Whore

  When we get out of the car, the shuffled steps of the guards surround us, but I’m kept in the dark. The air shifts and a door slams behind me. Nico stops me and takes off my mask. I can’t tell where we are at first. A dark, twisty hallway. Claustrophobia filters through my consciousness, but I remind myself that this is much better than the room I’ve been locked in for months. Just then another door opens, and the light is blinding. I stumble, blinking to see if my eyes will adjust.

  “I need to use the restroom,” I tell Nico.

  “Louise will accompany you.” He steps aside and Louise moves toward me, placing her hand on my back.

  I imagine flipping her over my head and digging my heel into her neck, but instead, I move in the direction she takes me. My dress is difficult to work around in the restroom, but I manage. When I come out to wash my hands, I take a long look at myself, wondering what Soti will think when he sees me. Will he believe my act? Do I look different? Pregnant? Brokenhearted? I feel so different, it seems strange that it wouldn’t show in the mirror. I catch Louise’s eyes in the mirror and envision slamming her face in the mirror and running out, but instead, I dry my hands and face her.

  “Shall we?” I motion to the door, and her hand returns to my back.

  The banquet hall shines from the light bouncing off of the chandelier, fine cutlery, and staggering display of diamonds. Perfume and fresh flowers mix into a combination that makes my stomach roil. Every direction I look, those attending the fundraiser are dressed as beautifully as I am. If it were another time, another situation, I would enjoy admiring all the beauty in the room, but as it is, they’re in my way. I scan the room for Soti. Back and forth, top to bottom. Where are you? I lean against our table, breathing through the panic. Nico’s hold on me tightens.

  He pulls out a chair for me. I hesitate, afraid I won’t be able to see him once I sit down. Too many are standing around. Nico’s hand presses into my shoulder until I’m forced to sit.

  “Don’t you dare make a scene.” He hands me a cloth napkin and I dab my eyes.

  Our table gradually fills up and with each new person comes another round of introductions. I’m out of practice being sociable and mostly smile and play the dutiful, if not doting, wife. My shoulders sag and it takes a conscious effort to engage. I’d forgotten how exhausting it is to be in performance mode. I fade in and out of the conversation.

  “—Oh, you know Sotirios Christos?” The man to my right asks Nico. I jump to attention. “I haven’t seen him yet, but I’m sure he’s here somewhere. I believe he’s one of the main coordinators of this event.”

  I take the opportunity to look over the crowded room again and vow to pay better attention to the conversation. I pick at the salad and chicken cordon bleu; it’s tasteless. Midway through the cheesecake, which is delicious, the hair on the back of my neck prickles.

  I look up and Soti stands beside me. His eyes are wide, but other than that, his face is void of emotion. My beautiful man. I take in every feature. The familiar and the new. A burly beard, slicked back hair that falls to his shoulders, and a grey suit, all new. The scar on his forehead, the light reflecting in his eyes, and the danger he radiates but which couldn’t be further from the truth, I recognize. He’s more devastating than ever.

  Nico stiffens next to me and takes my hand in his. Soti watches it all, his eyes giving away nothing. And then she speaks, and my heart bleeds.

  “Looks like our exes have reunited,” Stella says.

  It’s then that I notice Stella standing next to Soti, her hand on his back, looking like an exotic goddess who has cast her spell on him.

  “Stella and Soti? Now that could work.” Nico laughs. He could be fooling us all, but he looks surprised yet pleased, as if this is going even better than he imagined.

  I push back my chair and stand up, I’m not sure why, maybe to break from Nico, or to feel less intimidated by Soti and Stella looming over me. Together. A couple. They look beautiful together. Untamed. Powerful.

  “I had to see for myself that it was you.” His voice scrapes over my skin like sandpaper, anger coating each word.

  I shiver. “It’s me,” I say, then chuckle. Before I can stop myself, I reach out and touch his hand.

  He’s startled by it then quickly recovers, lifting my hand to his lips. “You look well. So beautiful.” His kiss lingers on my hand, making me flush.

  Nico stands up and pulls my back against his chest. He wraps his arms around me on either side, and his hands rest on my stomach. I freeze.

  “My wife is more beautiful than ever, isn’t she? She has that glow about her, don’t you think?” He rubs my stomach and Soti pales and lets go of my hand.

  A choked cry comes from Stella’s direction and we all turn to look at her. A tear runs down her cheek. She gathers her gown in her hands and rushes off.

  “You’re really okay, then?” Soti asks.

  Nico’s arms tighten around me, heavy as chains.

  “I am. I’m sorry I left the way I did, Soti, but as you can see, I’m fine.” I tremble when the words leave my mouth, and if it weren’t for Nico holding me up, I’d crumble.

  Soti stares at me for a moment—his eyes assessing it all—and then he nods.

  “I should check on Stella,” he says, stepping back. “Take care, Lilith.”

  And with that one word—Lilith—all hope is obliterated.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  LILITH

  Insanity doesn’t wait for convenience.

  I cry. And cry and cry and cry. Wells of tears I didn’t know I had left. There is a place beyond grief and brokenness and that is where I live. Where a far off flicker brightens long enough to fool you into thinking there is a reason for light, only to drill reality home in the next moment.

  No one plans to be a whore. But these are the repercussions.

  It’s in my blood. And I will never escape it.

  I replay the anguish in Soti’s face—it was a window inside his thoughts for the briefest of seconds, but in that time I saw my pain reflected. I saw that I’ve hurt him irreparably and that he’s suffered as much as I have in our time apart. It doesn’t give me relief; it drives the point home that I do not deserve him.

  I obsess over Stella. Is she a good person? Does she genuinely care for him or is she using him? Did she cry because I’m pregnant with Nico’s baby or because she wants her own baby? Will she be the one to give Soti a baby?

  I lose a few days to this. Nico brings in Dr. Bryson to talk sense into me.

  “You have to eat, Lilith.”

  I sit in the chair by the window and stare at the way the water laps around a protruding tree.

  “Lilith … does anything sound good? Maybe some soup?”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  Dr. Bryson moves in front of me, looking confused. “What … do you want me to call you?”

  “Lili.”

  “Oh, okay. You have to stay healthy for the baby, Lili. ”

  “Do you think I’m a good person, Dr. Bryson?”

  He clears his throat. “You seem to be a good person.” He nods.

  “I’m not. How can I bring a baby into the world when I’m not good and neither is the father? What kind of cruelty is that?”

  “What are you proposing you do? Starve yourself to death? Give the baby no choice of survival one way or the other?”

  I glare at him. “What kind of life is this for anyone, locked up? Get me out of here and I’ll eat.”

  “You know I can’t do that.”

  “And you know it’s okay if I can’t eat right now. Plenty of women have morning sickness and can’t keep anything down.” I move my chair so he’s not in front of me anymore. “This place is making me sick and I can’t keep anything down. It’s not the baby’s fault. It’s Nico’s fault. It’s your fault. So get out of here and leave me alone!” I scream.

  Solitude is driving me mad. Privacy and a day to myself used to be my end goal. I longed for a day without any human
interaction. A day with nothing to do but read and think and be. Sundays were the closest thing I had to time alone, but that was just because I didn’t take any customers. My day off was still filled with conversation and Angel or Tricia waxing or massaging me.

  Now, days and days go by when I don’t see anyone. Nico is gone most of the time, and the rest of the house reverts to radio silence when he’s away. My food shows up in my room when I’m sleeping. I don’t hear a single mortal sound.

  Unless Nico shaves my legs and under my arms, they don’t get done. He doesn’t trust me with a blade and he’s right not to. I dream of getting his knife or a razor blade and having my way with it. Before I got pregnant, I’d dream about the day it’d happen, and I’d know in a flash, which of us I should go after: myself or him. Most days I would have chosen myself, but now I don’t have that luxury. For now, I will get out of here and anyone who gets in my way will die trying.

  My thoughts tangle me up until I don’t trust what is real and what is something I’ve made up in one of my head tangents.

  I write in my journal—sometimes just one word for the day, other days endless run-on sentences. Today I write: I never knew true loneliness until I met Soti. He saw inside my shell and filled the void. Yesterday I wrote: RAGE. The day before that: There is no such thing as justice. For every person that gets caught for an outrageous crime or grievance, there are thousands who get away with not just one crime, but many. What is justice anyway? Loss of freedom? Lack of love? Many who are loved are not worthy of it. Where is the justice in that? Who decides? The day before: How did I ever think I loved Nico Santelli?

  The night I saw Soti, I wrote: He was never mine, so why do I feel like I’ve lost him?

  I talk to my baby all day long. I tell her everything—I feel certain it’s a girl. I can admit it might be wishful thinking, but still, I know. I pace and pretend like I’m at the community center, and that everything is just as it was in the days before I left. My thoughts go from deranged to practical. Sometimes I write down the ingredients of dishes I saw Miss Jez make and hope that I can one day make them. I draw pictures of Miss Christine with the kids and Miss Jez by the stove. Miss Jez got most of my attention because she was so vocal, but I was drawn to Miss Christine’s quiet spirit the most. She felt like still waters on a stormy day. I’m not even sure what she thought of me, she was so quiet, but I hope she knew how much I admired her. If I think of what I’d want in a sister, she’d be it.

  I wonder if they miss me, but then it gets too hard to think about and I walk to the window and think about escaping. The window is my only proof that the outside world still exists.

  At some point, I wonder if I am finding myself in the madness. If maybe I can finally see who I am and make peace with it. My mother can no longer shape and control me. Nico, even in keeping me locked away, cannot make me who I am. It’s in these quiet moments that I know I still have some control. I can let them win or I can become defiant. It’s not over yet.

  Louise comes in my room and sets down a tray of food.

  “Hi. Would you care to join me for lunch?” I ask, as if she’s my guest.

  She doesn’t acknowledge my question. The tray goes on the table and she makes a quick exit.

  I roll my eyes.

  “It wouldn’t kill you to be nice to me once in a while,” I yell, as the door locks behind her.

  What’s going to happen if she talks to me? What does she think I’m going to do? Use her to escape? Ha. Yes. One day I will, and she will regret not talking to me then.

  A lot of my time is spent thinking about all the things I’ve never done. And besides thinking about Soti and having a baby in this awful nightmare, that is when I cry the most. I’ve never filled a car with gas. Put up a Christmas tree. Roller-skated. Attempted to ride a bike. Picked berries. Gone sledding. Had a birthday cake. Planned a party. Planted flowers. Owned a pet. I’ve never been to that place I always thought had such a romantic name: Carmel-by-the-Sea.

  This is why it needs to be Nico and not me when I finally get my razor blade moment … because I may never get to experience all these things, but I have to make sure my baby does.

  Louise sets a negligee on the bed and tells me to be ready to go to Nico in twenty minutes. I pick up the sheer material and go over my new strategy as I get ready. It’s time to put all those acting lessons whoredom taught me to the test. This will be the ultimate role to play.

  His eyes glaze over when I walk in. He glances down at the curve of my stomach and smiles. When I smile back, he freezes and looks suspicious. I turn around slowly, letting him admire my body. His eyes are black lust when I face him.

  “What are you up to?” He traces a trail from my neck to the swell of my breasts.

  “There was a time when we were really good at this,” I purr. I take his suit jacket off. He doesn’t wear ties or belts around me. Strangely enough, the bastard doesn’t trust me.

  “We’ve always been good at this,” he argues, grabbing my wrist as I undo his pants. My eyes snap to his. “Tell me you’re coming back to me, Lilith.” His hand wraps around my neck.

  The name threatens to undo me. I’m his puttana.

  “Who says I ever left?” I push his pants and boxer briefs down and wrap my hands around him, stroking up and down with the exact amount of pressure I know drives him crazy.

  His head falls back. “I’ve missed you,” he groans. “Get on your knees, baby.”

  I hesitate. Since that day I told him I wouldn’t be on my knees for him again I’ve managed to keep my word. It’s hard to relinquish my stubbornness, but I do. I fall to my knees and take him deep, gazing in his eyes as if I live and breathe for him. Nico thinks he taught me everything I know, but there are some things you have to discover on your own. You can know every technique out there, and I’ve made sure to do so, but every man is different. A man likes to be in control one time and surprised the next. The secret comes down to this: learn his tells; the signs he gives you each time you’re together; the shudder that tells you what you’re doing is working. Whatever he’s loving in the moment, do that like it’s all you were put on this earth to do—your only driving purpose being to please him—and he’ll be putty in your hands.

  Nico doesn’t even last thirty seconds in my mouth; it’s pathetic, really. I keep my eyes trained adoringly on him and release him with a pop, my lips breaking into a satisfied grin.

  He bends down and lifts me, hugging me and kissing my face.

  “There’s my girl. I was afraid I’d lost you,” he says.

  I swallow back tears. Maybe he’ll think I’m overcome with love for him and not the truth, which is I hate him.

  He walks me to the bed and slowly lays me bare before him, looking down at my body as if he owns it.

  “Thanks to you and the hotel, my uncle is trusting me more, leaning on me more. It hasn’t meant anything until today, with you coming to me willingly. I love you, mia piccola puttana. I love that you’re giving me a child. I love the way your body knows mine. I love that you’re such a good student.” He smirks and kisses down my jaw. I feel him hardening between my legs.

  I close my eyes and let the tears fall. Let him think what he will.

  He’s gentler this time, the sex less urgent, and just as I relax, hoping he will stay that way, his hands grip my face, hard.

  “Tell me you love me.” His words dig in with each thrust.

  I stare at him.

  He yanks my hair until I cry out.

  “Lilith.”

  “I love you,” I whisper.

  His head falls back as he finishes and my body wars against me, trying to revolt. When I can’t hold back any longer, I push him off of me and run to the toilet, purging the words out of my mouth.

  I had a window of honesty with Soti. It will take practice to revert to being a liar again.

  A couple nights later, when I see Nico, he’s pacing and looks exhausted. I put my hand on his shoulder and it startles him. He stops walking a
nd places his hands against the wall, his head bowed.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  “Everything is so right. Finally,” he says softly. He turns to face me and it seems a lifetime ago since I saw him this vulnerable. “My uncle passed away tonight … heart attack.”

  “What?” My mouth drops open. “I’m so sorry.”

  His hands wrap around my waist. “It was time. My uncle is … it was just time. It means more responsibility for me, but I’m ready. Building this place is the best thing I’ve done … I can protect you here. And I can run the business the way I want.”

  My stomach churns with every word out of his mouth. I swallow my pride and disgust and put my hand on his cheek. “I thought you loved your uncle like a father.”

  The corners of his mouth lift. “I did—I do—but he would’ve never retired.” He almost looks tender if it weren’t for the horrible things he’s saying. “He was already slipping. I’ve been cleaning up his messes for the past year. I’ll miss him, but it’s best this way. It wasn’t a mob war or anything tragic like that. All the obstacles are simply gone and now I can really get to work.”

  I stare at him, wondering how he ever deceived me so completely and terrified of what it means for our future if he can discard his family this easily.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  LILITH

  Here a kick, there a kick, everywhere a kick, kick.

  SIX MONTHS LATER

  “Once the hotel is running smoothly, I want to take you and the baby to Brazil. There’s a city on the northeast coast—Recife. I’ve been looking into properties there. I think it’s the perfect place for us to raise the baby.” He leans in to nuzzle my nose. “We’ll need a place to get away when things get too crazy here. If you like it there, we can make it our permanent home when I retire.”

  Thinking about the future with Nico piles more chains around my neck. His softening toward me started out gradually—the room with windows, excitement about the baby—and after our confrontation and rage with each other that night when he threw the book at my face, he’s had a gentler approach. Especially once he thought I was back. Recently, it’s more than that. Nico behaves like a man in love. Baby on the way, happy little family-to-be. I’m not sure what to make of it. He mostly seems like the old Nico. I’m constantly waiting for him to backslide into the gross, violent man I’ve seen, but he keeps surprising me. He doesn’t need me to pretend to be happy; he’s still twisted enough that he gets off on my misery. Payback for me leaving him those years ago. I don’t think he’ll ever forgive me for that, but he dotes on me and seems to be under the illusion that I want to be here. Or maybe he’s playing me just as I’m playing him. I don’t know which way is up anymore. The times I’m cold only add fuel to his fire—he blames it on my hormones.