"Wicked Game" by Chris Isaak
Standing on the steps outside our apartment, I held Rose close, seeking solace in her presence amidst the storm of emotions swirling within me. Tears were an unusual sight for me; I had always been the pillar of strength. Yet, within Rose's arms, there was no need for pretense. She understood the depth of the tempest churning inside me, the restlessness I so often hid from the world.
"You know, your soon-to-be husband isn't hard on the eyes," she teased, her smile a balm to my frayed nerves.
I managed a half-smirk. "Care to trade places?"
"In your wildest dreams," she chuckled.
"Just... be gentle with Aunt Ginny, alright?"
"I'll do my best," she replied, her tone light but eyes serious.
I kissed her forehead softly.
"As mom used to say, 'today is better than yesterday'."
"And 'tomorrow will be better than today'."
Her words warmed me.
"You're my toughest goodbye, Rose. Aunt Ginny will look after you. I just... I wish I didn't have to leave."
"I know," she whispered, her grip tightening.
"Just stay safe."
After one final hug, I approached the black SUV. I couldn't help but turn back one more time, placing my fingers on my lips and sending her all my love.
It shattered my heart to leave her in this situation, but I felt I had no choice. This man appeared to be dangerous, and I didn't want Rose to pay the price. So, I resolved to play nice.
"Sorry about the pan earlier," I said to the man who opened the door for me.
"Left your weapon of choice at home, I hope?" he jested.
"It's wrapped up, a special wedding gift for your boss," I countered.
He chuckled. "Nice one."
I settled into the back seat of the SUV, and by my side sat a man who had been somewhat of a mystery to me. His name remained unknown, yet there was an undeniable attraction drawing me towards him. Perhaps it was the captivating depth of his piercing blue eyes, which seemed to ensnare me whenever our eyes met. Or maybe it was his impressive, muscular physique that had me wondering if he were a boxer or some kind of fighter; his tall, sculpted frame was a dream I had only dared to imagine.
His hair, dark as night, revealed subtle hints of salt and pepper as you got closer. His countenance, for the most part, remained solemn – or so it seemed during the mere twenty minutes I had spent in his company. And yet, here I was, ready to commit myself to him.
Breaking the awkward silence, I commented, "What a beautiful weather."
Right on cue, raindrops began to fall, as if nature itself was playing along with the irony of my life.
The night was exceptionally dark, even though it was just ten o'clock at night. The ominous clouds outside mirrored the darkness that had enveloped my life long before I met him.
The occasional bursts of lightning were like flashes from the depths of my mind, illuminating memories I simply couldn't erase.
His eyes remained fixed outside the window, chin resting on a clenched fist, his thoughts unspoken.
He seemed lost in his own world, and there was an undeniable sense of darkness about him.
Surprisingly, though, I wasn't afraid of it.
Feeling a bit awkward, I adjusted my dress and murmured, "Okay."
Simultaneously, we both said, "What's your name?"
Our eyes locked, freezing time for a moment.
"I'm Belle Bernard," I introduced myself, "And you?"
"Apollo," he answered, "Apollo Colucci."
A sudden realization hit me like a ton of bricks.
They called him the Beast of New York, a feared Mafia Don from the Colucci family, and he stood right next to me.
He was the kind of man no father wanted as a son-in-law, but secretly hoped would be their friend.
Every mother was ashamed of the thought of their daughter being with the Beast, yet secretly wished for a beast of their own.
Rumors had painted a picture of an old, ruthless tyrant, covered in battle scars, but not the honorable kind. Yet here was a man of flesh and blood, silent and calm, yet still difficult to read.
"Why did you accept a contract with my father?" I asked, "Couldn't you have any woman you wanted?"
A faint smile crept across his lips, marking the first time I'd witnessed even a hint of warmth on his otherwise solemn face.
"Women who seek me want money, power, protection, or... my cock," he remarked with a hint of cynicism.
"And how do you know I'm different?" I challenged.
"Because no one sacrifices their freedom for another, not even for a sister," he replied.
"So, you understand she's everything to me," I said, feeling a surge of protectiveness. "I'd do anything for her."
A moment of silence lingered before he finally spoke, "Then she will be protected."
His assurance carried weight, coming from a man of his stature. In another life, perhaps I would have lean in for a kiss, but this wasn't a fairytale.
This was my reality.
"We're here," Apollo announced.
A man opened the door, and Apollo stepped out first, then extended his hand to me. I accepted, placing my palm in his as I exited the vehicle.
The mansion he called home could easily be mistaken for a modern-day castle – at least, that's what I teased myself about. It was a stunning glass villa, offering breathtaking views of lush gardens in the front and a striking panorama of the New York skyline from the back.
Apollo possessed that unmistakable air of someone from a powerful family, a presence that was hard to miss.
Stepping inside, I couldn't help but admire the unique charm and beauty it exuded.
It had a character all its own, and I couldn't resist commenting, "I assume you didn't choose the interior design?"
"Huh?" He seemed taken aback by the question.
"Of course not, if it were up to me, I'd paint everything black."
"Why am I not surprised?" I mused to myself.
Our entrance did not go unnoticed, and a maid, stationed near the staircase, silently awaited our approach.
"Follow me to the office so we can discuss further details," he said, his hand gently resting on my back as he guided me forward.
The office was immaculate, suggesting a man with a penchant for order.
"Please, sit down," he offered, gesturing to a chair before sitting on his own.
As I sat down, he revealed, "my father is ill. He wishes me to marry Sabrina, a woman from a rival family, but I refuse. I'd rather marry of my own accord than deal with the Coletti family."
"Will your decision cause any issues?" I asked, concerned about the potential fallout.
"It won't," he assured, "you just have to play the part of a content wife."
"I want an heir," he stated plainly.
"And if you provide one within a year, I'll grant you your freedom."
His words struck me with a mix of disbelief and revulsion.
"An heir, as in a child?" I clarified, my voice tinged with incredulity, "How am I supposed to do that?"
"You know, Belle, when two people fuck, a man shut his..."
I quickly interrupted him, "I know how children are made, Apollo!"
"Then why do you ask stupid questions?"
The idea of entrusting an innocent child to a man with a reputation more terrifying than that of a serial killer ignited a raging flame within me.
The thought of parenthood, coupled with the prospect of exposing a child to such darkness, filled me with an overwhelming sense of dread.
"Believe me, Apollo, under no circumstances would I subject a child to this twisted environment, especially not with someone fucked up like you."
My words sliced through him, piercing like a blade he hadn't anticipated would wound him so deeply.
His response was equally cold, "then I guess you'll have to stay here forever," he said, turning his attention to the papers spread all over the table.
"Apollo, this is madness," I protested.
He paused, his eyes following mine, the darkness deepening as a smirk danced on his lips.
With a low growl, he commanded, "Say my name again, Belle."
As words were about to escape my lips, he was already by my side, drawing even closer, his hands gently but firmly wrapping around my neck, trailing his fingertips. Our breaths mingled until a raspy exhale, barely above a whisper, demanded, "Let me go, Apollo."
He complied, a hint of a smirk on his lips.
"In time, Bellissima, you will beg for more," he teased with a confidence that both unsettled and intrigued me.
I turned away from him, leaning in closer, arching my back, and tilting my head to feel the warmth of his breath on my neck. Pressing his body against mine, his words were a low, dangerous warning.
"Don't test me, Bellissima. I won't be gentle next time."
"Bite me."
His frustration peaked.
"For God's sake, woman, can you shut up for a second?" he barked.
"Make me," I challenged, my voice barely a whisper yet filled with defiance.
And so, he did.
Sweeping me up, both hands pressed against my cheeks, his lips met mine—soft, forcefully, yet gentle. His tongue danced within my mouth, carrying the taste of whiskey and cigarettes, leaving me intoxicated, craving more. His cologne filled my nose, a blend of opulent sandalwood, cedar, and mint.
My palm pressed against his chest, resisting the growing intensity of my desire, yet the sparks within me stirred. Despite my inner battle for more, my stubborn pride prevailed, and I bit his lip—not harshly, but enough to convey my defiant blend.
He raised an eyebrow, then shifted his attention to my neck, biting softly. A mix of sensations overwhelmed me, but I pushed him away, standing my ground.
"I am not like your casual conquests," I declared firmly.
"No, you're not, Bellissima," he said, a mix of admiration and annoyance in his voice.
"You're worse. You let your pride overshadow even the simplest pleasures."
"Coming from a man who had to buy a wife," I shot back sharply.
His laughter was short, almost mocking.
"Your sharp tongue will land you in trouble," he warned.
"Oh, I'm trembling with fear."
He smiled, his eyes now a shade lighter than the dark blue they were before.
"Jimmy!" he called out.
A man who had been with us earlier opened the door and entered his office.
"Take her to my room, and lock the door," he ordered, his tone brooking no argument.
Jimmy approached, grabbing my arm, and steering me away from Apollo's office. Apollo remained seated at his desk, offering a sarcastic farewell wave with his hand.
I wrestled my hand from his grip and hissed, "I can walk by myself!"
Jimmy chuckled, "With the boss, you might need that pan," winking at me as he led the way upstairs to the bedroom. "I'm just saying."