47

MILLIE
A tender touch brushed against my cheek, Gio’s face hovering above mine for a fleeting moment. And then, as swiftly as he had arrived, he was gone, the door sealing shut and the engine’s growl signaling our movement. Nausea churned within me as the car’s motion set my senses on edge.
Harper leaned forward, her voice cutting through the muffled environment of the car’s interior. “You know, you’re quite the catch. If you weren’t tied to my sister and weren’t such an insufferable jerk, I might actually give you a chance.”
“Harper,” I groaned softly. Her words flowed ceaselessly when her nerves were high, an unchecked stream that often grew progressively audacious. Around Gio, her anger was a constant companion, a volatile mix that often translated into biting words.
A sardonic chuckle accompanied her next words. “Cat got your tongue? Rumor has it you’re not too selective when it comes to partners.”
The scene had unfolded in a blur of emotions and raw confrontation. The room had crackled with an intensity that left me reeling, and as the events continued to unfold, I found myself caught in a whirlwind of confusion, fear, and a sickening realization of the darkness that lay beneath the surface.
Gio’s silence hung heavy in the air, a palpable tension that seemed to stretch indefinitely. I found myself yearning for a glimpse of his face, to gauge the storm of emotions that surely brewed within him. The memory of the recent act he had committed, the taking of another man’s life, loomed over everything. In that charged atmosphere, I silently hoped Harper would exercise caution and choose her words carefully.
Harper leaned back, her body easing into the seat, yet her determination remained unwavering. It was clear that she was far from finished. Her persistence was a force to be reckoned with, an unrelenting need to elicit a reaction from Gio. The car pulled smoothly into the dimly lit confines of our apartment building’s underground garage, the world outside seemingly cut off. A whisper brushed against my ear, Harper’s voice revealing our arrival, but her words held an undercurrent of something unsettling. The dichotomy of her tone unsettled me – why couldn’t she address Gio with the same reasonableness she showed me?
The car door swung open, and Gio’s powerful arms effortlessly gathered me into his embrace. My body nestled against his as he carried me, a sense of security amidst the storm that swirled around us. We advanced toward the private elevator, the harsh halogen lights above casting an uncomfortable glare in my eyes. Despite the discomfort, I couldn’t tear my gaze away from the mirror that lined the elevator’s interior. It was a portal to a world I couldn’t directly witness, capturing the subtle interplay between Harper and Gio. She positioned herself beside him, her expression laden with intentions that didn’t bode well. The words she was about to utter felt like an impending storm, charging the air with electricity. “Have you ever had a threesome?”
Gio’s stillness was palpable, a statue carved from stone. His gaze remained fixed on me, but my attention was ensnared by the mirror’s reflection, a silent plea emanating from my eyes. A plea for Harper to reconsider, to close the door on her intent. But she seemed relentless, a tempest unyielding in her pursuit. “How many women have you raped before my sister?”
In that charged moment, Gio’s head snapped up, his eyes ablaze with a fiery intensity directed at Harper. Instinctively, my palm pressed gently against his chest, a subtle urging for him to temper his anger. Our connection was unbroken, the tension unyielding. “Can’t you find something else to do with your mouth other than to provoke?” His voice was laced with frustration, the lines etched on his face revealing the strain that threatened to burst forth.
Harper straightened, her stance unyielding. “Like what? Give you a blowjob?”
A humorless laugh escaped Gio’s lips, a fleeting moment of levity in a sea of turmoil. “Girl, you’ve yet to lay eyes on a man’s anatomy. Just learn to keep your lips sealed.”
My voice croaked in a warning, “Harper.”
Finally, we reached our destination, the elevator doors sliding open to unveil the pinnacle of our abode. Gio stepped out, carrying me with a grace that belied the chaos within and around us. His footsteps carried us toward the stairs leading to our sanctuary, but Harper’s form emerged like an unmovable obstacle. She stood her ground, a sentinel against Gio’s advance. “Where are you taking her?”
“To bed,” Gio’s voice held a touch of weariness, a plea for respite from the storm that raged in our lives. He sought to sidestep my sister’s obstruction, yet she shadowed his every move.
“She’s been drugged with Roofies. This might be the moment you’ve been waiting for. I won’t allow you to be alone with her.”
Gio’s body stiffened, his posture mirroring a predator on the precipice of attack. “Listen closely, and listen well. Move out of my path, and find your way to bed.”
A terse question hung in the air, “Or what?”
The weight of the moment was palpable, an unspoken challenge that seemed to encapsulate our shared history. I found my voice, a feeble yet pleading note, “Harper, please.” Her gaze bore into me, a silent communion between sisters, before she finally relented. With a single nod and a swift kiss on my cheek, she acquiesced, her promise of “Get better” an echo that resonated in the air.
Gio moved past her, carrying me up the stairs and into the haven of our bedroom. A wave of nausea surged within me, an insistent ache that couldn’t be ignored. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
In the bathroom, Gio held me over the toilet as the sickness overtook me. When it finally subsided, I whispered, “I’m sorry.”
A tender shake of Gio’s head brushed aside my apology as he handed me a damp towel. My hands trembled as I wiped my face, the cool fabric soothing against my skin. “You have nothing to apologize for. It’s a good thing that some of that poison has left your system. Roofies… a desperate attempt for people like Melvin to fulfill their vile desires.”
Guiding me back into the bedroom, Gio’s tone softened, carrying a rare hint of compassion. “Can you manage to undress?”
“Yeah,” I replied with a faint smile, my grip loosening in that split second. It was all it took for gravity to seize its opportunity, and I tumbled backward, a graceless descent that found its end on the soft expanse of the mattress. A spontaneous burst of laughter bubbled out of me, a mixture of relief and residual adrenaline. But then, as if the world sought equilibrium, a fresh wave of dizziness surged, and my amusement melted into a low groan.
He hovered over me, his face a slightly blurred visage in my unsteady state. His concern was palpable as he gazed down at me, his voice cutting through the haze, “I’m going to get you out of your clothes. They stink of smoke and vomit.” There was a strangely matter-of-fact tone to his words, an odd detachment as if the situation was commonplace. I struggled to grasp the significance, my mind a swirl of conflicting sensations and thoughts. It struck me that he was right; he had seen me unclothed countless times before, so this act seemed almost redundant.
With deliberate movements, he seized the hem of my shirt, his fingers cool against my feverish skin, and deftly pulled the fabric upward. I watched him, each inch of fabric that was freed feeling like a step towards clarity. The leather pants, a second skin in more ways than one, were unceremoniously unzipped and eased down my legs. His touch sent shivers skittering across my flesh, like a wake of goosebumps in its path. Then, my glittery bra joined the disarray, discarded with an indifference that was both jarring and oddly intimate. He straightened, his eyes locked onto mine, a rare vulnerability in his gaze.