Burned Dreams (Perfectly Imperfect #7)

Uneven steps drawing nearer. A thump, followed by a curse. I grab the bedcover and pull it up to my chin. The knob turns, and the light from the hallway falls inside my room.

“I’m home, bellissima,” Rocco’s slurred words hang in the air.

He’s drunk. I make myself stay still, hoping he’ll go away if he thinks I’m asleep.

“You know, I was thinking. Those pills must have been out of date,” he says approaching the bed. “So, I got myself a new batch.”

No. No. No.

“Let’s see if these work better.” He grabs at the bedcover and rips it off me.

I will myself to turn and look. Rocco is standing at the foot of the bed, wearing only an unbuttoned white shirt, a wine stain on its front.

“Spread your legs for your husband.”

I stare at him as panic rises and spreads through every nerve of my body. He climbs on the bed and crawls up, looming over me. His hand shoots out, tearing open my pajama top, then grabs at the band of my shorts and pulls them down along with my panties.

“I’m getting hard,” he mumbles, then grips my hand and presses it on his still semi-limp dick. “See? Everything is working as it should.”

He laughs like a maniac, then drops down onto my body. The smell of alcohol and sweat invade my nostrils.

“Wider!” he snaps.

I spread my legs slightly, and he starts grinding his penis at my opening. Clenching my teeth, I force myself to remain motionless and impassive. The sounds that leave Rocco’s mouth remind me of an animal in pain. Wheezing. Short breaths. Moans, as he presses himself to me, brushing his dick on my pussy. Then he stops suddenly and groans. A moment later I feel his cum, warm and sticky, between my legs.

“That was good, bellissima,” he says between labored breaths. “It’ll be even better next time.”

I lie unmoving as he climbs down and heads toward the door. Only when I hear the one across the hallway close, do I spring from the bed and run into the bathroom.

It takes me twenty minutes to scrub myself until I feel somewhat clean again. Rocco doesn’t force himself on me often, and since I started switching his Viagra with the placebo Melania has been providing, it happens even less frequently. At least he left the new bottle of pills on my nightstand. It means I can make the switch again. Rocco gets mad when he can’t get an erection. He’s never got hard enough to actually penetrate me, but I feel disgusted by the mere grinding of him against me. I’d rather face his wrath and blows than have him do that.

I sit on the wooden bench under the window with my forehead pressed to the glass. There’s no way I’m going back to bed before I change the sheets, and that needs to wait till tomorrow. I can’t risk going downstairs and running into Rocco again tonight. Thinking about what just happened still makes me want to puke.

It’s nearly four in the morning, but I can’t sleep. Wrapping a blanket tighter around me, I close my eyes, only to open them again a minute later.

I need to find a way to get more money. The amount I collect from the clothes my mom sells to Mrs. Natello is a lot, but not enough. And I have to be careful so Rocco won’t suspect anything. I make sure to buy an array of clothes in every shop, but only one item out of the bunch for my mom to resell. That way, if Rocco asks to see what I’ve purchased, I have something to show him. But it’s too slow-going.

The stuff I bought this month was worth eighteen grand, but Mrs. Natello only paid nine, saying she won’t spend more than 50 percent for secondhand garments, even though they all still had price tags attached. So, I’ve decided to give Mom some of my jewelry to sell. Hopefully, Rocco won’t notice. Maybe I could implore Hazel to let me help her with accounting twice a week. The money she pays me isn’t much, but every penny counts.

As I vacantly stare at the lawn, still lost deep in my thoughts, a shadow moving behind a tree attracts my attention. The security guards are not allowed this close to the house. Could it be an animal? I lean forward, pressing my nose to the cold glass pane, but nothing seems out of the ordinary. My tired brain is probably playing tricks on me.

I must have started to doze off when a loud bang startles me. I scan the grounds and the garden beyond my window, and something orange at the top of the garage catches my eye. Another bang ensues, then a few more. I scream as the roof of the garage caves in. Stunned and unable to move, I watch as the flames consume the building, and its ruined frame gets swallowed up by the raging inferno and the billow of smoke.

Chapter 8

“I don’t fucking care that the cars were insured!” Rocco roars into the phone. “It’s been three days. I want the person who worked on the electrics in my garage found and dealt with!”

He cuts the line and slams his phone on the desk’s surface.

“It took me six months to acquire one of those cars,” he barks. “Now, they are all gone. Because of some idiot who didn’t do his job properly. How the fuck does a fucking electric panel catch fire all of a sudden?”

Yeah. Such a shame.

“I need you to take Ravenna to the hairdresser,” he continues. “She’ll visit her mother afterward, and you’ll get a few hours free. Then, I need you back here at eleven. Armed.”

“All right. Situation?” I ask.

“There’s a shipment of drugs being handed over tonight, and we’re a few men short to deal with it. Some of the guys who are supposed to work this job got pulled away by Arturo. He’s essentially gone off the deep end, been driving around town for weeks now, searching for his missing sister. I need you to fill in.”