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Dark Atonement

Book One Tangled Empires

Anna Harding

Prologue—Eloise

It wasn’t just his brutality I feared.
It was the power he now held over me—the power I had given him.

Tonight, I was expected to sleep with the man who had violently assaulted me.
The man I had screamed and fought against.
The man who had thrown me to the floor and forced me to submit.

The fear still burned in my nightmares.
Always the pain. Always the blood.
Always the cruelty in his dark eyes as he took what I hadn’t been willing to give.

But this time would be different.
This time, I was expected to accept it.
This time, he had a right to touch me—to invade my body with his—and to demand whatever response he wanted.

This time, I wasn’t his victim.
I was his wife.

I just wish it didn’t feel like the same thing.

Prologue—Alexi

Sometimes I wonder how differently my life might have turned out—if I hadn’t let my most hated enemy trick me into committing the worst act of my life.

If I were a decent man,
I’d regret what I did to that unwilling girl until the day I die.

But how can I regret the one thing that gave me everything I ever wanted?
How can I regret the act that brought me her?

Alexi

New York

December 1988

I shoved the girl off her knees and adjusted myself as my father walked into the room. He looked at me in disgust and jerked his thumb at the door for her to leave.
‘Don’t you ever do anything except fuck, Alexi?’

His words stung. I brought more money into the family than my other three brothers combined. Ok, I wasn’t a strategic mastermind like my elder brother Anton, but I knew the business inside out and I understood the weak spots of all our enemies. Especially the Italians.

Given the pressure I’d put the Italians under recently, I’d actually expected some praise from Father. But as usual, he was more interested in Anton’s casinos and Nikolai’s drug contacts.

That was the difference between me and my brothers. They created and I destroyed. They wanted to build up the business, but I was more interested in taking down anyone who opposed us. I mainly fought the Mafia, of course. But my fights were pretty fucking lucrative for the Bratva.

When I broke a drug run, I got the proceeds for myself with no cost except a bit of muscle and, if I was unlucky, the odd dead soldier. Nikolai spent weeks setting up a shipment—and paid for it. I just showed up and took what I wanted.

‘My evenings are my own,’ I retorted. ‘Anton hasn’t got a problem with it, provided the girls are fit for work when I’m through with them.’

Although Anton handled most of the family business and our father had stepped into the background, he still wasn’t officially out—and Anton wasn’t officially in. Which meant I was still answerable to my father. And lately, his patience with me was wearing thin.

It wasn’t just the whores. He may not like the fact that I spent most of my leisure time with my cock in a mouth, but he could overlook it. What he couldn’t ignore was my obsession with crushing the Italians—an obsession which he claimed was starting to damage the Bratva. I braced myself for another lecture about my feud with Aurelio Dinelli.

But for once, I was wrong. ‘You get a hard on for these sluts,’ he said suddenly, ‘but you haven’t considered marriage? Taking a wife would give you all sex all day and all night if you wanted it.’

Fuck me, that was unexpected. No, I hadn’t thought about a wife. And no way would I ever marry a girl of his choice. Some naïve little Russian virgin who’d run crying to her father—and worse, to mine—if I did anything in bed to her outside the missionary position. I couldn’t think of anything I’d enjoy less.

‘I’m twenty-five,’ I said, trying to think of a better excuse than just my age. ‘You always said a man shouldn’t settle down until he’s in his thirties.’

‘Alexi, the concept of you settled is so far removed from any kind of reality that I don’t think it warrants a discussion. I have no doubt that even if you were married you’d still fuck around and cause me trouble.’ He nodded when I raised my eyebrows at him in question.

‘Yes, I know about your brother bailing you out of your numerous debauched sexual escapades. And I know your attitude to women is generally appalling. Your mother would be heartbroken if she knew what a deviant she’d given birth to.’

That was a bit harsh. I know I use women. And I do go too far. But I didn’t think that qualified me to be described as a deviant. I wasn’t hanging about masturbating on street corners. I was only attracted to adult women—who the fuck wants a girl without tits?—and although for me it was a case of the rougher the better when it came to sex, it was usually consensual.

‘I’ll try and do better,’ I muttered.

‘I’m asking for more than that,’ my father replied. ‘I’m asking you to give some thought to the idea of getting married.’

Fuck! He was actually serious. I could feel the blue balls already.

‘Do you have anyone specific in mind?’ I asked him cautiously.

‘I’d like to ask Nemov if he’d consider his sister to be a match for you.’

I didn’t know her and I didn’t want to. This was fucking lunacy. He wanted me, ME, to marry the virgin sister of the unhinged boss of the Bratva. I didn’t want my boss knowing what I did in bed and I sure as fuck didn’t want Simon Nemov knowing what I did to his sister in bed. I might as well just take a jump off the Brooklyn Bridge now and save Simon the hassle of slowly dissecting me into small pieces.

‘It’s an idea,’ I mused while I stalled for time. ‘But why me and not Anton? He’d treat her better and Nemov rates him. He thinks I’m a cunt.’

‘You are a cunt, Alexi, but you come from a family that he’d consider making a match with. As for why not Anton, I’ve already asked him. In fact I’ve been asking him for weeks, but he won’t do it.’

This was interesting. Anton usually did whatever Father wanted. Why would he pass up a chance to please the boss and claim a pretty wife?

‘What’s his reason?’ I asked curiously.

‘He said he was too busy with work, and marriage would mean he couldn’t do his work justice or give a wife the attention she deserved.’

‘Bullshit.’

‘Of course. But seeing as that was all he was willing to tell me, I’ve come to you instead.’

‘You’d do better with Nikolai. He’s soft as shit with women.’

‘Nikolai is only two years older than Anastasia. Nemov wouldn’t permit it.’

This was a nightmare. Father seriously wanted me to marry a girl I wouldn’t dare even ask to suck my cock. My future played out in front of my horrified eyes as I imagined not being able to get it up for fear of alarming her and sending her running with tales of my depravity to her ruthless brother.

‘Look, I’ll think about it, I promise. But work on Anton. He’ll come round if you push him enough. And think how much stress it would put you under if you knew I was taking Nemov’s sister to bed every night.’

Father didn’t look as if he disagreed with me on that point.

‘Imagine if it backfired,’ I pressed on, ‘and instead of bringing the families closer it caused problems because I wasn’t a good match for the girl. Nemov might even blame you for suggesting it.’

‘Are you seriously telling me you are so incapable of controlling yourself that you feel you’d be a risk to a woman you married?’

‘Are you telling me you want to take any level of risk where Nemov and his sister are involved?’

We glared at each other. I’d won the battle for now, but his look said it all—sooner or later he’d have some poor girl shackled to my bed for life.

Eloise

New York

December 1988

New York at last. I’d pictured it for years! I stepped off the plane and looked round frantically for my cousin. Everything about this city was faster than my life back in England.

‘Eloise!’ I saw a hand waving in the crowd and walked toward her in relief. I’d been worried I wouldn’t recognise her. Despite being penpals since we were ten, we’d never been allowed to meet face to face before. But Isabella was as cheery in the flesh as she was in her letters. She gave me a huge smile and flung her arms round my waist.

‘My brother Aurelio,’ she announced, stepping back carefully.

Her elder brother didn’t blink as his gaze swept over my dishevelled appearance—my hair untidy from sleeping on the plane—and he gave me a cold smile. ‘Welcome to New York.’ His eyes lingered with disapproval, and though the words sounded polite, there was no welcome in them. My stomach sank, but total exhaustion dulled the unease.

‘How did you get your stepfather to agree?’ Isabella asked, dragging me past a huge Christmas tree and a hundred twinkling windows that I kept trying to slow down to look in. America was amazing! Just like the shows I’d seen on television. Neither Isabella nor Aurelio showed any interest though. I supposed they were used to it—all the sights.

‘I just kept begging him,’ I told her, smiling at the memory. ‘He got fed up of me in the end. Though I don’t think he’d have let me come if I wasn’t staying with Uncle Carmine.’

‘Who could be safer to stay with than the Head of the Mafia?’ Isabella asked, laughing.

‘I told him you said your house is like a fortress.’

‘Guards everywhere,’ she replied comfortably. ‘All too terrified of my father and Aurelio to let any harm come to you.’

She pulled me over to a sleek red sports car. ‘Aurelio hates driving anything with four seats,’ she whispered. ‘But we wouldn’t all fit in his Ferrari.’

We sat in the back and she opened a packet of sweets and offered them to me. ‘What about your mother?’ she asked. ‘I bet she was harder to convince.’

‘She told me things would be different in a Mafia home.’ I pulled a face. ‘Half my clothes were too unsuitable, apparently. She wouldn’t let me bring any skirts above the knee.’

‘That’s probably for the best,’ said Isabella quietly, with a sideways glance at her brother. ‘Modesty is a major thing in my house.’ She lowered her voice. ‘Aurelio goes mad if I wear anything too short.’

‘What business is it of his?’ I asked. But I lowered my voice too. I didn’t want to get her into trouble, and I knew from her letters that Isabella had always been scared of her brother.

‘Elder male relatives make the rules,’ she said with a shrug. ‘They always have in the Mafia. I obey my brothers the same as I would my father. It’s just how things work.’

‘I don’t obey my brother,’ I told her with a grin. ‘We spend most of our time arguing with each other.’

Isabella laughed, but I saw a troubled look quickly flicker over her face. ‘Your mother’s right. Things will be different for you in our house. But I’ll help you get used to it.’ Her good mood returned. ‘We’ll shop and we’ll eat out and go dancing—we’re going to have so much fun now you’re here at last!’

I was looking forward to it. But when Aurelio’s dark eyes held mine in the mirror, a shiver crawled down my spine before I could stop it. Isabella’s way of life was more different to mine than I’d imagined.

Life with the Dinellis would be nothing like the life I’d left behind

***

‘Dinner!’ Isabella bounced up to me and linked arms. ‘I hope you’re hungry, because Mama’s made my absolute favourite. I could eat Cacciatore every day and never get tired of it!’

I laughed at her enthusiasm. ‘Every meal is your favourite!’ Isabella took after her mother—they both loved to cook and eat.

I couldn’t blame her. Aunt Ginevra’s food was next level. After a few days with an Italian family, I could see why the rest of the world mocked English cooking. I loved the richness of the sauces, the fragrant herbs and garlic, the huge, ripe tomatoes she somehow sourced even in winter. I was becoming just as addicted to dinner as Isabella.

I took my seat at the table, smiling across the candlelight at Uncle Carmine. He always made an effort to include me in the conversation—though when both his sons were present, business talk tended to dominate.

My uncle had gone out of his way to be friendly since I arrived. He was interested in English politics and often invited me into his office to get my opinion on one news story or another. Unfortunately, my reading material mainly consisted of fashion magazines, so I doubted I ever told him anything he couldn’t find in the American papers.

Uncle Carmine paused his conversation with Aurelio and turned to me. ‘Eloise! My wife tells me you want to see the city? I’d take you myself, but I’m tied up in meetings all week.’ He looked at Aurelio. ‘Perhaps you could take the girls to see the sights?’

Aurelio reached out for his glass of wine and took a sip, setting the glass down slowly. ‘No.’

The bluntness stunned me, and my head shot up to stare at him in disbelief. But Uncle Carmine didn’t react, and Aurelio clearly didn’t feel the need to explain himself.

I found Aurelio deeply intimidating. He carried the same quiet authority as his father, but Aurelio’s smile never reached his eyes. I always felt he was looking through me rather than at me.

I didn’t like the way he treated his sister either. He monitored Isabella’s friends, told her to change her clothes if he didn’t approve, and even dictated which books she could read. She accepted it all with barely a blink. I guessed that was what my mother had meant about a Mafia home being so different from the life I was used to.

Even Aunt Ginevra seemed to shrink around her eldest son. She’d blink a lot, clean her glasses, then look at him like she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing.

Aurelio was the kind of man people looked at twice. Not just because he was attractive—though I could definitely see my sister Rose being into those sculpted features: tousled hair darker than his eyes, and a neatly trimmed short beard that made him seem older than his twenties. But looks weren’t enough to explain the attention he commanded. There was something else about him—something that kept people fascinated…at a distance.

Uncle Carmine sighed heavily. ‘Perhaps you then, Alessandro?’ he asked his younger son.

Alessandro nodded good-naturedly at his father and shot a grin at me. I liked Isabella’s other brother a lot more than Aurelio. He was so much more relaxed.

Aurelio cut in. ‘I’ll arrange a bodyguard for Bella if they need to go into the city. Alessandro will be with me this week. Two of our restaurants have defected to the Russians. I can’t spare Alessandro for sightseeing.’

I felt my pulse quicken. It was strange to hear a family speak like this so openly. They discussed the criminal side of their business with the same ease other people talked about weekend plans. I couldn’t imagine my father ever discussing the illegal side of his art deals over the table—though I could definitely picture the look on my mother’s face if he did.

‘Which restaurants?’ Uncle Carmine asked, his face hardening.

‘Alfredo’s on Chester Street, and Rocco’s.’

‘Rocco’s I want back. It’s been ours for years. Alfredo’s you can deal with as you see fit.’

Aurelio gave a thin smile. ‘I plan to use it to send a message to anyone else who thinks they’re safer under Russian rule.’

‘Good. A show of strength is needed. But why the sudden interest in our restaurants? The Russians have never been big on protection. What’s stirred them up?’

Alessandro laughed out loud. ‘What do you think, Aurelio! The Russians don’t have a drug route left on the west side of the city since Aurelio blocked them all. Alexi Kostrov wants his blood.’

Uncle Carmine sighed. ‘Mikhail’s son? Weren’t we supposed to be co-existing in some kind of peace? I thought we agreed to give each other drug routes so neither side lost income.’

‘You did,’ Alessandro agreed. ‘But it started to unravel when Aurelio got half their whores working for us. And it fell apart completely when he blew up one of their casinos and had three of Kostrov’s men killed.’

Killed? I looked at Isabella in shock as my fork fell to my plate, but she was calmly buttering bread. This must be normal conversation for her. She hadn’t reacted at all to her brothers openly admitting they killed people.

‘Kostrov has baited this family long enough,’ Aurelio said, his voice as cold as his eyes. ‘I want him out of the picture.’

‘If you kill his son, Mikhail will go to war. That helps no one,’ Uncle Carmine was starting to get angry now. ‘If this turns into a feud, I’ll have to divert all our resources into protection. I didn’t build this business for you to waste my money fighting the Russians.’

I felt the glass in my hand tremble as I watched the anger simmer between the two men.

‘Killing him will not be necessary,’ Aurelio replied. He smiled again. ‘But I will make Alexi Kostrov regret the day he heard the name Dinelli.’

***

It wasn’t until everybody else had left the table and she’d had her third helping of dessert that I felt I could bring up the topic of the dinner conversation with Isabella.

‘Oh, they always talk like that,’ she said comfortably. ‘If they didn’t talk about business, then we’d just sit here in silence every night. Well, Father and Aurelio would. Alessandro is ok talking about other things, but he always gets caught up in the business talk too.’

She scraped her plate with her spoon. ‘I suppose it must be strange for you, the kind of things we discuss?’

‘It does shock me a bit,’ I admitted. ‘It’s just so weird to hear people talking about things like death and drugs so casually. But I get that not having secrets brings you closer together as a family.’

Isabella snorted. ‘Me, Mother and Alessandro maybe. Aurelio? No way.’

‘No?’

‘Can you imagine being close to Aurelio?’

‘He’s quite domineering,’ I said cautiously. ‘But you don’t seem to have a problem with him telling you what to do all the time?’

‘There’s no point arguing with Aurelio. He always gets his own way. It’s easier just to give in and get whatever he wants over with.’

‘He’s very protective of you.’

‘That’s not protection. Alessandro looks out for me. Aurelio just likes control. Especially when he’s bored. He agreed to tutor me for my exams two years ago when I was struggling at school. I was trapped in his office every single day of the whole summer holiday doing work that he set for me. I didn’t get to go swimming or out with my friends once. He’d just come in, look over my shoulder at the work I’d done, and then set me a pile more for the next day.’

‘Didn’t your father say anything?’

‘What could he say? I went from failing to being almost top of the class under Aurelio’s tutelage. Father’s a different generation, so when Aurelio tells him my clothes aren’t modest enough or my books are too trashy, Father believes him. Is your brother different, then?’

‘Well, Jamie is younger than me, so yes, it is different. It would be weird if he started telling me or Rose what to do. We’d probably tell him where to get off, if I’m honest.’

‘Eloise…’ Isabella hesitated, then glanced around the dining room to make sure it was still empty. She twirled a hair nervously around her finger. ‘Don’t say that kind of thing around Aurelio,’ she said. ‘Seriously.’

‘Why?’

‘He wouldn’t take it well. He might see it as a challenge. And you really don’t want to be on his radar. It’s hard to explain, but my brother isn’t someone you’d want to cross. If he makes an enemy, he goes all out to destroy them. I’d hate for you to say anything that might get you on the wrong side of him.’

She looked around again carefully and lowered her voice. ‘I probably shouldn’t say this… but Aurelio is dangerous. Not just dangerous in the sense that all made men are—Father and Alessandro are no strangers to violence— but there’s something about Aurelio that makes him different. He’s my brother, but even I’m afraid of him.’

I could see what she meant. Isabella’s two brothers were very different. Alessandro was so laid-back and casual. He was fun to be around and always volunteered to take us shopping. He would even watch a movie with us in the evenings sometimes, though that usually ended in a pillow fight between him and his sister when they argued about what movie to watch.

Aurelio was the total opposite. He was cold—almost emotionless. As far as I could tell, he had no interests beyond what he did in the Mafia. The look on his face whenever he spoke to me or Isabella made it clear he found our conversations dull and beneath him. I understood most men in their twenties weren’t exactly fascinated by the chatter of teenage girls, but the looks of derision from Aurelio were so barbed they could cut.

I realised then that Isabella wasn’t alone. I’d never been afraid of anyone in my life. But I was afraid of Aurelio.

Alexi

January 1989

The meeting had gone on for longer than planned, as usual. Father liked the sound of his own voice, and Anton had been too lost in his own thoughts to help me drag the discussion to a swift conclusion.

I fucking hated meetings. Sitting around all day wore me out. It was a waste of time when I’d wanted to take a few men and sound out a few more restaurants to see if they’d defect to our protection from the Italians. The protection racket bored me, but I knew how much it pissed Dinelli off when I stole a restaurant off him.

I loosened my tie and poured a drink, kicking back in my chair as I switched the computer on. When Nikolai had first shown me the thing, I’d looked at it the way all three of my brothers had looked at me when I’d had a phone installed in the Merc. But I’d got used to turning it on at the end of the day now.

The modem shrieked and crackled through its ritual—static, beeps, the grinding howl of a connection clawing its way through the telephone line—before the screen finally blinked to life.

I was planning to talk with someone tonight. A girl I’d met on one of those BBS boards Nikolai had shown me. We’d spoken a couple of times, and I wanted to arrange a meeting now. I didn’t mind a bit of chat, but I wasn’t one of those sad fucks who sat at the computer all night, jerking off while talking to women. This needed to get real, fast.

I’d made sure the girl was after the same thing I was, so I just needed to arrange a time to meet her. It was hard to read her tone online, but she’d been blunt enough to make it obvious that she wanted no-strings sex of the hard and rough kind. Which suited me perfectly.

I liked women, but I had little time for the social niceties that accompanied the whole dating scene. If I wanted sex, I paid for it. No questions, no complications.

I might feel differently if I were looking for a wife, but at twenty-five I felt marriage could wait a while. And, as Anton often reminded me, finding a wife who’d be willing to cope with my tastes in the bedroom would present me with a challenge anyway. I figured Father’s silence meant he agreed with Anton—no woman would be able to tolerate me for long.

I turned back to the screen. There she was. A pixellated red smile and cartoon tits. She’d definitely been thinking whore when she created that image.

Of course, I wasn’t naïve enough to think people on computers would depict themselves accurately but I was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt and an hour or two of my time. Though I’d be fucking pissed off if she turned out to be all talk.

I’d been on a few of these boards before and usually found them tedious and full of bored teenagers, but this one promised exclusivity and screened out the pretenders by asking for a hefty member fee. It also promised to cater for exactly the kind of thing I was looking for.

Her words started to appear slowly on the screen.

You said we could meet? Shall we sort something?

Direct and to the point. I relaxed in my chair. This was what I wanted.

Sure. When works for you?

If you’re free, I could meet you Thursday night. Early evening? Does that suit you?

Yes.

Good. No messing about. Though I wanted to check one more time she was OK with what she was agreeing to.

Tell me again. Exactly what you want me to do to you.

I wasn’t—just—looking to get off with some sex talk. I needed to make sure she was serious about the things we’d discussed. It was one thing to say it on a computer, it was another to put herself in my hands, in a situation where she had no control.

Her answer came quickly.

I want you to fuck me.

I looked at the words on the screen and frowned. I could get a quick fuck in less than thirty minutes by dialling any one of a handful of numbers.

And? I prompted.

Do whatever you want to me.

Women fucking annoy me when they say things like that. If I did half the things I wanted to, I’d be arrested and she’d be messed up for life. If she was genuine about meeting me, she needed to be realistic about the limits she had to set.

Don’t mess around. Anyone can type that kind of crap. Show me you’re serious.

The typing came all in a rush.

I want you to force me. Even if I scream and fight I want you to keep going. I need to fight and know you won’t stop.

Better. This echoed our previous conversations. Rough sex was what she wanted.

You want to feel like I’m forcing you?

I want you to promise that whatever I say or do, and no matter how much I fight you, you won’t take no for an answer.

That was more like it. I was intrigued by the prospect of such a realistic roleplay.

Promising that is hardly a problem for me. I shifted my cock as it stirred in my trousers.

I want to pretend… her typing paused a moment, That I don’t want you.

I see. You want it to feel real?

Definitely. It’s really important that you don’t stop because it won’t feel real if you don’t play along or if you stop and ask if I’m OK.

Trust me, I won’t give a fuck if you’re OK or not.

You promise? You won’t stop. Whatever I say? Even if I scream and beg you?

I liked the sound of that. It turned me on to hear women beg. Even if they were begging for more, that still worked for me. Her begging me to stop would guarantee her the roughest fuck of her life.

Agreed. I unbuckled my belt and started stroking my cock, which had thickened through the conversation.

Have you got a photo then so I make sure I fuck the right girl?

Yes. I’ll get a courier to deliver it. Where do you want it sending?

You know the club Nemesis?

Sure.

Just send it there in an envelope marked Alexi. I’ll get it.

I was short now that business was all but concluded.

You said you know where you want this to happen?

There’s a warehouse a few blocks away from me—nobody’s touched it in years.

She typed the map coordinates.

If you met me on the corner of the road then you could grab me and drag me there?

I laughed, her attention to detail amusing and exciting me at the same time.

It’s locked, she typed, But I can get the key. I’ll leave it in the door so you can lock it behind us.

OK. So it’s agreed. I grab you, drag you off the street, lock you up and fuck you within an inch of your life—without stopping, even if you beg me.

That’s exactly what I want.

Then that’s exactly what you’ll get, sweetheart.

I jotted down the details and, picking up the phone, I ordered one of the family’s whores to come round and deal with my hard-on.

Eloise

January 1989

It had taken me ages to find a dance class that matched what I’d been doing back home—and even longer to convince Isabella to come with me. So I was irritated when she bailed because Aunt Ginevra suddenly needed help sorting old family photos into albums.

‘She’d forgotten she planned to do it,’ Isabella told me with a resigned shrug. ‘But Aurelio decided to remind her. He did it on purpose. I told him last week that your class was tomorrow. He just didn’t want me to go. Still, you go—Father can get one of his men to drive you. Maybe I can come next week.’

‘Couldn’t you just tell him you’ve made plans already?’

‘I can’t. If I let my mother down, Aurelio would be furious with me.’

‘Did I hear my name?’ Aurelio came in and ruffled his sister’s hair. ‘Problem, Bella?’

‘No,’ Isabella assured him quickly. ‘There’s nothing wrong. I was just telling Eloise about the photos and Mama needing me to sort them with her. I wondered if maybe you or Father could get one of your men to drive Eloise to the class tomorrow so she doesn’t have to miss it?’

Aurelio nodded. ‘I’ll drive you,’ he said, turning to me. His tone was casual but final, leaving no room for argument. ‘I’ve got some business on the other side of town, but I’ll pick you up and drive you back too.’

My stomach tightened; it sounded less like an offer and more like a command I had no choice but to obey. I didn’t like the idea of being alone with him at all.

‘I don’t mind missing the class,’ I told him. ‘I don’t want to inconvenience you.’

He looked at me as though I’d said something amusing. ‘If it inconvenienced me, I wouldn’t have offered,’ he replied, shrugging as if my protest didn’t matter.

‘If it’s out of your way…’ I lifted my chin a little. ‘I really don’t mind.’

‘It’s not out of my way, and I’d like you to be safe. You’re part of the family. Actually,’ he continued, ‘seeing as my mother is in the process of organising all her photos, we’d better make sure we have one of you for the album.’

He studied me for a moment, then turned to his sister. ‘Go fetch my camera,’ he ordered her. Isabella hurried off immediately at her brother’s command.

‘I take it you didn’t learn to drive in England?’ Aurelio asked me.

I wondered if he would have offered to lend me a car if I had learned, but I doubted it.

‘No, I had a few lessons but I wasn’t very good. I even tried an automatic, but I didn’t get on very well with roundabouts.’

‘Bella asked me for permission to learn, but I felt she was too young. She’s going to ask me again when she turns twenty-one.’

‘It’s seventeen to drive in the UK.’

‘It’s whatever age I deem appropriate in this household.’

I wasn’t sure how to reply to such blatant sexism, so I was relieved when Isabella turned up with the camera.

‘Here,’ she said brightly, handing it to Aurelio, who immediately stepped back and looked at me critically. ‘Try turning to the side,’ he suggested. ‘Show me your profile.’

I turned, self-consciously, into the pose he wanted and he took my picture.

‘This was such a good idea of yours,’ Isabella told him. ‘Though I’m hoping I won’t just have a photo to remember Eloise by. I’m trying to persuade her to stay in the States and do her degree here.’

She looked hopefully at her brother. ‘Maybe if you let me study Fashion, we could go to the same college?’

‘We have discussed this before,’ Aurelio told her coldly. ‘I will allow you to make clothes as a hobby, but you will not be studying it. The fashion scene is inappropriate for a girl in this family.’

He turned to me. ‘Are you academic enough for further education, Eloise? What would you study?’

I flushed. ‘Art. I like painting.’

‘Fine Art is a demanding discipline. I’d be interested to look over your work.’ He gave me a patronising smile. ‘Bring some pieces to my office when I’m free.’

I nodded politely, but there was no way on this earth I was going to show my paintings to my cold and condescending cousin. I’d rather stick them in the fireplace and watch them go up in smoke than take artistic criticism from Aurelio.

Aurelio smiled knowingly at me, as if he knew exactly what I was thinking.

‘I’ll get the photo developed this afternoon,’ he told Isabella. ‘Save a space in the album.’

I told myself it was only a picture. Just a family keepsake. But the way Aurelio’s eyes assessed me made it feel like something so much more…sinister.

Alexi

The girl was waiting when I pulled up. I was surprised she hadn’t tarted herself up like a whore. I’d expected short skirt and heels, not jeans and a ponytail. Though maybe this was her way of keeping the fantasy real. She was supposed to be the innocent bystander; I was the predator. That was the game.

It was a roleplay I’d played out a few times, but never with the detail we’d arranged. Usually, it stayed in the bedroom—kink, roleplay, a little brutality, nothing permanent. Force play, but not actual force. I’d always checked myself before going too far. I wanted a hard fuck, not a night in the cells.

I needed girls to set boundaries to control me because I couldn’t trust myself to know when I was going too far. And it had worked well enough. None of them had ever come back for a second go—I knew Anton had paid at least two of them out of prostitution. But I’d never left anyone in a state bad enough to cause me any trouble.

This girl was different.

She hadn’t drawn a single line. No safe words, no restrictions. In three late-night conversations, I’d pushed her, hard, asking for specifics. Every time, the answer had been the same:

Do whatever you want to me.

A fucking dangerous thing to say to any stranger, but it was verging on insanity to say it to me. Do what I want to her? Even I knew I’d have to stop before we did half the things I really wanted to.

She’d told me to do whatever I wanted—but she had no idea what that really meant. Maybe she thought she was in control, that this was still her game. It wasn’t. The second she said those words, it became mine.

Fortunately for her, I had no interest in drawing unwanted attention to the family, and I didn’t want the police at my door asking awkward questions. Sure, I could get a clean-up crew if things went too badly wrong, but that wasn’t my kink. I got enough opportunity to kill at work. Killing to me was a mundane and functional act. There was nothing erotic about it.

Even my darkest fantasies didn’t involve killing women. I just liked it rough. Force turned me on—terror, resistance, control. Not corpses. But I wondered if she had considered that? That some men get off on blood and death? Maybe that was part of the thrill for her.

I did plan to offer her cash afterwards. This might be her fantasy and she hadn’t seemed interested when I’d mentioned money, but when reality hit, she’d need a few dollars. Even if only for a medical check-up.

She gave me a polite smile as I crossed the street. Her acting was top tier. Clearly, realism mattered to her. So I got into character and stalked slowly to where she was standing.

The street was empty, just like she’d said. Not quite dark enough for the usual nightlife, but quiet enough that no one would be hanging around. Public enough to add a thrill. Private enough not to ruin my fun.

I stepped behind her. She tensed and moved away slightly. That tiny flinch—barely a shift of muscle—made me hard. Real fear leaked through no matter how well she acted, and I fucking loved it. Resistance, panic, her trembling body…I wanted to hurt her and leave her broken and destroyed on the floor.

If just my presence unsettled her, she was in for a hard few hours. Moving close enough to smell the sweat of her fear, I unsheathed my knife and pressed the point of it gently against her back.

‘Be silent,’ I said, in a low and deadly voice.

I’d mentioned nothing in advance about knives, but her open invitation to do whatever I wanted gave me no qualms about using my favourite tool. Knives were supposed to be props in roleplay, but for me they were something else. A promise. Once steel touched skin, I always wanted to go deeper.

She gave a sharp intake of breath but obeyed my command.

‘When I give the word,’ I continued, ‘you’ll turn around and walk beside me. No screaming. No looking at me. No hint that anything’s wrong. Understand?’

She gave a tiny nod.

‘If you draw attention to us, you’ll regret it.’

The girl swallowed, but I gave her no chance to react. ‘Turn around.’

She did, her eyes not daring to meet mine. Trembling. The shudder ran straight through me. I loved this—real fear, not giggling in lingerie and candlelight. This was what got me off. I appreciated her attention to detail and I appreciated her acting ability. This was going to be one hell of a fuck.

I motioned for her to walk ahead. I hadn’t touched her yet. I wanted to get closer to the warehouse before showing any muscle. No need for some idiot passerby to think they were watching a real crime. Though I was so turned on now that any passerby would quickly find himself gutted before he came between me and sinking myself into this girl’s tight pussy.

I’d scoped the place earlier. Derelict and dirty, the perfect backdrop for the scene of violence and violation. The key had been in the door like we agreed. I’d pocketed it and left it locked.

As we neared the entrance, I sheathed the blade and clamped my gloved hand over her mouth. She tried to scream. I’d expected that. I grabbed her waist, yanked her back into me, lifted her off the ground and squeezed the air out of her lungs. She was light as anything. Easy to carry and easy to silence. She flailed, but she had no chance against me.

I unlocked the door and shoved her inside. Her scream died against my glove as I forced her into the dark.

She thought she’d scripted this. She thought she knew the ending. She was wrong. Whatever story she thought she’d written, I was going to brand my own into her skin.

Dark Atonement is available for purchase on Amazon and to read in Kindle Unlimited.