Previously known as 'On Her Knees'.
Valentina was supposed to be another stripper and Lorenzo the same cold-hearted don who couldn't feel.
What happens when Bad meets Evil...
.. and Damaged meets broken
Worlds collide.
Lust and feelings get in the w...
Trigger warning ⚠️ Some may find that this chapter contains upsetting or disturbing language & events that take place.
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I trembled as hegrabbed me from my waist and painfully threw me onto a rusty chair that was placed right before the stage.
My body throbbed from the pain, but I had to prepare myself for the worst.
He turned, rummaging through a bag but I saw that as my only chance.
I shot up darting for the door, pulling it towards me ignoring his yells and footsteps that got louder as he got closer.
Thin arms clasped around my waist tightly, making me grunt in pain from the brutality.
Crying out for help wouldn't get me anywhere, especially with Scott.
He loved it when I would scream for help, knowing no one would.
As he knew now. I was alone. I had nowhere to run. No one to fight for.
So I did the only thing a scared, restricted woman could do. I kicked him in the balls. do I regret it, Absolutely not. But how his smirk just got deeper, maybe I should've just punched him in the face or something.
I back away slowly, his dry chuckles echoing through the hall.
"I've got to say, Valentina, you're dumber than I originally thought.
You've always been weak. Pathetic.
What did you think because you live under the wing of the infamous Lorenzo Rossi, that I forgot about you?
You're finally going to get what was always coming to you.." His words echoed through my head. I won't not let him win. Not today, not ever.
I repeat the words over and over, forcing the tears back down as I hid the fear painted on my face as my motionless, dead eyes that held nothing met his malicious ones.
It made him furious, seeing that his words didn't affect me- well that was what I was hoping he saw.
He roughly threw me onto the rustic chair once again making me wince loudly from the impact of the fall.
"Hey, you dickhead did you have to drop me that hard? A simple 'sit down' would have sufficed." I mutter, gulping down the fear clawing at me as I rubbed my arm
If I'm going to die, I want to go out in style.
Scott grinned as he circled the chair slowly, tying both my hands and feet to the chair with rope - very tight.
That tight my hands were burning from the friction of the thread against my skin. He looked me up and down as he did so completely ignoring my eruption.
"Hey father, oh wait you don't like me calling you that- what about daddy? I bet that makes your little shrimp shoot up no? You dick sucking creep is that what you want?"
