Her Mafia Brothers

Talking & Panicking

We sat there in silence, me panicking inwardly and Damon watching me from across Jack's desk. How could I tell him that being watched constantly terrified me? How could I tell him that it reminded me of him? He told me so many times that he had 'spies everywhere' and he knew everything I did, and there was no escape.

"No," I whispered. Then "no!" more loudly. More forcefully. "No, I don't need one. I don't want a bodyguard. I can't."

Damon was stern. I don't think he even tried to be understanding. I don't think the panic on my face registered with him at all. All he seemed to care about in that very moment was me following his orders, and agreeing to a bodyguard for my shopping spree.

"It's not an option Carrie," he said coldly. "We're Bogiatto's - security is necessary." Then he looked at me properly, perhaps seeing the fear on my face for the first time, and his tone softened. How did he do that? Go from gentle to scary in the blink of an eye?

"I know it's hard to get used to, but the reality is, who we are and what we do makes us targets. But it also gives us the money to lead the lifestyle we do. You will be happy here with us, Carrie. You will be able to have almost whatever you want." The look he gave me was almost sympathetic, and his voice was kind, but it wasn't enough to persuade me.

I pushed aside my fear and met his steady gaze. "Except freedom," I said.

"You will have freedom, your bodyguard will make sure of it. Without security, you'd have no freedom at all," he argued.

He really didn't get it, did he? He had no clue why I was being so stubborn on this, why I was so frightened of the thought of being trailed constantly by someone, even if it was under the guise of keeping me safe.

"Being trailed by a bodyguard isn't what I call freedom," I told him. Where was my bravery coming from? Why was I sitting here arguing with a man who terrified me most in the world? I had no clue. And worse, I didn't know how to stop it.

Damon's stare got harder. "If you don't cooperate with this, you won't be leaving these grounds," he informed me coldly.

"What?" I yelled, completely forgetting the no yelling rule.

"Lower your voice." Damon spoke sternly, with authority, but quietly.

"No, I will not lower my voice! You want to keep me a prisoner here!" I yelled at him, anger and terror overwhelming me in equal measure. I'd just been freed from one prison, now he wanted to put me in another one?

"You are not a prisoner."

"Well that's what it feels like if I can't go out!" I yelled again, reacting purely on my emotions. Rational thought had long fled.

Damon stood up, put his hands on the desk, and leant across it until his face was just inches from mine. I shrunk back in fear, but there was nowhere to go - the chair held me in place.

"You have been told to lower your voice. You know the rules about obedience and respect. Yelling, especially at me, is not tolerated here. Now you can either moderate your tone or you will find out what happens to naughty little girls who think the rules don't apply to them." He spoke quietly, his tone dangerously low. His stare was intimidating. His whole body oozed power, danger, threat. Just a few minutes ago, he'd promise I would be safe here. And now I was more terrified than I'd ever been with any of my mothers boyfriends.

I gulped, too scared even to breathe. Jack's words from earlier came back to me. A matter of life and death. I still didn't know what he meant by that, but it was easy to believe, as Damon glared at me across the desk, that he could seriously hurt me, or even kill me.

I sat frozen in terror. How had this gotten so out of hand?

I held my breath as Damon glared at me once more and then sat back down, not taking his eyes off me for even a second, the whole time.

"That was your last warning. If you ever raise your voice to me again, you will be punished," he growled, his voice a deep rumble, sending terror rushing through me.

I clenched my fists tightly, pressing them against the side of the chair, wrestling with my emotions, trying to stuff down my fear, but I couldn't. I tried to push it aside, to forget the way Damon's eyes had darkened and flashed, but I couldn't do it and tears welled up within me, threatening to burst out. I tried to breathe, but I couldn't suck enough air into my lungs and they burned, scaring me even more. I felt myself trembling, my hands shaking as I gripped the side of the chair. As well as being frightened, I was also frustrated, because I didn't know how to make him understand. I couldn't have a bodyguard, just the thought of it made me panic, but he wasn't even giving me the choice.

I tried to breathe normally, but all it did was make me hyperventilate. I was panicking again, even more than I had out on the patio earlier, but this time, instead of all of my brothers there, including Jack who I trusted the most, I was trapped in a room with Damon - my scariest brother and the reason for my panic.

"Carrie, breathe." His voice was deep and low, but it didn't help. And when he got to his feet, presumably to come and help me, I squeaked in fright, my hands flew to my face, and my breathing got worse. It felt like the walls were closing in on me. I just couldn't get enough air, no matter how hard I tried to drag it into my lungs.

"I'm not going to hurt you Carrie," he told me as he pushed his chair back, away from the desk, and took a step towards me. "You're safe, I promise you. I need you to breathe."

I was suffocating. My chest tightened as anxiety ripped through me.

"I ... I... c..." I tried to tell him I couldn't breathe, but I couldn't get the words out. I couldn't suck in enough breath to speak and I couldn't stop trembling.

Damon rounded the desk so fast I didn't even see him move and took me in his arms, pulling me to my feet, rubbing my back firmly, crooning soothing whispers.

"Breathe," he commanded softly. "Big deep, slow breaths. In. Out." He breathed with me to show me what to do and I did my best to copy him, inhaling when he did, blowing the breath out when he did, slowly calming down.

"Good girl," he praised me, still rubbing my back soothingly. "Are you okay now?"

"Yes sir," I whispered, still not entirely calm, but feeling much better than I was.

"Damon is fine," he reminded me. "You don't have to call me sir. Now do you want to tell me what scared you so much?"

You! I wanted to say. You terrified me! Except that was only partly true. Yes, he had scared me, especially when he had leaned over the desk so close to me, his demeanour so stern and intimidating. But right now, I felt safe in his protective embrace and I knew he wouldn't hurt me. Mostly, it was the thought of being tailed, of being spied on, so that's what I told him.

Damon shook his head and hugged me tighter, briefly, before letting me go, and returning to his seat.

"The security team is there to keep you safe, and nothing else. They're not spying on you and they won't be reporting back to me. I promise. Their role is to protect you and Nick. That's all."

I nodded my head, showing him that I understood. But inside, I was adamant: I was ditching the bodyguards the first chance I got.