about privilege, and I shrank in her chair. That uncomfortable feeling when a microaggression happened started filling my chest. I didn’t want to be here anymore. I’d rather finish my hair myself.

A gunshot rang out, and the other girls in the salon started screaming. The stylist who’d been working on my hair dropped dead to the floor. Sebastian stood in the middle of the salon, gun drawn toward them, and addressed the rest of the staff.

“Anyone else have a problem doing my mouse’s hair in silence?” he growled.

No one said anything, but one of the older women tsked. She brushed past Sebastian. “Put your gun away. I ain’t scared of it. My father was a part of the life.”

Sebastian snapped his fingers, and two of his men picked the dead stylist up, carrying her lifeless corpse out the back door of the salon.

The bright lights overhead were almost too much, their glare only adding to the surreal nightmare I was trapped in. I was here, sitting in a high-end salon chair, covered in blood. My body was stuck in fear from the entire situation.

Sebastian sat in the chair next to mine. “What’s wrong, little mouse?” His dark voice made me tremble in my chair.

I looked at the stylist in the mirror then back at him. “N-nothing,” I whispered.

“Leave us.” He motioned for the lady to leave, and she didn’t hesitate to put down her tools and leave us alone, along with everyone else in the salon. I didn’t know where they all went, but it was out the back door, and I sat with the Devil.

“Are you afraid of me?” He leaned back in the chair casually, like I wasn’t covered in a woman’s blood.

“You just killed someone in front of me. Don’t you have anything to say?” I muttered. I didn’t want to tick him off by raising my voice, but maybe I could use some of my techniques on him to get him to calm down.

He shrugged. “It was nothing.”

“Sebastian,” I mumbled. “It was not nothing. You need to talk about what just happened.”

His distant gaze flicked to mine in the mirrors. “Get used to it, little mouse. Something like this happens every day.”

I took a deep breath, focusing on grounding myself. “It wasn’t nothing. You killed her, and this isn’t the first time you’ve allowed anger to sway you. Your anger–”

“I said it was nothing,” he interrupted with a growl. “Drop it.”

“Sebastian,” I began again, more firmly this time. “This anger you carry; it’s destructive. You’re using it as a shield, but it’s only hurting you. This lifestyle, your role, it’s built on violence. It will eat you from the inside out. Tear you up inside.”

He scoffed. “My lifestyle? You mean what was chosen for me. I was raised like this, little mouse, and one brief therapy session will not change who I am.”

“Not overnight,” I admitted, my voice gentle but firm. “But change is possible if you want it. I’ve seen men like you before; men who think they’re trapped by their past, by their choices, by the lives they’ve been forced into. But you’re not just that, Sebastian. You’re more than this violence.”

His eyes narrowed, and I could see the flicker of something deeper behind them, something vulnerable. But then, just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by a mask of indifference.

“You know nothing,” he said, his voice flat. “You don’t know what it’s like to live in my world. The mafia isn’t a therapy case, little mouse. It’s survival. You can’t fix me, because there’s nothing to fix. This is who I am. A monster.”

I felt a pang in my chest, his words sinking deep. “You’re not a monster, Sebastian,” I whispered. “But you’re letting yourself become one.”

He stood abruptly, towering over me as he loomed closer, his dark gaze bearing down on me. “No, little mouse. I am a monster. I was made this way, and you can’t change that. No one can. This is the life I was born into, and there’s no escape. Not for me. Not for you.”

The finality in his words echoed in the quiet salon, heavy and unyielding. I opened my mouth to respond, to say anything, but there were no words that could break through the walls he’d built around himself. Not right now.

Sebastian turned his back to me, his posture rigid, and I could feel the weight of his decision settling over us like a dark cloud. There was no convincing him, not today. Not here.

“Don’t test me, little mouse,” he hissed, his voice like a distant storm. “Don’t think you can save me.” He stalked to the back door and motioned a gloved hand. His men came back in, and the stylist was right behind them.

She got back into place like nothing had happened, and started on my hair again. I sat like a little doll. Every brushstroke felt like a violation, each tug and twist reminding me I wasn’t here by choice. I was his prisoner, dressed up as his guest, forced into this facade of luxury and normalcy as his soon-to-be wife.

Sebastian sat back down a little while later in the waiting area, talking to a jeweler he’d insisted met us here. The man laid out trays of diamonds and rubies, like this was just another shopping day, oblivious to the twisted game being played.

Before we left the car, he’d growled in my ear. “Play nice, or you’ll never leave the villa again.”

I didn’t want to test him, not after the conversation we’d just shared.

“You said you brought the best,” Sebastian’s raised voice grabbed my attention over the blow dryer.

The man motioned to something in his case and said something in his defense, but Sebastian wasn’t hearing it. He motioned for his men to drag the pleading man out back behind the salon. I heard nothing but screams until Sebastian came back inside, with his suit a little wrinkled.

I thought I saw some dark stain on his cufflink, but he hastily fixed his suit jacket. The blow dryer clicked off, and the straightener was grabbed, as the new stylist worked quickly and quietly. The entire salon was tense. No one spoke. Other customers finished their services, and paid quickly, before rushing out with fear on their faces.

Sebastian threw a huge wad of one hundred dollar bills on the counter at checkout, once my hair was finished. “For your trouble.” That was all he said, and we moved back to the car in the middle of a circle of security.

We traveled to a small city, and on some tiny road was a tiny jewelry store.

“Stay here,” he growled out his command, before stomping out of the car, and slamming the door. He walked around to my side and held the door open with one gloved hand, the other extended toward me.

I reluctantly slid my hand inside his, and he ushered me into the store.

“Hello? How are you doing today?” A gorgeous black woman wearing locs worked the counter in a smart, dark blue suit.

“Oh,” I gasped. “I love your hair.”

She grinned and touched one of her locs while I looked at her name tag. Adria.

“Thank you so much.”

I ignored Sebastian as he walked around, looking at each case. I didn’t care what he picked out. If he wasn’t blackmailing me, this wouldn’t be happening. But what choice did I have?

While I looked good in orange, it wasn’t my preferred color.

“You’re welcome. I’ve always wanted to get locs done to my hair.” I pulled at my silky locks allowing them to run through my hand.

“Oh, you should. They would look great on yo–”

“No,” the barbarian that was with me spoke up.

“Excuse you.” He glared at me, and I hastily changed my tone. “Honey, I don’t think you get much of a say in how my hair is done. Besides, locs would be low maintenance for our situation.” I wiggled my eyebrows playfully, forgetting for a second how we got in this situation.

“If you need something for your hair, we can go get it. You don’t have to change it because I know nothing about girly shit. I will learn.” His eyes looked over my head.

He probably didn’t understand why this was so important. But I’d been kidnapped. Even with my hair blown out right now, when would I have found time to do my hair routine?

I turned toward the glass, and my eyes caught on a sparkling gem.

“Oh, that blue diamond would look lovely on you,” Adria gushed.

She rushed over and pulled it out, quickly trying to slip it onto my ring finger. Sebastian waved her away, and grabbed my hand in his gloved one. He slowly slid the ring on my finger, and I looked down. I fell in love instantly, but shook my head to the contrary, taking it off. “I don’t think it suits me.”

“Do you have a matching set?” Sebastian asked, like I hadn’t turned down the ring.

“Yes, in the back.” Adria motioned behind her.

“Get that and bag them up. I’ll take them.”

As she scurried off to do his bidding, I stared at Sebastian wide eyed.

“That was so expensive. Why did you waste it on me?”

He chuckled. “The fact that you believe it to be a waste means that it was money well spent, little mouse.”

If I gave in to this, would I be a bad person? I know I should fight against him even more, or ask this sales woman for help, but I’m not an idiot. I was lucky she even spoke English to begin with.

I also couldn’t help feeling bad about the darkness I saw deep inside of Sebastian. He was hiding a tremendous secret that weighed down on him. I could see it in the way he held himself. And well, I couldn’t help but be curious.

I would stay around, not only to sate my nosiness, but to help Eden as well. Once I was certain she was settled, I could attempt another escape. I just needed to smile and follow his rules for now. Bide my time. Should be easy enough.

But as Sebastian wrapped an arm around my waist and squeezed me into his body, I wondered how hard I would stick to my guns. Heat unfurled inside my body when he leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on the side of my neck.

It stunned me into silence. What the fuck was going on?

Sebastian, the controlling bastard, offered an office of his choosing, for me to use for my sessions involving Eden. I should’ve been grateful, but I honestly didn’t want any preferential treatment at all.

I’d rather he acted his same old asshole self, so I could focus on what I loved best. Eden Caputo walked into Sebastian’s office, drawing my mind to why we were here.

“How are you doing today, Eden? Take a seat.” I moved from the desk to another chair that was facing the couch.

Eden liked to be comfortable during her sessions. “I’m fine,” she sighed. I noticed her hand was rubbing her lower back.

“What seems to be the problem today?” Eden was one of the most difficult patients I had, because she didn’t just spill her life story. Getting information out of her was like pulling a stubborn tooth. I had to poke and prod gently, and wiggle it out of her, until she felt comfortable enough to tell me.

“I’m pregnant again,” she spat. I could see the fire in her eyes, which was alarming, since Eden always seemed to keep her emotions under wraps.

“You’re not happy about this?” I posed it as a question. With Eden, it was best to not make assumptions. Sometimes, the way she appeared on the outside was polar opposite to the way she felt inside, but I enjoyed the challenge in trying to suss her true feelings out. I enjoyed her company, as well.

“Silas promised he would give me two years before we had another one,” Eden snapped. She was already pulling at her fingernails, a nervous tic she’d picked up after her time locked away. Her treatment records showed it stemmed from her uncle.

“Did he break that promise, or was this just an accident?” I tried to keep the conversation flowing without setting her off. It didn’t seem like today was kink-related, which was great, because I hadn’t gotten enough studying done on auralism.

“Oh, he broke many,” Eden muttered. Her tone was what I could only describe as bitter, and I delved further, encouraging her to talk without being overbearing or demanding.

“How so?”

“He threw my birth control away, and when I fought him on it, reminding him of his promise, he went to get the newest prescription. Of course, I didn’t question him on it. Since having baby Heaven, Silas has taken it upon himself to do everything for me.” Eden took a breath.

“And that’s a bad thing?”

She pouted. “Well, no, but he took it too far. He refused to use condoms. I told him my birth control tasted funny, and he said it must have been a bad batch. He got me more, and I told him it was too sweet. He told me there was nothing wrong with it. Finally, I did some sleuthing, and found he was changing out my pills with candy pieces. He gaslit me.”

Eden was fired up now. She was no longer lying down on the couch, having stood to pace during her increasingly emotional rant. I knew after looking over her file that she was not the sort of person to sit idly by, but I also knew she needed a little guidance.

“Eden, are you upset about this baby?” Even while I was asking her this question, I thought back, trying to trace my period. When was the last time I had it? I couldn’t remember, but with the trauma of my kidnapping, it was no wonder I was late.

She stopped pacing. “Well, no. I love this baby just like I love Heaven.”

“So, the genuine issue is Silas betraying you,” I suggested. Think, Mya, when was the last time I needed a tampon? It may have been a few weeks. Fuck.

“Yes,” she whispered and sank to the couch in defeat. What a callous man. I hoped I would get my period soon. My body felt off.

“Have there been other times where Silas has betrayed you?” Like not protecting a partner wasn’t a big deal.

“Yes.” Eden’s eyes filled with tears.

I knew we’d have a breakthrough today. Outwardly, I looked calm and collected, but inwardly, I was squealing and jumping for joy. It really was hard to get Eden to open up to me, and I was glad that today was a step in the right direction. I clicked my pen open and flipped to a new page in my notebook. When Eden wouldn’t open up, I doodled on the page, so she wouldn’t feel surprised once I started taking notes.

I liked to keep everything uniform in session. If I sat through a session and didn’t take notes in the beginning, only to take notes randomly, a client could think there was something wrong with what they said. They would over-analyze it, and that could lead to anxiety, panic attacks, even depression or self-doubt. I never wanted to cause someone’s emotional breakdown, so it was best all around if I looked like I was taking notes the entire session.

“These betrayals of Silas’, can you tell me about them?” I tried to focus on her tale, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was missing something. My mind grasped at a thought, but it drifted away just as quickly. I shook my head. I needed to focus on my patient in front of me. Everything else could wait.

Eden leaned forward with a gleam in her eyes. That single look told me there was a lot missing from her file. I clicked my pen twice and got to work.