Brutal Desire

Chapter One
Mila

“What do you mean, you need me to pay in cash?”

The receptionist on the other side of the desk narrows her eyes at me. She’s tall and thin and exceptionally beautiful—but that’s nothing new in LA, where everyone looks like they’re going to audition for a modeling job or a movie role at any given moment. She’s wearing thin green cat’s eye glasses that slide down her nose a little, strands of blonde hair falling out around her face, and I wonder what she’s thinking as she looks at me. For someone working at a therapist’s office, she doesn’t seem to have a lot of empathy for my situation. She’s looking at me as if I’m an irritation, something to be dealt with as quickly as possible. Like I’m wasting her time.

“Your insurance doesn’t cover these services. Dr. Hargrave discussed this with you before, at your brother’s last appointment. And the usual payment wasn’t made. I’m afraid I’m going to need you to pay in cash before you leave.” She glances at her computer screen. “It’s three hundred and fifty for the hour.”

“I—” I swallow hard. “I don’t know if I can manage that today.”

I think of the roll of mostly dollar bills in my purse, left over from work last night. I’d planned on depositing it after Niki’s therapy session, so I could pay the rent. It’s already three days late. Utilities are due. I got a notice yesterday that my phone bill is on the verge of being turned off. Just thinking about it makes me want to curl into a ball and cry until my head aches, but that won’t solve anything.

The receptionist’s lips thin. No sympathy there. “I’m afraid that we won’t be able to schedule Nikolai’s next appointment if the bill isn’t paid today. And once a patient is taken off of Dr. Hargrave’s regular schedule, it’s very difficult to fit them back in. I’m afraid I can’t guarantee your brother future visits if you can’t pay.”

I take a deep, shaky breath, glancing at the hallway. Niki hasn’t come out of his session yet. I don’t want him to overhear any of this. Things have been difficult enough without him knowing about our financial struggles—or how difficult it is to pay for his therapy. He’s only eleven, but that’s old enough to understand if he hears. “Just let me make a call, alright?”

The receptionist nods, her expression still pinched. I step away from the desk, retreating to a chair in the waiting room that’s not near any of the other waiting patients. Quickly, I look for an all-too-familiar contact, feeling as if I’m holding my breath while it rings. 

It rings again, and again, before it goes to voicemail. I close my eyes, feeling a small pang of defeat. 

“Alfio—” I swallow hard. “It’s Mila. Please call me back. I’m not trying to pressure you—but the therapy bill wasn’t paid. We talked about it the last time—I know you’re a busy man. If you need something more from me, we can arrange it…” I bite my lip, trying not to think about what that something more might be. It doesn’t matter. If it means Niki is taken care of, it’s worth it.

Biting my lip, I quickly type out a text message. I know Alfio doesn’t like it when I call or text too much—he likes having me at his beck and call, but he wants to be the one in control. He doesn’t like it when I’m needy. But I’m too desperate to think about what the consequences might be.

Please at least text me back. I’m going to have to pay in cash for Niki’s therapy, and I won’t be able to cover the bills. I’ll have to pick up extra shifts, and I know how much you hate other men touching me. I’ll do whatever you need.

The text sounds as desperate as I feel, and I hate it. I hate all of this. But since Alfio took an interest in me, I’ve been able to take better care of Niki. I’ve seen improvements because of his therapy. And at the end of the day, that’s all that matters.

I’d sacrifice anything to make sure he’s safe and cared for. After losing our mother, I’m all he has left.

A minute ticks by, and then another. There’s no response, and I see the receptionist glancing at the clock, and then at me. In five minutes, the therapy session will be finished. If I haven’t paid by then, Niki is going to hear the conversation. 

Taking another deep breath, I get up and go back to the desk, fishing out the roll of bills from my purse. I count them out, trying not to look at the receptionist, but when I pass the money over to her, I can see the judgemental look on her face.

“There. Can we schedule the next appointment now?” I try to say it sweetly enough to keep the tension out of my voice, but it’s difficult. 

“Of course.” Her nose wrinkles as she looks at the cash, and then at me, but she takes it, turning back to her computer.

Five minutes later, just as she’s finishing up and printing out a reminder for me, the doorway down the hall opens and Niki comes out. He has his Batman backpack slung over one shoulder, and he’s not smiling, but I can see that he’s more relaxed than he was this morning. After the last year of being his sole caregiver, I’ve learned how to pick up on those little tells. 

He comes straight to me, leaning into my side and wrapping his arms around my waist as I finish signing a release form to send to his school and take the reminder note. “Hey there, kiddo.” I reach down, ruffling his hair. “Want to go get some ice cream?”

Niki doesn’t say anything, but I feel him nod. I turn, guiding him out of the door of the waiting room and leaving all of that behind me. Now that he’s here with me, I need to make sure everything seems as if it’s alright.

Niki hasn’t spoken out loud since the car accident a year ago that killed our mother. He was in the car with her, trapped while the paramedics had to use the jaws of life to cut him out and retrieve her body. They were on their way to pick me up from ballet practice, and the guilt of that still lingers with me. I’d been in the middle of intense recitals leading up to a showcase, and my feet had been so sore that I hadn’t wanted to take the bus home. 

I’ve channeled all that guilt into caring for Niki. But everything had been harder for him since the accident. He still hasn’t spoken, but I know the therapy is helping—there have been fewer panic attacks, fewer nightmares. It’s still not easy, but things are getting better. I have hope that in another year, he’ll be on the mend.

If he has to stop, I don’t know what will happen. It doesn’t matter what I have to do in order to keep Alfio paying for what I can’t afford. 

There’s an ice cream shop a block away from Dr. Hargrave’s office, and Niki and I walk to it, his finger curled through the belt loop of my jeans. He’s done that every time we’re together for the past year—he always has to be holding on to me in some way. It makes having to leave him as much as I do so much harder.

I check my phone again, discreetly, as I push open the door to walk into the shop. I’m immediately hit with a wave of warm, sugar-scented air, and I feel a silent ripple of excitement go through Niki from where he’s standing, nearly pressed to my side. 

There’s nothing from Alfio. Not even the most brusque of texts. I shove my phone back into my purse, feeling discouraged. He rarely goes for very long without responding. If he’s irritated with my having contacted him, he’ll threaten me in some way, or tell me how disappointed he is, starting off a game that I know all too well at this point—and one that will end with my begging for forgiveness and accepting his punishment.

It’s a game he loves. I’ve played right into it by contacting him with a desperation that sets me up for exactly what he likes. And there’s still no response—which unsettles me, anxiety seeping into my bones. It’s not the most rational feeling—he could be in a business meeting, or simply not in the mood to deal with me, which has happened before. But I have an instinctual, gut feeling that something is wrong.

It’s a feeling that’s rarely steered me wrong in the past.

“Do you want raspberry chocolate?” I try to push down the worry for now, not wanting Niki to pick up on it. I know his favorite flavors, and since he won’t speak, we go through this every time. I list off the possibilities until he shakes his head yes to something.

“Salted caramel? Cotton candy? Strawberry cheesecake?”

He nods yes to the last one, and I smile at the teenage girl behind the counter. “Can I get a scoop of strawberry cheesecake in a sugar cone and a scoop of pistachio in a cup, please?”

The girl nods, starting to scoop up the ice cream, and I feel my phone buzz in my pocket. I reach for it, my heart thumping in my chest as I hope that I’ll see Alfio’s name there. I don’t want to see him tonight, but I also don’t want to deal with the consequences from my landlord tomorrow if I don’t manage to fix whatever has caused Alfio to let the therapy payments lapse. Three days is my grace period for the rent, and the landlord made it very clear when we were late last month that I wouldn’t get away with it again. 

I see my ballet teacher’s name flash on the screen instead, and wince. I pick up my phone, herding Niki towards a table, and answer. “Hello?”

“Mila.” Annalise’s raspy voice is so full of disapproval that I know what she’s going to say before she even speaks. “You missed practice today.”

“I know.” I let out a sharp breath, trying to sound as contrite as possible. “I had to take Niki to therapy. I’ll come in and make up the missed time.”

“There’s a showcase soon.” The irritation practically drips from her voice. Annalise has very little patience with family issues—or anything, really, that gets in the way of her ballerinas’ performances. “You have the lead role, Mila, but I’m sure your understudy would be willing to put in the time if you are not—”

“No, I am.” I bite my lip, struggling to keep my voice steady. Niki has looked up from the napkin he’s doodling on, a small crease forming between his brows. I can see the anxiety starting to make his face scrunch up, and if I’m not calm, he won’t be able to be either. “I’m dedicated to this, I promise. I’ll do my best to make sure there’s no overlap in the future.”

“See that you do. You’ve looked tired at practice recently. If you need pills for better sleep—”

“No—I’m fine. I promise. I’ll be at practice early tomorrow, and make up the time I missed today.”

“I expect you here an hour early.” Her voice is curt, and the line goes dead immediately after, leaving a hollow feeling in my stomach. I don’t need to look at the printed reminder in my purse to know that Niki’s appointment next week also overlaps with a scheduled practice.

I’ll just have to ask Darcy to take him. I know she’ll be willing to—she loves Niki, and she’s always happy to help, but I hate putting more on her plate, too. And I also hate not being the one who is there for him. I’m already gone so much, with ballet, my evening job at the club, and keeping Alfio satisfied.

For six months, he and I have had an arrangement, ever since the last showcase, where I had my first lead role as Giselle. Powerful figures in Los Angeles often patronize the ballet as a means of ‘supporting the community,’ and several patronize individual ballerinas, though that’s kept quieter. I know several of the girls I dance with have arrangements with politicians and other rich men similar to what Alfio and I have.

Had? I bite my lip as I glance at my phone again, trying not to panic. I know I’m likely blowing it out of proportion, but everything feels as if it’s on the verge of crashing down. Worst-case scenarios slam through my head one after another, and I pick at my ice cream, feeling my stomach churn.

By the time I’ve gotten us both home, there’s still been no response. I tried calling again, only to get his voicemail. By now, he should have either gotten angry with me, or baited me into mollifying him after being ‘clingy.’ Neither of those things have happened, and the stirring of unease in my stomach grows more intense, until I can’t ignore it.

I’ve never gone over to his house uninvited. Doing so would likely result in consequences that I’m not sure I’m prepared to face. I’ve only seen Alfio angry a few times, and it’s terrifying when he takes it out on me. But I think of facing my landlord, or of having to explain to Niki in a few days why we’re eating dinner in the dark, and I push down the fear.

I get Niki settled in to work on his homework, and text Darcy. I need to see someone tonight. Can you watch Niki?

The answer comes through almost immediately. Of course. Whatever you need. I can be over there around seven?

I send her another quick message, letting her know that’s perfect, and then busy myself with chores around the apartment. It’s more a means to keep my hands, and therefore my mind, occupied than anything else, but it works for a little while. I manage to push aside the thoughts of the looming bills, how Alfio will react to me coming to his mansion uninvited, and why he hasn’t responded to me at all—for a little while.

Every so often, though, it all comes rushing back in. My heart races and my stomach twists, and I wonder if there’s ever going to be a time when it doesn’t feel like this. When life isn’t this hard, and I don’t have to throw myself on the limited mercy of a cruel man to make sure that my brother is cared for.

By the time I serve up dino nuggets and french fries for Niki, and a salad for myself for dinner, there’s still no response from Alfio. I hear a knock on the front door a few moments later, and then Darcy walks in, still in her scrubs from her shift.

She works as a physical therapist. We met through the ballet and quickly became fast friends. Even though she knows what I do for a second job, and even though she has some idea of the ‘relationship’ that I have with my patron, she’s never judged me for any of it. She’s had difficulties of her own in life, and she understands that sometimes hard choices have to be made. We’ve known each other for a few years—since before my mother died—and she’s the best friend I’ve ever had.

“Hey there, little guy.” Darcy beams at Niki as she walks into the kitchen, and Niki makes a trilling noise in the back of his throat that passes for excitement. It almost seems like an effort to speak, and every time I hear it, I feel a flash of hope. It hasn’t crossed over into speech yet—but six months ago, he wasn’t even making those sorts of noises. He was utterly and entirely silent. 

The therapy is working. And that’s why I have to do this. 

“I’ll handle the cleanup if you need to go.” Darcy glances at me, the furrow on her brow telling me that she’s picking up on my mood, and I let out a breath as I try to relax. 

“Okay. I just need to change, and then I’m going to head out.” I flash her a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

“No thanks needed. The kiddo and I are always happy to hang out. Isn’t that right, Niki?” Darcy scoops a few leftover dino nuggets off of the baking sheet and plops down in the chair next to him. “Mm. I like the stegosaurus best, I think.”

Niki lets out a choked sound that’s almost a laugh, and I feel my shoulders relax a little. Whatever I have to do with Alfio tonight, seeing this makes it easier. It reminds me why, and that it’s worth it.

There’s really no other choice.

I retreat to my bedroom, quickly sifting through the clothes hanging in my closet. There’s a pink silk slip dress with a lace-trimmed neckline and hem—more of a glorified nightgown than anything else—that Alfio gave me months ago, and I slip it off of the hanger. Maybe seeing me wearing a gift from him will soften the consequences of showing up on his doorstep out of the blue. I know he likes the dress—he nearly ripped it off of me the first time I wore it for him.

Quickly, I slip the dress and a pair of ballet flats on, running a brush through my long blonde hair. I wear it up more often than not, but I leave it loose tonight, falling in a silky waterfall down between my shoulderblades. A swipe of mascara to darken my light-colored eyelashes and a little bit of tint on my lips, and I’m ready to go. Alfio prefers me with as little makeup as possible—he likes the delicacy of my features and the simplicity of a bare face, but so few men actually understand what goes into creating that sort of look.

Niki is still in the kitchen when I make my way towards the front door, and I’m glad. I don’t want him to see me dressed up like this and wonder where it is that I’m going. 

Darcy sees me as I walk out, and she presses her lips together. There’s no disapproval on her face, though, only concern. She murmurs something to Niki, getting up from the table, and I tense as she walks up to me.

“Are you going to be alright?” she asks quietly, her gaze flicking over what I’m wearing. “You’re going to see him, aren’t you?”

“Maybe.” I bite my lip, wondering how honest I should be about what’s going on. “I haven’t heard from him, and Niki’s therapy wasn’t paid for today. If he doesn’t follow through on what he promised last time—”

Darcy’s eyes widen a little. “You’re just going to see him? Without—”

I nod. “I have to figure this out. Please—just keep Niki from getting too worried, okay? I’ll  text you when I get there and when I leave.”

“Okay.” Darcy lets out a sharp breath. “Just be careful, alright? Men like that—”

She doesn’t have to finish the sentence. I know as well as she does how someone like Alfio might react to what I have planned. But it doesn’t change the fact that I don’t feel as if I have any choice.

If he’s abandoned me on a whim, I have no idea what I’m going to do. I’m willing to risk a confrontation in order to find out.

I call an Uber, giving Darcy one last reassuring smile as I head outside into the chilly evening. I can’t really afford it, but I’m hoping the cost is made up by the help I’ll get from Alfio. I shift nervously as I stand outside, waiting for it, trying not to think about what will happen after I get there.

The uneasy feeling that I’ve had all day only grows on the ride over. Something is wrong. The thought has stuck in my head, worming deeper and deeper until I tangle my fingers tightly together in my lap, all of my focus concentrated on not panicking. I’ve gotten very good at managing my emotions for Niki, but right now, without him here to worry about, it’s proving difficult.

The Uber drops me a block or so away from Alfio’s mansion, as I asked. I tuck my hands into the pockets of my burgundy faux-leather jacket, walking quickly to the iron gate. I remember, too late, that there are always guards out front. I might not even get far enough to talk to him, if he really doesn’t want to see or speak to me. He’ll just have me turned away, and I won’t have any choice but to go home.

When I get to the front of the mansion, though, there’s no one there. There are no guards standing by the outer gate or the inner one, and both are cracked open, unlocked. That uneasy feeling in my gut turns to a cold chill, beginning in the pit of my stomach and sweeping outwards. 

I no longer feel as if I’m blowing anything out of proportion by thinking that something is very, very wrong.

I should leave. I already know that, before I ever take a step inside the outer gate. Something has happened here, something beyond what I’m equipped to deal with, and I need to go. But that same desperation that caused me to call an Uber and come here in the first place propels me forward, through the inner gate and across the courtyard, all the way up to the huge mahogany front door of Alfio’s mansion.

I’ve been here once before. He brought me here for a weekend, one that I don’t like to remember. I was worried about Niki for all of it, and had to pretend that I wasn’t. I tried my best to hide it, but Alfio picked up on my mood, and he punished me for it—for not being entirely focused on him. 

I wish I could be happy at the idea of being free of him. I wish I could feel anything but this desperate fear that I’ll be left on my own to figure this all out again. 

Carefully, I reach for the doorknob. I expect it to be locked, but the door turns easily, opening up into the main entryway of the mansion. It’s dark and quiet inside, with no guards to be seen, and I feel that chill creep up my spine again.

Surely even if he’d gone away on business, or vacation, he would have left someone behind. He wouldn’t leave the mansion entirely unattended, without anyone to keep an eye on it. 

I close the door behind myself, trying not to make a sound. If anyone is here, I want to go unnoticed as long as possible, until I can try to figure out what’s going on. Years of ballet has left me light on my feet, and I creep through the entryway and towards the stairs. 

Slowly, I make my way up the stairs, one at a time, listening for any signs of life in the house. I’m not even sure what I’m looking for, exactly, other than some reassurance that Alfio hasn’t simply disappeared—or at least some explanation for what’s happened. 

I reach the top of the stairs, turning down a hallway, when I hear a sudden, deep voice coming from Alfio’s bedroom. It’s not his voice, though, and I freeze, my heart suddenly thudding in my chest. There’s the sound of footsteps, heading towards the bedroom doors, and I back up rapidly, smacking into another closed door. I fumble for the knob, frantically opening the door just in time to slip inside and close it behind me before I hear Alfio’s bedroom door open.

Breathing hard, I lean back against the closed door of the room I’m now in. I glance around, trying to get my bearings, and I realize I’m in another bedroom. It looks as if someone left some things behind—there’s a handful of personal items scattered over a dresser, and next to it, a metal money clip with bills folded into it and an expensive-looking watch.

I swallow hard, staring at the money and the watch. I know I shouldn’t even think about what’s crossing my mind. I know that if Alfio does come home, or his guests, or whoever left this here, and its discovered that I stole it, I’ll pay in worse ways than I can imagine. I have no idea what Alfio might do to me for something like that.

But I also have a deep, relentless feeling that something bad has happened here. Something that means that my ‘relationship’ with Alfio is a thing of the past, one way or another. And if that’s true, then I’m going to need all the help I can get. 

Before I can talk myself out of it, I dart forward, scooping the money and the watch off of the dresser. I shove the money and the watch into my purse, clutching it close to me as I press my ear to the door and try to hear if the person in the other bedroom has left yet. 

There are no sounds of footsteps. The voice has faded. And I need to get out of here.

Alfio isn’t home, I feel sure of that. Whoever is, is probably someone I should avoid. I can keep trying to get in touch with Alfio later, but for now, I need to leave.

I crack the door open the tiniest bit, peering out. The hallway is dark and quiet, and I slip out of the room, looking around before I start to make my way down the hall. I hear a creaking behind me and glance over my shoulder, feeling another shiver run down my spine. There’s no one there—just the sounds of a house—but I quicken my pace, glancing over my shoulder again as I hurry towards the stairs.

Everything is fine. I just need to get out of here, call another Uber, and—

I realize I forgot to text Darcy when I arrived, just as I run directly into what feels like a brick wall.

A brick wall that smells enticingly of sandalwood and vanilla, and whose hands grip my arms hard. Before I can take a breath, I’m nearly lifted off of the floor as someone turns me, those inflexible hands refusing to let go as I’m pinned to the wall.

I’ve been caught. And unless I think of something very quickly—

I don’t think there’s any chance of escape.