Page 8 of Dangerous Games

“What I do know is that if you respect Dominic, he respects you. He is fair and honest.”

Fair and honest? There’s nothing fair or honest about him. He’s a lying scumbag who takes what he wants and doesn’t care about anyone or anything. I have to stifle a few cuss words that want to scream out of my throat.

“So, he hasn’t told you how long I’m staying?” Maybe that really does depend on Jimmy.

“No, he hasn’t. But I’m sure you’ll be sleeping soon. You just rest. You can ask him at breakfast.” With a wink, Mika is gone, and I am alone again, locked in my upstairs dungeon. I hear the lock click into place and I drink more of the tea. It’s cool enough now, I can gulp it. It’s a shame there isn’t more.

I tiptoe over to the tray and eye the cookies. They look good too, like they were baked fresh just for me. Maybe Dominic doesn’t know she brought them. Maybe I can eat just one of them. Despite my lie that I’m not hungry, I’m actually starving. I pick up one of the cookies, chocolate chip, and I take a nibble. They, like the tea, are perfect. I can’t help but gobble it up, then another, then the third one. The tray is empty, my stomach is sated—at least for now—and I am getting sleepy.

I finish the tea and turn down the bed, still feeling guilty for making Mika do that work. Now that the bed linens are back on the bed, I notice something I hadn’t noticed yet. On the floor next to the nightstand, I turned over, I see a framed image. I pick it up and study it. It’s Dominic, probably when he was still teen or early twenty-something. He stands next to another man on a fishing boat. The man could be his father or uncle; they resemble each other.

He is smiling, beaming with pride as he holds a line in hand, a large fish dangling from the hook at its end. I can’t imagine Dominic as a normal young man, happy and well-adjusted with normal hobbies. But this picture reveals a side of him that’s softer, warmer. There is a natural shine in his eyes, like a happy boy with his family, not this beast who has me caged. What happened to him to make him become like this? Because that young man doesn’t look like the sort to lock women up and treat them like slaves.

I set the image on the dresser next to the empty tray and cup, then climb into bed. It’s comfortable, and slowly warms by my body heat. I stare at the photo from across the room. Dominic is very good looking. Probably the most handsome man I’ve ever met. Seeing a softer side of him when he was younger isn’t good for my conscience. I want to hate him, stay angry with his behavior, but it softens my view of him. That image humanizes him, making me weak to his charm and understand that if I’m as fucked up as I am because of what happened to me, then maybe he has a story too. Maybe he isn’t the beast I think he is.

I close my eyes, now feeling so heavy I can barely move. I yawn and pull the covers up around my shoulders and lie on my side. My mind goes back to Jimmy. I remember before my trauma, before that horrible day, Jimmy was just like young Dominic. We went to the bay and fished with Dad then too. We loved it. And when everything happened, Jimmy changed. I changed. It destroyed our family. We were never the same again after that.

Is Jimmy a monster too? Had that changed him the way Dominic changed?

No, Jimmy isn’t like that.

Yes, he is a hitman, but he only takes a job when he knows the person is a really bad person who needs to die in order to let others live their life and not be harmed. He swore that to me, right after that night. That he’d never hurt anyone who doesn’t deserve it.

I clung to the spare pillow, hugging it to my chest as I fell asleep. God, Jimmy, finish this job. I want to go home.

5

DOMINIC

My office is my refuge, a safe haven for my angry thoughts to swirl and multiply. Nanette can’t even play nice for dinner without rousing my temper. I pour myself a glass of Johnny Walker Blue and sink into my chair. The leather squeaks as I lean back, propping my feet on the corner of my desk, and I flip on the closed-circuit TV to see if she’s calmed yet. She hasn’t. It’s worse. She’s not just banging on the door demanding to be let out. Now she’s throwing things around.

And she’s naked.

That fact is the one I focus on most. The camera is state of the art. I may as well be in the room with her. The way her tits bounce in her fury as she empties the closet, then the drawers, makes my dick hard. She’s fiery. I like it. The anger she displays as she tears things apart reminds me of myself, the way I let loose sometimes, though not quite in the same way.

I sip the whiskey and continue watching her, thinking how sexy she’d look if she only took off those panties too. She doesn’t realize that I get off on this, watching her process her trauma this way. She thinks she’s destroying the room because she hates me, but I can see it in her eyes. She’s punishing someone, herself maybe, for something in her past. That much rage doesn’t spring up easily, and I’ve only just scratched the surface.

Her questions linger in my thoughts as I study her. She’s very fascinated with her brother or obsessed maybe. They’re closer than even I knew they were, and I want to know why. What causes her to feel the compulsion to protect him at any cost? She may not know who I am, but I’ve warned her enough what the consequences may be for her outbursts, and still she lashes out. Why? What makes Jimmy so important to her that she won’t even sacrifice him to save herself?

Mika walks in, bringing the tea I ordered for Nanette. The TV is muted, but I see Nanette calm instantly. She is timid now. Meek? With the maid? But her eyes are on the door; she’s thinking of escape. But she doesn’t do it. Perhaps Mika has given her some wisdom, or maybe she understands the stakes after all.

Another gulp of whiskey goes down as the maid makes the bed and Nanette puts a t-shirt on. She looks hot in anything she wears, but those black panties and the white t-shirt set my dick on fire. It’s like she’s toying with me on purpose, driving me mad with lust. When she takes the tea and drinks it, I’m satisfied. Everything will be put in order while she sleeps, further proof to her that she is dealing with a powerful man.

I pull out my cell and dial Jimmy’s number. Nanette isn’t a handful. In fact, I want her to stay here longer, until I figure her out, but Jimmy needs to get his job done or I’m going to hurt him. Badly. The phone rings through and Jimmy answers, half-drunk maybe. His words are slurred.

“Dom… hey, I—”

“Tell me you have something.” I’m not in the mood for his begging and whining. All I want is for him to finish the job so I can move on with business. Too much is riding on this, too many business deals dangling mid-process.

“Look, can’t you just let her go? She doesn’t have to be a part of this. She will never find out who you are or what I’m doing.”

“Nanette is staying here until your job is finished, so let me know what you have, and I’ll be nice to her. Or we can do this the hard way and I can mail her back to you piece by piece.” I sip my Scotch again, letting the warmth trickle down my throat. I need several more drinks just to deal with him, but I don’t have time to wait for them to kick in.

“Let her go, dammit! She has nothing to do with this.”

“Jimmy, Jimmy, why haven’t you figured out by now that I am the one calling the shots here? You remember how it felt to have my boot in your gut? Well how do you think Nanette is going to feel when she watches you take a bullet and then I finish her too?” I have no intentions of finishing Nanette off, at least not if Jimmy does his job. She’s too alluring, addictive even.

“This isn’t funny, Dominic. I’m going to call the police. You can’t—”

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