Page 104 of Savage Enemy

“Whatever you need,” Aris said.

“The pakhan’sson is particular. There must be no defects. No diseases. No curves created by padding or undergarments. No illusion of this shape.”

His gaze wandered down my body, making me want to crawl out of my skin.

No one said a word to me.

No one acknowledged the fact that I was in the room.

Until Aris came up behind me, grabbed onto my dress, and tore down the zipper.

The entire thing fell to the floor, exposing the white lace someone had chosen for me to wear beneath it.

My skin flushed under the weight of their stares.

Not from Marco or Santo, though.

They kept their eyes focused on the floor.

“All of it,” the Russian said. “She must strip for a full inspection.”

I closed my eyes and drifted away, out of my body, somewhere else. Anywhere but there.

The idea squeezed my heart, but I forced myself to let the thoughts come anyway. Thoughts of how Stefano and Enzo would help each other through the grief after my death.

How Stefano would take care of Enzo. He might move on and have more kids with another woman, but she would be kind to Enzo. She would treat him like her own, and he would love her for it.

Not the same way he loved me, but it would be something.

Aris pinched one of the bruises on my side while he said something I didn’t even bother to hear.

I squeezed my eyes shut tighter as the air shifted with the Russian’s movements and let go of my thoughts again.

Enzo wouldn’t call her Mama but would still give her gifts on Mother’s Day. That would be enough for her.

Stefano and our son would go out, just the two of them, every year on my birthday and talk about me.

Stefano would tell him about the girl I’d been when he met me, and Enzo might share his favorite memories from when it had been just him and me.

Maybe when my son had siblings, he would read stories to them like I’d read to him. When he got older and had a wife of his own, he would tell her about me.

Aris pinched me again, harder this time, forcing me back to the present.

My fucking eyes flew open.

Saul studied me in a clinical manner, like trying to put a dollar value on a horse. The Russian looked on with thinly veiled lust, and Aris admired the kaleidoscope of colors he’d painted on my body with his fists.

Marco and Santo hadn’t moved, their eyes dead as they stared at nothing, maybe refusing to see anything at all because they couldn’t make it stop.

Dissociation was powerful, and I intended to master it.

The dumb-fuck Russian laughed and slapped my ass.

“She can take a beating. That will serve her well.”

I bit the inside of my cheek, ignoring the sting. Just one more drop in the bucket of pain and humiliation.

“A woman must be tough to make strong boys,” Saul said, like being beaten somehow earned me a badge of honor.

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