Page 3 of Keeping My Girl

CHAPTER2

Selina McCall

ISTUMBLE MY way back towards the ballroom. My hands are still shaking from my encounter with the man in the hallway. He was the very definition of tall, dark and handsome, wearing an expensive, black tailored suit. But the way he looked at me, with those steel gray eyes behind his gold mask, unnerved me. It was almost as if he were trying to figure me out somehow; like a riddle he wanted to solve. And I hated the way his eyes seemed to stare through me to my very soul, like he could see all of my fears and flaws that I so desperately try to keep hidden and locked away deep within me.

I grab a flute of champagne from the nearest table as I absently rub at my chin, remembering the way he touched me, so gently, like I’m made of glass. I’ve never had a man touch me like that before. A violent shiver runs through me just then as I glance over my shoulder, expecting to see him following me. But he’s not there.

A sense of relief surges through my veins as I down the expensive champagne in one long swallow before setting the empty glass back down. I need to avoid any other encounters with that man…and everyone else at this party, for that matter. God forbid if I would do something wrong or cause a scene. I would probably never see the light of day again. I shudder at the thought of that. The fact that I’m even here right now, in public and away from the man who has held me captive for the past decade is almost unimaginable.

I don’t even want to be at this stupid party, but it’s not as if I have a choice in the matter. No, Constantine Carbone does whatever he wants. And tonight, he decided to rent me out to his son like a hooker.

The thought of running has crossed my mind a time or two, but I know I wouldn’t get very far. Constantine always finds me. And the last time I tried to run…let’s just say it scarred me for the rest of my life. I won’t ever try to get away again. I will remain his perfect little pet just like he wants. I won’t be responsible for anyone else getting hurt because of me.

I drink three more glasses of champagne before I steel my spine and make my way towards my date for the night. I’m going to need all the liquid courage I can get. Gino Carbone is cruel and demanding, just like his father. A cookie cutter cut-out of his old man — minus the good looks and charm.

When Constantine first bought me at the tender age of thirteen, Gino was only a few years older than me. I made the mistake of thinking that he was kind, that he would help me. I learned my first lesson a few weeks later when he and his father took turns beating and raping me.

I never trusted that bastard again. And I loathe the fact that I have to be here with him tonight while he parades me around like a real date and not just the woman he occasionally assaults and uses as his own personal punching bag.

Once I’m at his side again, I reach for another glass of champagne from a waiter passing by, but Gino clucks his teeth in disapproval. “I want you sober,” he says before pulling me close and nipping at my earlobe like we’re two lovers who can’t keep their hands off each other. I pull away from him in disgust, and he grabs my arm in a bruising grip. His dark eyes glare at me as he mutters angrily, “Do we need to go over your manners again?”

“No,” I say with a vehement shake of my head.

“No, what?” he demands.

“No, sir.” It takes everything in me at that moment not to roll my eyes. Constantine tried to break me over the years, and maybe he succeeded, but the drugs he supplies me with make me feel like I have superpowers, like I can conquer the world. I think deep down he likes the defiant streak in me. It makes it that much harder to break me, something he loves doing to all of his women. And I’ve seen him break so many that they will forever haunt my nightmares.

“I like my whores compliant. Don’t make me beat your defiance out of you again,” Gino warns under his breath.

I wince at his words and at the memory of him whipping me with his belt just a few days ago. I still have the bruises all over my body and the cuts from when the buckle caught my skin. He was high on blow and his girlfriend had just cheated on him. Reason enough to take his anger out on me I suppose.

I fidget in my high heels. The concoction of benzos I took hours ago are beginning to wear off. Constantine promised me that his son would give me some whenever I needed, and that was the only way I agreed to this little outing. Constantine knows I’m addicted. I can’t go without my precious medicine. And I have done some foul, unforgivable things in order to catch the next high. The pills are the only thing that keep me going most days. Otherwise I would probably sink down into a dark void, never to be found again.

“Stop fidgeting,” Gino snaps, bringing me out of my racing thoughts.

“I’m sorry. I need my pills. Your father said —.”

“Fuck what my father said,” he says, cutting me off.

If Constantine could hear those words, his son would be in major trouble. Nobody defies the great almighty Constantine Carbone, not even his own son.

My skin feels like it’s on fire, and I have the urge to scratch until I open my flesh and begin to bleed. I start at my wrist, but Gino snags my hand and holds it sternly between us.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he growls angrily.

“I need my pills,” I beg him.

“Let’s go upstairs. You’re pissing me off.” He grabs my arm roughly, pulling me along with him.

I nod in agreement. Yes, let’s go somewhere private where I can take my medicine. Constantine promised me Gino would give me my pills before he tried anything.

We start for the staircase when I hear someone call out, “Carbone!”

I wince, thinking that Gino will turn around and begin talking, delaying me my high. But luckily, he just waves off the person, and we continue up the stairs to the second floor.

I can barely walk in a straight line. Sweat beads on my brow, and I feel like I’m going to pass out or be sick. I’ve never gone this long without my medicine before. The fear of going through withdrawal has me trying to hurry along, but Gino keeps a firm grip on me, guiding me at his own pace.

My mask feels like it’s suffocating me, so I rip it off my face and drop it in the hallway, not caring if I ever see the damn thing again.

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