They Are The Monsters.
They Are The Princes.
. . .
Leyla Campbell, daughter of a corrupted politician, never expected her father to give her to them - two of the deadliest men in the world, for the sake of his reputation.
They don't seem safe.
T...
How privileged you are, to be passionately clinging to what you love; the forfeit of hope has not destroyed you.
- Louise Glück
. . .
Leyla
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The dinner was...painful to go through. I forced the food down my throat after it was served by an army of staff. Giovanni and Fabiano talked to the other men in Italian. Their language sounded pretty from their lips.
I wish I could understand what they were saying and not sit on Giovanni's lap like an idiot. His lap was muscular, hard but surprisingly not uncomfortable.
When dessert arrived, I just eyed it.
Cannoli. I freaking loved them.
I kept my hands down though, staring at them instead of the delicious thing right in front of me.
Others ate. I kept glaring at my hands. You can eat it.
No, I couldn't.
He's not here to stop you. He's miles away.
I blinked rapidly, taking a deep breath.
"Eat." Fabiano's stern order broke through my thoughts.
I ate automatically. It was delicious. Giovanni wordlessly got me more as soon as I finished. I ate it too and shook my head when he asked if I wanted more. I was eating like a pig in front of almost a dozen men.
Fabiano said something in Italian and everyone left till it was just me and them.
Maids came and picked the plates up and then they, too, were gone.
Giovanni picked me up and sat me on the table, my legs dangling between them.
I was face to face with them at this level.
"The rules are simple," Giovanni said, tugging at the stick which held my bun. He pulled it out, throwing away the stick. "And they are not going to change," he said firmly, twirling a curl around his finger. "No matter how much you cry."
I nodded, whispering an 'okay', wanting them to just let me go back to the pretty cell they had for me.
Fabiano opened his mouth to say something but his eyes fell on something behind me.
I turned. There stood two women. Beautiful and with collars around their neck. Valentino was written on their collard and their beautiful curvy bodies were covered with skin-tight dresses. One was blond and the other redhead - both looked beautiful.
"Go to your room, Leyla," Giovanni said as he stood up and walked to the blond, Fabiano walked to the redhead.
Fabiano looked at me when I didn't move. "Obey," he ordered.
I got off the table and rushed out of the kitchen, my heart beating furiously.
They were going to have sex with them.
This could mean that they weren't interested in me that way. But why'd they buy me if they didn't want to have sex with me?
It didn't make sense.
. . .
When I walked down the staircase the next day, the two women were still there. Both of them were kneeling beside Fabiano and Giovanni who were talking amongst themselves but stopped when their eyes fell on me.
"Breakfast is in the kitchen," Giovanni said. "You better eat all of it, Piccolina."
I muttered out an 'okay' and walked to the kitchen. I had barely slept because of the constant screams of pleasure that broke through the air all night.
A maid put a plate with too many pancakes in front of me as soon as I sat at the island.
"I won't be able to eat all of this," I said to her. She ignored me, as did everyone else in the kitchen.
There was no one here to even talk to.
I blinked back the tears and forced myself to eat all that was on the plate, fearing what they'd do if I didn't eat all of it. When I was done, another maid picked up the plate, wiped the island clean, and went back to work. Soon enough, I was alone in the kitchen.
I put my arms on the cold island and set my head on them, staring at the shiny kitchen. It was pretty.
Everything here was pretty, but nothing was nice.
I felt the urge to call Gabriella but squashed it down. Maybe if I didn't talk to them much, they'd forget I was here. This mansion was big enough to get lost in.
I had wished for that for so long - to get lost. So lost that no one would be able to find me. I'd travel the world and write poetry that would one day, after I die, be published. I wanted a life of anonymity, a life no one knew anything about. I wanted open roads and deep conversations with nice strangers...
But here I was - stuck in a beautiful mansion with two men. Unable to talk to my family or friends, unable to leave the mansion, unable to even decide how much I wanted to eat.
Tears again burned in my eyes. I let them fall.
After I was done crying, I got off the stool and drank some water, feeling hesitant to even do that. I felt like if I touched something here I'd ruin it.
I walked out of the kitchen with soft footsteps, not wanting anyone to pay any mind to me. There were now more men in the living room and more women. All of the women were naked.
