05 - Camilla Coppola
Camilla Coppola
The bastard starts touching me, and I feel the urge to vomit from his more daring touch. My anger towards my father only grows as I realize he left me so vulnerable with a man he knows I despise.
“We can get to know each other better, what do you think? Since we’ll be married in a few weeks!” His hand moves down, beginning to pull my dress up as he touches the inner part of my thigh.
With his invasion, I freeze my body, frightened enough to only open my eyes and wait to see what he had in mind. I keep my eyes fixed on the man who made his desire for me even more explicit.
But the memory of my mother comes to mind…
“We are Coppola's, and we never, ever set aside our will or desire. Always place your desires and wants above anyone else. Never forget that!”
I take a deep breath and remove his hand from my body, not caring about what this Russian will think or say to my father.
“You must be confusing me with one of the whores you sleep with in some brothel!” I exclaim, chin held high.
I see his posture change, going from anger to the air of a man who has just accepted a challenge.
“I’d love to shatter your arrogance into so many pieces that it will be impossible to tell what it was…” He says, moving closer to me. “Remember, I’m Oleg Volkov, and if I want to screw you before the wedding, I’ll do it even on your idiot father’s dining table.”
At that moment, I realize how completely screwed and endangered I am with this bastard so close to me. But I don’t let him see how frightened I am or how much his words have affected me.
“The day you touch me like that, you can be sure we’ll meet in hell because I’ll kill you…” I smile bravely.
I try to move closer to the door and am startled when he approaches and grabs me by the neck, squeezing his large hand around my slender throat. I keep my head up, not panicking, maintaining our eye contact even as his fingers tighten around my throat, knowing his actions will leave a mark that will look pretty bad tomorrow.
I grip the seatbelt tightly, trying to control the urge to fight against this man who, if he presses a bit more, I’m sure will break my neck. Even knowing he wouldn’t kill me here, much less today, if he doesn’t want to be killed by the groom’s parents.
“Rest assured, I’ll teach you to lower that gaze when you’re with me…” He says, bringing his face closer to mine. “I’ll screw you, and if I get too pissed off with you, I’ll let the men closest to me fuck you too.”
The hatred I feel for this Russian only intensifies as I try to free my neck from his hand and feel him squeeze even tighter. Making it hard for me to breathe, and causing tears to start streaming down my face. I didn't want to show weakness in front of this bastard, but it was unbearable.
I end up raising my hand, trying to make him let go.
“You’ll belong to me soon…” He says, his lips brushing against mine.
And unlike the way I was kissed a moment ago, I feel a desperate desire to get out of the car and escape from this man who insists on touching me without my permission. Tears continue to fall down my face, humiliating me even more than this man who forces his proximity to my body.
“Your tears will be your only company in a few weeks, and I’ll love making you swallow them along with my cock!” My disgust is so evident that he finally pulls away.
Finally, the car stops, and I can see through the mirror that the driver was watching me with lust, making me believe that what he said was true. This son of a bitch is going to share me with his soldiers.
I swallow my anger as I feel his hand lose its weight on my exposed neck, and a kind smile appears. I see him assuming his façade of a good man, the same one who, just before getting into the car, managed to convey a serenity that is nothing more than a facade.
“Smile, darling, we’re at a party!” He says before getting out of the car.
I still feel the driver’s eyes on my body, and I hurry to get out of the car, reluctantly offering my hand to this bastard, who soon placed me by his side and guided me towards the party hall.
As my thoughts scramble to find a way to escape everything that just happened, I see the Bishop entering and going in a different direction from where the party was taking place. I started to move away from Oleg, who was having an animated conversation with Apollo Spanos about the BDSM houses he’s been opening and gaining many followers.
I feel victorious when I hear.
“Stay quiet…” The Bishop grabs my thigh and lifts me onto his waist.
It’s inevitable to let out a moan of pleasure, and I remember there must be marks on my neck where that monster touched and hurt me. I let the kisses we exchange become everything I need to forget what happened in that car.
The Bishop’s hands roam my body as if he knows exactly where to touch me to ignite me like a fire of desire and pleasure.
I want to beg him to use that space and make me forget what happened with that damned Russian. But I stay silent; the Bishop is right, what I’m asking for is enough for him to be killed, and if I’m not thrown into some brothel, losing my last name, I’ll be dead.
My desperation is so great that I can’t leave my hiding spot and end up sitting on the floor, hugging my legs, trying to comfort myself for feeling so alone at that moment. I want my mother back or simply wish that life would be taken from me once and for all, so I wouldn’t face the fate being prepared for me.
I watch him leave the room, and I feel the weight of everything that has been oppressing me. I stayed there so long that I begin to hear my name being called from the corridor. Suddenly, the door is opened, and my sister enters with her fiancé. I see the worried look in both of their eyes as she crouches down to talk to me.
“What happened?” She asks, wiping another tear from my face.
“He threatened me in the car. He said that if I kept this up, he’d give me to his men and… and…” My sobs become choked.
“Come on, I’ll take you to the hotel, and then I’ll return to the party!” My sister says, and I see her fiancé looking at me with pity.
We leave the party, and I’m escorted to the car under the constant watch of all my father’s men and even Oleg’s soldiers. I can feel his eyes on my body and the certainty that there will be consequences for what just happened.
The drive to our hotel is in complete silence. I know I’ll soon be alone and that the soldiers will have to return to the party to maintain security for my father and sister, since the hotel is the second safest place after the party hall.
“Take a shower and order room service. I’ll try to keep Father at the party as long as I can so you won’t have to deal with him today after he’s had enough to drink!” Letícia says, and she leaves the room, leaving me alone.
I sit on the bed long enough to watch the day change, the spring sun becoming less intense and the evening light starting to turn my room into orange hues. I decide on a shower, hoping it will prevent the bruises on my neck from getting worse.
I take a quick shower, knowing that room service will be arriving soon with my dinner. Hearing a soft knock on the door, I exit the bath wrapped in a robe and walk to the door to let the person in.
To my surprise, there was a man in a black hoodie, the hood up, with a penetrating gaze. I can feel, even from a meter away, the tension emanating from the Bishop, who saw the tear roll down my cheek.
He enters and pulls me into his arms. I hear the door being closed and locked as I cry heavily, clinging to his coat.
“Shhh, now tell me what happened. I only heard some snippets of conversation!” He says as he picks me up and carries me to the bed.
“You’re here? Why didn’t you come in? I gave you the key…” His smile still looks concerned.
“Because it’s impolite for a man to enter a young woman’s room. I thought it was more prudent for you to receive me, especially after you left the party so quickly!” He says, sitting beside me on the bed.
“He’s going to kill me!” That’s all I manage to say before I start crying again, letting out everything I’ve been feeling.