Sinful Pleasure | 18+

Chapter 20 - Kez

Laughing, the metal sound of chains shift, and I can't help but widen my eyes. What the hell? "It won't get out, because I won't let it." I hear my father's voice this time, again.

"Really?!" The other person, I presume, mutters surprisingly.

Silence echoes, but then I hear movement. "Yes." Father voices, probably walking around his desk. "I cannot let the press know about this, they'll inform the public about it. And if I kill you-where does that leave me, huh?"

What! My father was certainly not talking about killing somebody. I mean, taking a life was a serious offense, it'd land him in prison. Not that I care much about that, but still...

Suddenly I'm left with more silence, and it unease's me. With my dad, silence was never good, I know that because after I've done something wrong he stares at me silently, and then next I'm left with tears-bloodied and bruised.

Shifting slightly, the door cracks open, and I gasp lowly, slapping a hand over my mouth. Oh, please no. I peep an eye in, the other person I heard sat on a chair, facing directly toward the door. Blood trickled from his right eye and nose, dripping over the top lip.

They don't see me, and neither does my dad. Good. Watching my father step just to the side of them, another guy moves to the left with a knife in one hand. Uh-oh. His arm shifts up, and with the other one, he uses it to grasp the helpless guy's face, thrusting his head back.

As I swallow, he takes the sharp tool in his fist and gouges out an eye. I pull myself back and tears fill my eyes, making a sob come up through my throat. The horrifying screams and struggling groans echo all around me, they drain into my brain and manifest themselves there.

For some reason, I can't look away or start running, and I can't stop myself from hearing this. My body is frozen in place, so solid. I want it to be over, but it won't. It'll never be over. Even days from now, the image and sounds will remain stuck in my head.

I suddenly hear my cries now, they are loud-so loud, and my father stands foot at the threshold, his arm reaching out to me. And with such force I'm hauled out of there, my hair being pulled tight inside his fist.

He yells at me, but I try not to hear it, I don't want to hear it, though I do. His words are mean and filled with so much disdain, I feel like I'm not his daughter.

"You freakish little bitch!" He sneers loudly, shoving me into the foyer. I sob quietly, feeling his grip loosen. "Defy me again, girl," he says, flipping me around to face him.

Gazing up, I flinch when he raises his hand. My stomach is sinking now, and I hit the white tiled floor, a harsh strike against my cheek causing me to fall over. My face heats up and I can feel it start to sting, "Stop crying, it's weak," he scowls, kneeling in front of me.

I try to back up but he grabs the back of my head and pulls me closer. I don't stop crying because I can't, and I won't. "Fucking hell, do you know what happens to little girls who disrespect their daddy?" He says, voice calm it sends chills up my spine.

I shake my head and lick my lips, tasting the salty tears that spill into my mouth. Chuckling, he shifts an arm around his back and pulls something out. "Let me show you, baby." His arm comes into view and I stop crying, seeing a pocket knife in his fist.

No, please no. Please. Reaching out, the sharp thing touches my cheek, and I close my eyes. He grabs my face with his free hand and presses lightly against my cheek.

"Amalia!" A shout comes from above. I quickly open my eyes and tilt my head back, looking upstairs. Maribel rushes downstairs, making my father move off me.

He groans and stalks back through the door we came from, striding down the long hallway. "Amalia, Amalia!" Maribel continues to shout. I don't turn around, all I do is stare down at the man I call father-her soothing voice echoing behind me.

I hate you with everything I have.

...

"Amalia!"

I stared down at the suitcase, clothes overpacked, and I couldn't seem to shut the fucking thing. Groaning, I stood up and turned around, sitting my ass on the damn thing. "Amalia." My name echoed behind me, again, or at least I thought it did.

What the fuck? Gazing up, I saw Axel shifting into my room. He was wearing all black, a baggy shirt with a dead rose plastered in the center, and ripped jeans-also black. He kind of looked similar to Creed, just more covered up.

Shaking my head, I squinted my eyes at him, in thought. "What did you just call me?" I asked, standing up now.

He shrugged, stepping further into the room. Moving forward, he pushed me to the side. "I didn't call you shit, I was telling you to hurry up," he said, distaste in his tone. No, but I thought.

Okay, I was going crazy. "I would, but I can't close the fucking thing," I grunted out, watching him close it for me. Bastard.

"Roman's patience is on the brink of exploding," he mentioned, hopping up and whirling around, my suitcase in his hand. "Get out! Come on." He tsk-ed and placed his hand on my lower back, ushering me out with slight force.

I rolled my eyes and ran down the stairs, heading toward the front hallway. "What's in New York anyway?" I asked, striding down the wooden floorboards and halting at the door at the end.

Opening the door, I made my way into the massive foyer, holding the door so Axel could get past without any trouble. Huffing, we walked toward the front door-Roman and Creed standing on the opposite side, outside.

"Business."

...

a/n - can I promise a bit of smut next chapter, why yes!
I like how this chap turned out :)
Correct me if the French is not right.