Page 37 of His Brother's Wife
“Hello, my darling.”
Ama struggled into a sitting position and saw she was in a cell-type room, with gray concrete walls and no windows. “Where’s my sister?”
Jackson smiled. “Safe. Her room is significantly more comfortable than this one. If you’re good, I’ll consider putting you together.”
Ama’s chest tightened even further. “You have me now, Jackson. Let her go. Please.” Everything inside her rebelled against begging him, but for Selima’s safety, she would do anything.
Jackson laughed. “Really? You think it’s that easy?”
He came to sit next to her. “Now, I’m going to untie you. If you try anything, my men will torture Selima before they kill her. Do you understand?”
Ama nodded and Jackson pulled out a knife. He cut the plastic ties and Ama rubbed her wrists in relief, eyeing the blade Jackson held. He saw her watching it and grinned. “Yep. I don’t even need to tell you that this will end up in your gorgeous body if you even think about escaping, do I?”
“What do you want from me, Jackson?”
He leaned over and crushed his lips against hers before answering her. “My wife. That’s not too much to ask, is it?”
“So why keep Selima? Please, Jackson, I’ll do whatever you want. Just let her go.”
Jackson studied her. “Prove to me you can be a good, obedient wife and I’ll consider it. I promise you that. But you need to be my wife in every way, Ama. Every way. Do you understand?”
Ama closed her eyes and nodded.God, Enda …forgive me.She felt Jackson’s fingers unbuttoning her dress and felt the cold air on her bare skin as he undressed her. She took her mind out of the moment as he fixed his mouth on her breasts and her belly.Pretend it’s not him, she told herself over and over. She wanted to conjure a good memory of her and Enda, but then pushed that thought away. She didn’t want to forever link this rape—and that was what it was—to the glorious lovemaking she and Enda shared.
As Jackson pulled her legs around him and thrust into her, a tear slid down Ama’s face. If it weren't for Selima, she would have rather died than give in to the repellent man inside her now. Jackson fucked her, grunting and shouting her name so loudly, she wondered with a pang if, wherever Selima was, she heard it and knew what was happening.
That hurt the most. As Jackson finished, Ama could not help but burst into tears. Jackson grinned. “Yeah, cry all you want. Next time, I expect you to at least act like you enjoy it. If you do, I’ll take you to your sister, but, by god, Ama, you better give the performance of your life.”
Enda couldn’t sleep. He was staying with Olivier, and his brother did everything to help Enda feel positive and hopeful. But even though he adored Olivier, his brother couldn’t lift the black cloud that stayed with him at all times. Enda missed Ama—her presence, her voice, her laugh, and her scent. He hated that he woke up alone. Now, in the early morning hours, he lay on his back and looked over to ‘her’ side of the bed. He pictured her sleeping on her stomach, her eyes closed, the thick, dark lashes sweeping her cheeks. Her green eyes opening sleepily, but softening when she saw him.
“Hello, baby.”
He would lean over and brush his lips against hers, then make her laugh by rubbing his stubbly chin against hers. She would stretch that heavenly body as he moved across the bed, his cock already straining and engorged for her, and she would open her arms to him, her legs winding around his hips as he slid into her velvety, wet cunt. They would make love slowly, savoring every sensation that rippled through them both, not caring about morning breath, just gazing at each other. Love. Such pure love. As they became more excited and his thrusts became harder, faster, and deeper, he would hear her gasps for air. When she came, back arching, her belly against his, her head thrown back, her pink lips parted as she gave a moan of release.
Ama …
The sorrow inside him was crushing him, and Enda got out of bed and dressed. He couldn’t just sit here and wait for the police to show up and tell him they’d found her body. Even if Olivier was right and Ama knew how to manipulate Jackson, the thought of what she might have to do killed Enda.
He crept out of the house and got into his car. The police said the old Gallo mansion had been gutted in the fire; he was going to go there and see if he could find any clue, anything at all, left in the ashes of the place to tell him where Jackson was holding Ama.
“No! No! Don’t. Please don’t. I did what you asked me to do!”
Ama woke with a start. Lena …they’d killed her, but what had she meant by, ‘I did what you asked me to do?’ Was she in on the kidnapping? Ama felt sick, dashed to the little toilet in the corner of the room, and threw up and up until she collapsed, exhausted, onto the floor. For the first time, she noticed a small camera high in the corner of the room, trained on the bed. He was watching her. Ama’s skin began to crawl. How the hell was she going to escape him? More importantly, how was she going to protect Selima from him?
Ama winced now. The wound in her side from the glass at the conservatory had been patched up by whomever had brought her back to Jackson, but the dressing felt heavy. She eased it off and moaned. The wound had been stitched, but the skin around it looked angry and red. Infection. Fuck. If blood poisoning killed her, Jackson would have no reason to release Selima or even keep her alive. Ama knew, with a sinking heart, she would have to ask him for help. She stumbled over to where the camera was pointing and indicated her wound to it.
“It’s infected,” she said, not knowing if the room was bugged or if anyone could hear her. “I need antibiotics.”
She sat back down on the bed, feeling feverish and sick. Ten minutes later, the door unlocked, and Jackson entered, followed by a smaller, nervous-looking man.
“This is Dr. Harris,” Jackson said shortly. “He’s here to help you.”
Ama nodded and tried to smile at the doctor. “My wound is infected.”
Dr. Harris sighed and looked at Jackson. “I told you, Mr. Gallo. That wound is deep. I tried my best, but I’m not a surgeon. She needs to be in the hospital.”
Jackson’s face was blank. “Not going to happen. Dr. Harris, I assume you realize what will happen if Ama dies of this infection?”
The doctor looked sick, but nodded. “I will have to take some blood, though. I will try to get them processed quickly and anonymously. In the meantime, I’ll clean up the wound and give Mrs. Gallo some antibiotics.”
