Ruthless Heir: Chapter 13

Down the hallway, I can hear a new set of feet ascending some unseen staircase. Each step rattles through my chest, filling me with more dread.

Who the hell is this person?

Gabriel made her sound like some sort of psychopath, and I can’t help but imagine a twisted beast of a woman lunging for me the second she appears in my doorway.

Shit.

It doesn’t matter that my bedroom door is finally open. I’m not free. Far from it. Hell, I’m more cornered than ever.

Turning around, I shuffle back to the mattress. But there’s nothing there that’s going to save me, only blood-stained sheets and the thin nightgown that Gabriel ripped off my body just before he fucked my brains out.

Fucking hell. I can’t believe that just happened… or how amazing it felt.

My legs quiver as I drop the damp towel from around my body, and replace it with the nightgown.

It feels like a small miracle that I’m even able to stand.

My pussy throbs with a burning soreness. My knees are weak and my heart pounds like a jackhammer behind my chest.

But there’s hardly time to dwell on the fact that Gabriel fucking Corso just popped my cherry. Not that there’s any way I’m ever going to be able to forget the feeling of his huge cock spearing me over and over again… or the blood that followed.

But his brutality won’t be all that I remember. No matter how savage his passion was, I’ll never forget how gentle he acted afterwards.

Even if he tried to cut me with his words, I could tell it was only to keep me from falling into a numb state of shock.

Still, even his words eventually turned soft. Not only did Gabriel wash me off in the shower, he opened himself up and spilled his guts.

My pounding heart clenches at the fresh memory.

Sure, Gabriel only told me what he did so I’d understand why he could never let me go, but he didn’t have to get so vulnerable about it. He didn’t have to tell me about his parents. About how they were so ruthlessly murdered.

No. Don’t get lost in misplaced sympathy, Bianca. Focus on the present. Focus on the next threat.

You’ve been captured. You’re in the den of an enemy. You’re being used.

Taking a deep breath, I turn myself around and wait for my new overseer to arrive.

All I know is that it will be a girl. But what kind of girl does a man like Gabriel associate with?

A disturbing flame of jealousy flashes behind my aching chest before I extinguish it with sheer force of will.

There is no way I’m doing that. No. Way.

Out in the hallway, the footsteps have disappeared. But I know that’s only because the floor is carpeted. Whoever this ‘maid’ is, she’s close, and she’s getting closer by the second.

My sore body tenses as I wait to see what kind of she-devil Gabriel has sent to watch over me.

I’m not sure what I’m expecting, but it certainly isn’t what suddenly appears in my doorway.

A dark vision of dangerous beauty.

“Hello, darling.”

It’s like I’m staring at the world’s most gorgeous assassin.

“I… uh… who are you?” I stumble, subtly leaning against the mattress.

“I’m Rozalia,” she smiles, dark red lips lifting her high cheekbones. “You must be Bianca.”

“That’s right.”

The woman couldn’t be much older than me, if even at all. Long and slender, with a snatched waist and perfect pale skin, she struts towards me like a cat, draped in a tight black turtleneck and leather pants.

Her sharp green eyes study me with a ferocious intensity, as if she’s trying to decide whether I’m prey or competition. All I can do to bolster my case is stand up a little straighter and wait for her to step a few feet before me.

Our eyes are nearly level, and it looks like we’d be almost the same height if the top of her shaved-sides, black-haired pixie-cut wasn’t casually spiked upward.

“So, you’re the one who’s been giving my Gabriel so much trouble,” she says. The smile not leaving her lips.

My Gabriel.

Fuck. There it is again. A little shock of unwelcomed jealousy.

“He’s the one who’s been causing the trouble,” I assure her, my voice shaking ever-so-slightly as I try to gauge the threat standing before me.

“Well, I can see why.” Those cat-like green eyes look me up and down, from head to toe, before an approving nod bounces her softly gelled hair. “You’re definitely his type.”

“His type?” I hear myself blurt out.

“Easy there, girl. I’m just joking around. Gabriel doesn’t have types. He has obsessions. And for years now, he’s only had one obsession. You.”

My thighs clench as I remember just how hard Gabriel fucked me. His brutal thrusts were almost desperate, like he’d been waiting a very long time to make me bleed like that.

“I might be flattered if this all wasn’t so fucked up,” I snap.

“Looks like it hasn’t been all bad,” Roz responds, her sharp green eyes falling onto the bed behind me.

A heavy stone drops in my gut as I realize what she must see.

Looking over my shoulder, I spot the blood-stained sheets.

“I… uh…”

“I mean, unless that blood’s from the wound on your shoulder… but I think I’ve seen enough injuries to know that yours hasn’t been bleeding for a while.”

Ignoring her, I turn around and rip the sheets from the mattress. Bundling them up in my arms, I turn back to Rozalia, my sore legs shaking to a dangerous degree.

“I need to clean these up,” I mumble, a poor attempt at distraction. “Is there a washing machine in this place?

“I don’t actually know,” Rozalia shrugs, before squinting her sharp eyes at me. “Let’s go find out together.”

Stepping forward, she gently, yet forcefully, rips the pile of bloody sheets from my hands, and I get a whiff of her breezy scent. Despite the dangerous energy that emanates from her, Rozalia smells like a rosy spring day.

It’s somehow both threatening and disturbingly comforting.

Before I can get too lost in her conflicted scent, though, Rozalia turns on her heels and begins to carry my sheets towards the doorway.

“I… am I allowed to leave?” I ask after her, utterly bewildered by my new prison guard.

What’s her deal? And why do I want to know so badly?

“Oh, sweetie, what has Gabriel done to you?” she pouts, sucking her teeth as she stops in the hallway outside. “The door is open, that means you can walk through it.”

“What if I try to run away?”

An evil little laugh escapes those dark red lips. “You won’t get far, not with me here, and especially not on those wobbly legs. Now come, my captive. Shuffle along after me. We’ll find a washing machine—that is, if Gabriel is even civilized enough to have one.”

At that, she disappears down around the doorway, leaving me in her confusing wake.

Clearly, she doesn’t think much of my desire, or ability to escape.

Shit. She’s not wrong. I’m not going anywhere. Not like this.

With a deep sigh, I suck in my pride and grit through the soreness gripping my legs. Maybe Rozalia can teach me more about what’s really going on—like where the hell Gabriel has gone?

Shuffling over the bedroom carpet, I trip into the hallway outside.

Rozalia hasn’t exactly waited around for me to follow her, but she’s not moving that fast either. Up ahead, I spot her popping her head into an open doorway.

“There’s a lot of nothing in this place, huh?” she notes, just as I catch up. But she shuts the door before I can see what’s inside.

“You’re telling me,” I mumble.

“I hope Gabriel hasn’t been too hard on you,” Rozalia says, walking up to another door. This time, I make sure to get a good look inside.

“He’s not exactly a gentle man,” I respond, peering over Rozalia’s shoulder to see a vast home gym stretching out before us.

But we’re not looking for a home gym, and Rozalia quickly slams the door shut again.

“You should know that’s not true,” Rozalia says, continuing towards a staircase ahead. “We’re both from the same dark world, darling. Compared to how other men in this line of work treat women, Gabriel’s practically a saint.”

In a way, she’s right. But the reminder doesn’t do much to comfort me.

“A saint is a stretch,” I huff, as we come up to the staircase. “I’m not sure he’d be welcome in any church.”

“Oh, hell no. The man would burn up within a hundred feet of any place of worship,” Rozalia laughs. “But he mostly only hurts people who deserve it.”

Grabbing onto the handrail, I gingerly follow Rozalia down the wide staircase. For the first time, I get a sense of just how big this place is.

“This house is huge,” I whisper.

“Right? And it’s not even Gabriel’s main home.”

The further we descend down the staircase the higher the ceiling seems to reach, and the wider the walls.

“Gabriel told me he’d lost his family fortune,” I mention, brows furrowing in confusion. “How could he afford something like this, let alone multiple homes?”

“Ah, I see you two have been sharing secrets,” Rozalia notes.

“He just told me about his family. Right before he left.”

“Well, then you must know that nothing Gabriel has in America is on account of his family’s lost fortune. He’s built this all himself. The man is richer than some Fortune 500 CEOs. Unfortunately, that’s not enough. Not for a man with his ambition.”

“He wants everything,” I quietly remember.

“That’s right,” Rozalia confirms. “And so do I.”

When we hit the last step of the long staircase, I stop to lean against the landing. My legs are still weak, but there’s no time to pause and rest.

Rozalia keeps moving.

And she has me hooked. So, I follow right along behind her.

Pushing myself off the newel post, I stare up at the sky-high ceiling above us. It’s mostly barren, except for one huge, twisted, future art-type light fixture that hangs down from the very center—other than a nondescript white bench by the far wall, it’s about the only decoration in the vast hall.

Still, there are no windows.

“So, you want Gabriel and I to get married too?” I call after Rozalia, hoping she’ll slow down to answer the shocking question.

But she doesn’t even flinch.

“You better believe it,” she calls back, not bothering to make sure I’m following her. She knows I’m caught on her every word.

Sucking in a deep breath, I swat away as much soreness as I can and quicken my pace.

Rozalia is already opening up another door when I finally catch up to her again.

“And what will you be to the child he forces me to have?” I question.

I’m only trying to dig a little deeper into my predicament, but still, just saying it out loud sends a cruel shiver down my spine.

That’s my fate, to be Gabriel’s obedient little baby-maker.

That is, unless I can escape… or prove that I’m tough enough to be his queen.

“Oh, don’t you worry, darling,” Rozalia says. “I’ll only be like an aunt. Gabriel is all yours.” Stepping inside the newly opened doorway, she struts ahead before disappearing around a corner.

“I… that’s not what I was getting at,” I stumble over myself, entering after her.

“Here we go!” Rozalia excitedly shouts. “A washer and dryer. I knew Gabriel wasn’t a complete barbarian.”

Sure enough, when I turn the corner up ahead, I see the laundry room. It’s tucked away in a little cove that doesn’t look like it’s ever been touched before.

“Really, I wasn’t asking like that,” I repeat, unable to shake the embarrassment from my cheeks.

“I believe you,” she says. Opening up the washer, she shoves the sheets inside. “I don’t see any detergent. Typical. The water will have to be enough.” Closing the door, she starts the machine. It begins to rumble and she turns back around to me. “Any other questions?”

A thousand different questions swirl around my racing mind. But the despicable pool of jealousy simmering just below my surface threatens to make me sick if I don’t obey its demands.

“Uh, yeah… When you said you’d be like an aunt to our… I mean his…” Shit. What would I even call the child Gabriel forced inside of me? He’s so controlling. Would he even let me call the child mine? I have no idea. So I just cut straight to the point. “Are you two related in any way?”

“Not by blood,” Rozalia quickly responds. “But we were both adopted by the same man—well, not officially adopted, but raised by him.”

“The same man who took Gabriel in after his mother died?”

For the first time since she arrived, I sense a bit of hesitation in Rozalia’s sharp green eyes.

“Gabriel told you about that?”

“Yes.”

Was he not supposed to?

“How much did he tell you?”

“Enough.”

“Do you know who killed his mother?”

“I…” I try to remember. “The drug lords, right?”

A stern weight drops Rozalia’s lifted lips as she looks off into the distance.

“Let’s not talk about such things,” she mumbles. “Gabriel can clarify whatever questions you have when he returns.”

“Gabriel said he might not live long enough to return,” I whisper.

“That’s the truth for all of us all of the time,” Roz says. “Now stop being such a downer. It’s been a while since I hung out with another girl. How about we take advantage of Gabriel’s hospitality? For as empty as this place is, I’m sure there’s at least one spot that will be filled to the brim.”

“Where?”

“The fridge.”

My stomach rumbles right on cue. “I mean, I guess I could eat.”

“Of course you could. Girl, you’re skin and bones.” Brushing past me, Rozalia heads back out of the laundry room. “We’ll come back in an hour and check on the sheets. Until then, we feast.”

I have no choice but to follow her. And it’s not just because I suddenly don’t want to be alone. There’s a magnetism to Rozalia that just pulls me along.

But that doesn’t mean I’m not also suspicious… and still intensely curious.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” I desperately shout after her, sore thighs clenching as we walk out into the foyer and start searching for the kitchen.

“Because you haven’t given me a reason not to be,” Rozalia responds. “At least, not yet.”

“And if I did?”

“Then, I’d have to remind you who’s in charge here.”

When she says that, her voice drops a register and I have little doubt that this woman has done some seriously depraved shit in her lifetime.

That’s when I realize why I find her so alluring.

She’s exactly who I’ve always wanted to be.

A badass woman who’s tough as nails and doesn’t take shit from anyone.

At least, that’s the impression I’m getting so far. But maybe I’m just projecting…

“Are you used to leading?” I prod deeper.

“The toughest lead the pack,” she responds, turning a corner up ahead. “Ah, here we are!” When I round it behind her, I find myself in an immaculate marble kitchen.

“You don’t look so tough,” I challenge. Really, I just want to see another glimpse of her dangerous side. I want to see if Rozalia is the real deal—and if I could ever see myself reaching her level.

“Funny, I was just thinking the same about you,” she smirks, heading straight for the massive stainless-steel fridge.

She’s clearly unbothered by my comment. Do I dare push her further?

How much worse could she be than Gabriel? How much more can I handle?

I mean, I’ve already survived being locked away in the belly of the beast. I’ve survived Gabriel fucking me with so much power he made me bleed. I survived his hate. And his lust.

It all might have broken the woman I was just a month ago. But for as physically weak as I feel right now, there’s a callous confidence growing inside of me.

“What if I was jealous of you and Gabriel?” I ask, trying to find any buttons Rozalia may have.

“Then I’d say you were wasting your time.”

Pulling out an entire fucking rotisserie chicken from the fridge, Rozalia ungracefully tears its plastic casing off. Then, she finds the industrial size microwave and shoves the already-cooked bird inside.

“Well, it’s a good thing I have plenty of free time. I mean, it’s not like I’m going anywhere, right?.”

When the microwave starts heating up, Rozalia turns around and leans forward, placing her forearms on the long marble island in the middle of the kitchen.

“Shit,” she smiles. “You’ve got spunk. That’s for sure. I can see why Gabriel likes you so much. But I’m still having a hard time wrapping my mind around how such a fragile looking princess could be giving my big bad wolf so much trouble.”

“Your big bad wolf?” I hear myself blurt out.

There’s no ignoring the flash of jealousy that whips through my chest at Rozalia’s claim. But, this time, instead of running from it, I try to use it to my advantage.

“Ah, there it is,” Rozalia smirks. “Don’t worry. I told you. We’re more like siblings—though, there was a time when we were supposed to get married.”

She must be fucking with me, because when the microwave beeps behind her, she jumps up like a ballerina and twirls around, hardly phased by any of this.

“You and Gabriel were going to get married? Why?”

It doesn’t make any sense, even if they’re not blood related, no one would want to marry someone who’s like a brother to them.

“Mostly to consolidate power,” Rozalia shrugs, tearing into the steaming chicken with her bare hands. “It wasn’t our idea. The man who took us in and raised us just thought it might be a good second option—you know, just in case you and Gabriel didn’t work out. But hey, thanks for taking that bullet for me. Now I’m single… and ready to mingle. Know anyone that might be interested?”

Alright, she’s definitely fucking with me. So much for trying to push her buttons.

“Yeah, how about you go have a chat with my cousin,” I challenge her. “Rian Kilpatrick. Tell him all about your plans. I’m sure he’d just love to talk.”

“I’m not a big fan of talking.”

“Could have fooled me.”

Another quick smile flashes across Rozalia’s red lips just as she sinks her teeth into a big juicy chicken leg.

“You are quite feisty,” she says, still chewing. “I can finally understand the potential Gabriel sees in you.” Placing her leg down, she rips off the other one and slides it across the table towards me. “Now eat up. I promised the man I’d put some meat on you.”

I hesitate before doing as she says.

Am I getting anywhere with her? It’s impossible to tell.

My belly rumbles and I give in.

Leaning over the other side of the kitchen island, I pick up the chicken leg and take a bite for myself.

It’s surprisingly delicious.

“So, do you know where Gabriel has gone?” I ask, after swallowing a big mouthful of the juicy meat.

I’ve abandoned my plans to get her angry, but that doesn’t mean my curiosity has died down.

“Of course I do.”

“Will you tell me?”

“Only if you promise to set me up with that hunky cousin of yours,” Rozalia teases. “What was his name? Rian? I’m guessing he’s an Irishman, huh?”

“He’s half-Irish and half-Italian. Just like me.”

“Ah, half-bloods. Well, maybe I don’t want to meet this Rian boy after all.”

“He’s no boy,” I warn her.

“He better not be, because it will take a man to handle Gabriel.”

Rozalia hardly even finishes her sentence before her sharp green eyes go wide.

She just made a mistake.

I pounce. But not because I suddenly feel like there’s an opening for me.

“What does that mean?” I ask, heart in my throat.

For a split-second, I swear I catch a glimpse of the black cat’s vicious side as she considers how to retaliate.

But that fire quickly passes, and her shoulders relax as she takes another bite of her dinner.

“Gabriel is going to meet your cousin,” she says.

“Rian?” I gasp.

That’s the last thing I was expecting to hear.

“That’s right.”

“Why the hell is he doing that? Gabriel stabbed my cousin in the back when he took me. Rian will kill him!”

“Not if Gabriel doesn’t kill him first.”

“They’ll tear each other apart!” My hand opens and the chicken leg falls to the marble island “We need to go stop him!”

I’ve barely turned around before I feel a blade at my throat.

“Ah ah ah,” Rozalia whispers into my ear, her bright spring scent suddenly dark and suffocating. “We’re not going anywhere.”

“Please, we have to do something,” I rasp. “Both of those men would kill for me.”

“And one of them might just have to die for you.”

“No,” I choke on my own despair as Rozalia’s cold blade hovers just inches away from my burning skin. “What about you? Are you willing to lose Gabriel?”

“I’m always ready to lose everything,” Rozalia answers. “But it’s nice to see how worried you are about my big bad wolf—or is he our big bad wolf now? Either way, it’s about time you start to feel as strongly about him as he does about you.”

“Roz…” I plead.

“Don’t call me Roz,” she snaps. “Only my friends call me that. And darling, you may have been growing on me. But I’m not here to be your friend. So, will you behave, or do you want your little nightgown to match those red bedsheets?”

Strangely, I’m not afraid of Rozalia’s threats. Maybe it’s because I actually am getting tougher, or maybe it’s just because I’m more concerned about the lives of the two men who are about to clash somewhere beyond these walls. Either way, it quickly becomes clear to me that there’s nothing I can do but try and remain calm.

“Those bedsheets are probably done by now,” I mumble.

“We can go check on them, but only if you promise to behave. Can you promise me that, Bianca?”

“Yes.”

At that, Rozalia recoils her blade and releases me from her merciless grip.

A violent breath instantly rushes down into my lungs, and I realize I’d been holding my breath.

“In through your nose, out through your mouth,” Rozalia says, her footsteps already marching out of the kitchen. “Now, let’s go check on those bedsheets.”

Even though I know I should follow her like the obedient little captive I’m supposed to be, I can’t help but pause by the marble island.

I knew there was something deadly about Rozalia. What I didn’t quite understand, though, was just how different her ruthlessness would feel.

She isn’t Gabriel.

There’s no tenderness to her threats, no concern for my own safety in her warnings. She’s just doing a job. I’m just a piece of meat.

Fuck. It makes me appreciate my dark wolf more than I ever thought I could.

In his own brutal way, he cares for me. It’s clear now, especially when I have the cold steel of Rozalia’s unflinching blade to compare it to.

She’d cut my throat just to keep me from escaping.

Gabriel, on the other hand, would kill everyone else just to keep me alive and by his side.

Shit.

A conflicted fire rises in my gut as I realize that I already miss him.

What the hell is happening to me?

Do I have Stockholm syndrome? Cabin fever? Or am I just on the verge of understanding something much more dangerous about myself.

Sure, maybe Gabriel cares for me. Fuck. Apparently, he might even like me.

But suddenly, I’m realizing that I might just like him back.

No. There’s no maybe about it. He’s the man who could help make you into the woman you want to be.

Shit. Maybe I am going crazy, after all.

Because that’s a hell of a realization to have about someone who’s dragged you into a cage and locked you away; about someone who’s shattered your innocence so thoroughly; about someone who might already be dead.

My gut churns as I stare down the long empty kitchen.

Gabriel’s going to confront Rian. In a fair fight, I don’t know who wins that battle—not that either of those men will ever fight fair.

They are both ruthless, brutal, completely unhinged. Mirror images of each other. Deranged beasts who live for conflict and violence.

The only difference is that Rian has an entire empire at his back.

Gabriel has nothing—well, nothing other than me.

I just don’t know if that will be enough to save his life.