Sasha & Andriena #1 (Lovers & Sinners) (3 page)

She continued, “You
should thank me, not make me feel bad, especially since I only did it to help
you. And I don’t take advantage of men, they take advantage of me.”

“Don’t assume you’re
the only one who’s been taken advantage of.”

“I would rather have
been beaten up than raped!”

Sasha didn’t react, what
she’d said not a surprise. “I’d rather no one got hurt, but I don’t have a say,
because if I did, the Black Russian would be dead and his slaves freed.”

She exhaled shakily,
giving him a curt nod in agreement. An awkward silence followed, making Sasha
wish he’d been put in a cell by himself.

The Donatelli woman started
fidgeting, the silence no doubt unnerving her too. “How about I just pour the
water over your hands?” She walked over to the table and picked up the bottle,
hesitating for a moment, giving him the impression she was reconsidering going near
him. But instead of backtracking, she took the final steps.

She opened the
bottle, swearing in Italian as she dropped the cap, her hands shaking badly.
She swept it up, muttering, “Hold your hands out.” Once he’d extended them, she
poured water over his palms, swearing again as she tipped too much, her shaking
having caused it.

He grabbed the towel
off the table. “There’s no need to get upset, it’s just water,” he said, wiping
his hands.

“You don’t understand,”
she replied, looking distressed. “This is the first bottle they’ve given me. I
shouldn’t have wasted it on washing your hands. It was stupid of me.”

“It’s not important,
you’ll still get milk.”

“How do you know I
get milk?”

“I worked in this
part of the prison when I was a new guard.”

She grimaced. “I
forgot you used to be a robot.”

“A robot?”

“It’s what I call the
guards. They look too perfect and have no feelings.”

He frowned at her,
not appreciating her words. “They have feelings; they just learn to hide them
well, because succumbing to emotions can get you hurt in here,” he said,
knowing from personal experience.

She went quiet for a
moment, looking like she was thinking. “Did you treat people as badly as they
treat me?” she finally asked.

“I did my job.”

“I’m
not
a
job!” Her hand shot to her head, her shout probably having hurt it.

“You should keep your
voice down,” he warned. “Otherwise you might be muzzled.”

She dropped her hand,
her expression shocked. “Did you say
muzzled
?”

He nodded. “Slaves in
this part of the prison get muzzled if they talk too loudly. Actually, they’re
not supposed to talk at all. Only animal sounds are permitted.”

“Is that why I often
hear howling?”

He nodded.

“That’s horrible,”
she gasped. “They have no right to treat people that way.”

Anger bubbled up
inside of him, her words the trigger, but instead of shouting like she had, he
pinned her with a glare. “Then, why does your family have slaves if you think
this is so wrong?”

She blanched. “That’s
got nothing to do with me.”

“Did you used to live
in the Donatelli compound?”

“
Sì
, I mean yes.”

“Then, you would’ve
lived off the money that your family reaped from their sex slaves.”

“It wasn’t like that,”
she said, appearing flustered.

“I bet it was.”

She shook her head. “You
don’t understand. The women in my
famiglia
don’t have a say when it
comes business. My youngest sister tried to get my father to shut down the
House of Whores, but he laughed her out of the room. We’re treated like second
class citizens.”

“Was your father the
last Don?”

“No, that was my
uncle, the one who sold me.” Her expression saddened. “My father was the Don
before him.”

Sasha grimaced,
knowing
exactly
who her father was. “I’m glad that fucking bastard is
dead.”

Her eyes widened.
“Watch what you say about him!”

“I’ll say whatever
the hell I like about that monster.”

“People who live in
glasshouses shouldn’t throw stones,” she shot back.

“What are you talking
about?” he asked, his understanding of English limited.

“It means you
shouldn’t judge others if you’ve done similar things.”

He glared at her. “I’ve
never raped a person in my life, so don’t you fucking dare say I’m like him.”

“My father didn’t
rape anyone!”

“He ordered the
capture of people
to
be raped. Do you think those people in your family
whorehouse were there of their own volition? No!” he snapped, not giving her
enough time to answer, the woman infuriatingly ignorant. “They were kidnapped
and forced into prostituting themselves for
your
family’s benefit. And
if they didn’t do what they were told, they were tortured.”

She stared at him
with wide eyes, her expression shocked. “How do you know this?”

He breathed out,
attempting to get himself under control. “I was captured by your family when
they overthrew the D’Angelo house. I saw things I wish I could scrub from my
mind, including what went on in the House of Whores. Your family are a bunch of
savages, vile creatures who should be wiped from the planet.” He lowered his
voice. “And if I ever escape here, I’ll be the one who does it.”

She took a step back,
looking fearful again.

“I won’t kill you,”
he said, thinking the only crime she was guilty of was ignorance. “I’ll only go
after the ones who perpetuated the crimes, not blind fools who lived off the
gains.”

Her jaw clenched. “Again,
it wasn’t like you’re making it out to be, plus the people who would’ve been
responsible are probably all dead. The D’Angelos fought back, destroying my
famiglia
.”

“
Good
.” He
smiled, the expression far from friendly. “And I hope they suffered.”

Her upset gaze shot
to the guard behind the window. “Take him away! He’s better now.”

“Don’t talk to him,”
Sasha said. “He’ll either punish or ignore you. Like I said, you’re not human
to him, you’re a job. The younger guards are no better than dogs, wanting the
approval of their master.”

Her gaze snapped back
to him. “The Black Russian treats them like dogs?”

“I was obviously
speaking metaphorically.”

“Don’t talk to me
like I’m stupid. I was basically treated like a dog, told to eat and drink like
one. They also made me crawl on my hands and knees. So, it’s not so farfetched
that the guards could be treated in a similar manner.”

“They weren’t treating
you like a dog; they would’ve been treating you like a sheep.”

“How would you know
that?”

“You don’t have much
of a memory. I already confirmed I used to be a guard.”

“But why would the
Black Russian pay millions of dollars for me, then lock me away, treating me
like a sheep? It’s illogical.”

“Not really. He does
it to the people he thinks he’s wasted his money on. It’s both a punishment and
a means to recoup some of his losses, since butchers tend to pay a lot for a
meal.”

She jerked her head
back as though he’d slapped her. “What do you mean by
a meal
?”

“You’ve been put into
what’s called an animal cell. Prior to my arrival, did you have a bed and
table? Were you made to sleep on the floor? Were you given sheep pellets to
eat?”

She shook her head at
the first question, then nodded at the rest, her face dropping at each word.
“How do you know that?”

“For fuck’s sake, how
many times do I have to tell you I was a guard?” he snapped, the woman
obviously of limited intelligence.

“I have a memory
problem, so don’t patronize me. And you didn’t answer me about the word
meal
.”

“It’s no longer relevant.
The Black Russian has obviously changed his mind, otherwise you wouldn’t be
wearing underwear and given a bed, but then again, maybe that’s for my benefit,
not yours.”

“Just tell me!”

“People who are put
in animal cells are mostly sold to what we call butchers, or in civilian terms:
cannibals.”

“What?”

“The Black Russian
has a wide clientele, some having unusual tastes—
literally
. And because you
were treated like a sheep, it looks like he was going to sell you to be eaten.”

Her eyes went even
bigger, looking like they were going to swallow her whole face. Her head
snapped to the guard behind the glass. “You can’t do that to me!” she screamed
at him. “I’m important. I’m from a mafia
famiglia!
My sister will kill you
for it—”

“Stop panicking,”
Sasha cut her off, regretting telling her. “You’re wearing lingerie, so it’s
obviously not going to happen now.”

Her attention snapped
back to him. “You said I was going to be killed and eaten. How do you expect me
to act?”

“You wouldn’t have
been killed first, you would’ve been eaten alive.”

She stared at him as
though he was a monster.

“Don’t look at me
like that, I find it just as sickening as you do.”

“It doesn’t sound
like it. You said it without an ounce of inflection, and don’t give me that
bullshit about hiding your emotions, because no one can say those things
without even a flicker of humanity. It’s like you’re dead inside.”

He grimaced at her,
thinking she was partially right. Ever since he’d been sold, people had been
chipping away at his soul, weakening it with torture, abuse, heartache, until
he no longer knew himself. The happy boy he’d once been was long gone, replaced
by a killer who had either no emotion or too much of it—which the irritating
bitch would find out if she kept pushing him.

“You don’t want to
see me get emotional,” he snarled, “because I fucking lose it,
cyka
. So,
keep your shit opinions to yourself.”

Anger flashed across
her face. Her back straightened with almost a snap, reminding him of a sergeant
major, or a fucking Donatelli that probably wanted him to kiss her feet. “Did
you just call me a bitch?” she spat, sounding like she already knew the answer.

“You bet I did.” He
gave her a malicious smile, now purposely antagonizing her, so he had an excuse
to teach her a lesson. And he would teach her a lesson, one she wouldn’t forget
so easily.

Her face hardened. “Then,
you’re a
bastardo
. Since you woke up, you’ve been nothing but nasty to
me.”

He sneered at her. “That
wasn’t nasty—but
this
is.” He shot over the bed and charged at her,
making her scream and stumble back. He pushed her up against the window, grabbing
her wrists as she went to hit him. He twisted them behind her back, making her
scream louder. He leaned his face down to hers, instantly silencing her with a
snarl. “Keep pushing me,
cyka
, and I’ll show you just how
nasty
I
can get.”

She didn’t reply,
only her labored breathing reaching his ears. She was also shaking, her
expression petrified.

“Pathetic,” he
muttered, disgusted with how weak she was. He was used to strong, vicious women
like the Viper assassins, not this whimpering damsel in distress bullshit. It
just irritated him even more. Though, his fucking cock didn’t seem to agree
with him, because it was still standing at attention. His eyes lowered to her
quivering lips, wondering what it would feel like for her to suck on his cock.
It twitched, keen on finding out. But instead of acting on his fucked-up
arousal, he pushed away from her and stalked back to the bed, cursing the Black
Russian for putting him in with the airhead.

“Just stay away from
me,” she quavered, her voice barely audible, almost as though she didn’t want
him to hear.

He lay down on the
bed, again thinking she was pathetic. He almost felt like punching his cock for
having reacted to her, brainless not his type. “I’m already away from you, you
stupid woman,” he muttered.

“And you’re a—” She bit
her bottom lip, her outburst cut short by his sneer. Sasha knew she was going
to retort that he was stupid too, but for once she’d used her birdbrain.

A biting Russian order
crackled over the speaker, drawing Sasha’s attention away from her. The previous
guard had left, the Black Russian’s number one taking his place. The man was
standing behind the viewing-window, doing his usual impression of a statue.
Unlike his predecessor, Nikita wasn’t wearing a hat, the Black Russian preferring
his hair uncovered. It was long and white, like his skin—Nikita an albino. He
looked like a surreal angel—neither male nor female, his fine features and pale
purple eyes adding to his angelic appearance. But Sasha knew Nikita was
anything but angelic.

“Last warning,
Andriena,” Nikita said. “Go to the door.”