Beauty and the Dark Page 9

  “Same to you,” she says. With a grin she takes the first piece, dips it in the sauce and delicately bites into it, and what do you know, my cock goes rock hard. This is new for me. I’ve never reacted this way to anyone before. Shit. Shifting in my seat I watch her open the burger next and take it in her hands.

  “Aren’t you going to eat?” she asks me.

  I take a bite of my burger. For plastic it tastes quite good.

  She dips a French fry into ketchup and slips it into her mouth. Then she breaks the straw out of its packaging and sticks it into the milkshake. She sucks at the straw. Here we go again. I watch her lush lips release the straw, her tongue come up and lick her lips. Like a woman on a mission she opens the ice cream and dips her plastic spoon into it. She licks the spoon. Fuck, this is the meal from hell. I’m so desperately hard I’m going to need to go and relieve myself in the toilet.

  She sighs contentedly. “I’m done,” she says.

  I raise my eyebrows. “What? You’ve only had a taste of everything you’ve ordered.”

  “Well, after you said what you did about McDonalds I went and did some research and you’re absolutely right.”

  I lean back, surprised and amused.

  “See this bun here. You’ll never believe the long list of chemicals that are in it. It’s actually painted with mold inhibitors. Not only have I eaten preservatives, dextrose, sodium phosphate, but also a variety of ingredients used for making flame retardant material, yoga mats, safety matches and contact explosives.”

  She never stops surprising me. “So why did you want to come in here?”

  She shrugs. “I wanted to know what I was missing and now I do.”

  “Did you like it?”

  “Well, I didn’t hate it, but I prefer your friend’s burger.” She reaches out her hand and touches my arm and I burn. “Thank you for bringing me here. I really appreciate it. Now can we go somewhere else, please?”

  I laugh. Standing, I pull her up and grab her by the hips so she is pulled close to me. She gasps and looks up at me. She is too thin. I feel the tiny bones push into my body. Otherwise she’s goddamn perfect. I want to take her back to my place, tangle my body with hers, and fuck until my cum drips from her fucked pussy.

  “Fuckin’ get a room,” one of the kids shouts.

  Don’t worry kid that’s not how I’m gonna play this. I’m going to take it easy with her. I rub my thumb against her cheek. “Let’s go get some proper food.”

  We end up in an Italian joint. It’s really old fashioned with burnt sienna and yellow walls and bottles of Frascati and ham hanging from the rafters. I know the owner. Salvatore is jolly and round. Sometimes he takes his guitar out and sings corny old Italian songs. He’s not very good, but his customers don’t mind. There’s something sweet about his singing. While he is singing you can pretend you have gone back in time. You are sitting in a trattoria in Italy.

  We sit sipping Salvatore’s best Gavi de Gavi while we wait for our spaghetti vongole. Today’s special.

  “So you grew up in Russia?”

  Almost instantly I feel her shrink. “Yes, we grew up in Russia,” she says woodenly.

  I change the subject. From then on we stay away from the past. I ask her about her taste in music. Oh dear, she likes classical. She asks me for mine. I tell her I like techno. She loves chocolate ice cream. I don’t. She doesn’t like curry and I could live on it. She likes River Dance and I think they look like puppets jerking around. She likes mountains. I like beaches. I love watching a good boxing match, she cannot bear any kind of sport that involves violence.

  Our clam spaghetti arrives. We dig in. I ask her to tell me the person she would most want to have dinner with.

  “Dead or alive?” she asks.

  “Either.”

  She names Princess Diana.

  “Why?”

  “I’d like to ask her what really happened that night.”

  “Don’t you believe the official story then?”

  She drops her voice to a whisper. “No.”

  I hide a smile. My date is a secret conspiracy theorist.

  She asks me the same question. I don’t need to think about this one.

  “You,” I say, and I really mean it too. I’d like to have dinner with her and find out the great secret she is hiding. Why she thinks she is so unloveable.

  “Me?” she asks.

  “Yeah, you.”

  We stare at each other. Her eyes look gold. Some great hurt shines in them. Then the waiter comes to refill our glasses and it is gone.

  I ask for her favorite color.

  “Blue,” she says, a smile coming back to her eyes. “You?”

  I smile. “Blue.”

  “Oh my God. I can’t believe it. We finally found something we agree about.”

  Salvatore starts singing. Her eyes become misty. We have dessert. Creamy tiramisu. I watch her eat it and feel my gut tighten. This is my girl. I’m never stopping until I make her mine. For life. We order coffee. Salvatore brings flaming Sambucas with them. We blow out the flames and down them. She laughs. There is color in her cheeks and her eyes are shining.

  “More coffee?” I ask, my hands hungry to roam her flesh.

  She nods happily.

  As we leave she stumbles against me. I grab her slim waist and steady her. She looks up at me.

  “Thank you. This has been the best night of my life,” she whispers.

  Twenty-two

  Sofia

  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z7oPHkqzPqA

  I so very nearly ask Jack to come up. Well, it will be an outright lie to say anything else as there is no time during our date that my body does not clamor for his.

  When he pulls me into his arms outside the lift and kisses me with desperate hunger, it is like being pulled into quicksand. It takes all of my willpower to break the kiss and press the button for my floor.

  As the lift door closes on him, my skin, flesh, bones, blood, and sinew all scream for him. But another part of me … a frozen part … the part that holds together the rickety structure of sanity … the one that never once got merry with alcohol, or drunk with sexual desire, says, don’t spoil the best night of your life.

  Let the magic be ruined another day.

  Let this night be special.

  I ride the lift up to the apartment alone and put my key in the door. It is strange and empty without Lena, Guy and Irina, but I don’t mind. I’m floating on a delicious cloud. I dance into the room, switch on lights, and put on music, Beethoven’s Fifth. Humming and pretending to play an invisible violin to the lively music, I make my way into the bathroom. I finish my toilette, change into my long cotton nightgown, and fall dreamily into bed.

  Am I falling in love?

  Something that would have been impossible only a short while ago. I stare at the ceiling, confused. That word that I read about in books and only happened to other people. I’ve known only pain. And yet, it must be. What else could be so perfect, so wonderful, so amazing? I fall asleep on that lovely cloud.

  The doorbell jerks me out of a deep and dreamless sleep. I freeze with fear, my eyes swiveling to the luminous face of my alarm clock. It is nearly twelve o’clock. I squeeze my eyes shut. Don’t panic. No one but Jack and my family know I’m here. Obviously it’s just a mistake by someone, or it could be someone drunk ringing the wrong bell. They will go away. There is nothing to fear.

  The doorbell goes again. This time more insistent.

  I bite my thumbnail nervously. What if it is a woman who has lost her keys and just needs to be let in out of the cold? I hesitate another few seconds and the bell goes again.

  This time I get out of bed and quickly walk to the hallway. If it’s a stranded woman I’ll let her in. If it’s a man I’ll pretend there’s no one at this address. Without switching on any lights, I go to the intercom and turn on the video. For a couple of seconds, I think I must be hallucinating. Then my entire body tenses, not with fear, but with unadulterated exc
itement. Jack’s come for me. I press the answer buzzer.

  “What are you doing, Jack?” I ask, my voice strangely breathless.

  “Let me in,” he demands, swaying slightly.

  “Are you drunk?”

  “What do you think?” he asks.

  “I think, yes,” I say cautiously.

  His hair flops over his forehead and he sweeps it out of the way carelessly and claps his hands. “Bravo. Let me in so I can give you your prize,” he slurs.

  Even drunk he looks awesome. I want him to come up so bad my body aches, but how can I? There are so many reasons I shouldn’t. Not least my disfigured skin. My intolerably ugly scars. If he sees my back in the condition he is in, he won’t be able to hide his revulsion. Everything will fall apart.

  “I think you should go home, Jack,” I whisper.

  “I don’t want to go home, Sofia. Let me in. Please. Just this once.”

  Something inside me lurches painfully. “I can’t,” I cry.

  “We don’t have to do anything. I just want to talk.”

  My breath comes out in a gasp. “Talk?”

  “Yeah. You can make me a coffee and help me to sober up before I drive home.”

  I take a deep breath. I wouldn’t leave a dog out in this weather let alone Jack. “Promise?”

  “Scouts honor.”

  I press the buzzer and watch him push open the door. I switch on the light and quickly run to the mirror. I had pulled my hair into a braid at the side of my head before I went to bed. It looks messy. Strands hang on either side of my face. I quickly swipe them back and tuck them behind my ears. I rub my eyes to make them look more awake and pull together the front of my nightgown. I don’t want to encourage something I’m not ready for.

  I jump when I hear the knock on the door. Wow, he was fast.

  Too fast to have waited for the elevator. He must have run up the stairs. I twist the handle and take a step back.

  Oh my! Jack outside on the street is one thing. Jack looming in my hallway is completely another matter.

  Before I can say a word he takes a step forward and pulls me into his arms. Taken completely by surprise I tumble into his broad chest. Almost instantly I feel myself losing my composure, unraveling. His body is hard and unyielding. Oh sweet Jesus, this is exactly what I did not want to happen.

  “You said … talk … coffee,” I croak.

  “Fuck talking and coffee, Sofia. I came here for a taste of your sweet body.”

  The fumes of alcohol on his breath hit my nostrils, but it doesn’t put me off in the least. I want this man inside me. Where did this desire for a man come from? I’ve never wanted a man in my life, never even imagined I might want to, let alone this bad. He puts one big, warm man arm under my back and the other under my knees and lifts me up. So close to his neck I get a whiff of his cologne.

  “Tonight I’m going to ravish you. Make you mine,” he growls possessively into my ear.

  I feel his breath fan the top of my hair as he carries me down the hallway towards the only open door. My bedroom. He takes me inside and lays me on the bed. My heart is galloping in my chest.

  I look up at him as he towers over me. In dim light from the corridor his face is full of shadows, hard. I can’t tell his expression, but his eyes glitter hotly. My mind snaps this image as the precious moments before our love affair ends.

  I put off telling him the truth about me for so long because I didn’t want to see this searing lust die away, to be replaced by disgust. For the first time in my life I was enjoying the attention, the feeling of being wanted, desired. Tonight, in the next few minutes it will all come to an end.

  He reaches for me.

  “I need to tell you something first,” I say. My voice is oddly calm.

  “You can tell me after I’ve had you,” he says curling his hand around my ankle.

  “No,” I insist. “It’s important. I have to tell you this first. Then you decide if you still want to have me.”

  He releases my ankle, his eyes narrowing. “Go on. Spit it out.”

  I can already feel tears burning the backs of my eyes, but I harden my heart. I’ll tell him and he’ll run a mile, but it’ll be all right. I’ll survive this tragedy exactly the way I’ve survived everything else.

  Baby steps.

  It was fun while it lasted.

  Lifting my body off the bed, I scoot away from him on my hands and butt. When my back touches the headboard I wrap my arms around my body and start speaking. “When I was young my father sold me to a trafficking gang.”

  His jaw drops. Even in the darkness I can see his body go slack with shock. He blinks and stares at me in disbelief.

  “The gang sold me to a brothel owner in Brussels. For many years,” my voice breaks, but I clear my throat and carry on, “I lived with him and serviced his clients. Mostly politicians. You know, members of the European Parliament. They were away from their wives and they needed company.”

  Oh God, why am I babbling like a fool? I can’t believe I’m telling him about the men who came to abuse me. White-washing them. They needed company! I take a deep breath. Quick. Cut to the chase, Sofia.

  “Then a year ago Guy rescued me and brought me to live with him and Lena in Cheshire.” I exhale. “Christmas Eve last year was my first social outing.”

  He drops to his knees. Like an elephant felled by a hunter in a long range gun. Defeated by something he could never fight. Something he never saw coming. Up this close I see his eyes and they are full of horror. Dumbfounded horror.

  I force a smile. “So if you want to leave now, go ahead. I’ll totally understand.”

  At the sound of my voice he holds his head and shakes it as if to clear it, or as if he can’t process the information I have given him. I gaze at him silently.

  “Oh, fuck,” he roars suddenly, and his voice is so full of fury I jump. He turns his body to the side and violently slams his fist on the floor. He keeps on slamming it and a frisson of fear runs up my spine. He is going to hurt himself.

  “Stop,” I scream.

  As quick as lightning he scrambles up on the bed, grabs my leg, and pulls me towards him so my feet land on the ground and he ends up kneeling between my thighs. He grasps my upper arms. “And you were frightened to tell me this because you thought I would turn tail and run. What the fuck, Sofia?”

  My heart starts racing, not with fear, but with exhilaration and hope. I damp it down. There is worse to come.

  “I didn’t know what to think. It’s enough to make any man run,” I breathe.

  “Not this one,” he snarls.

  I take a shuddering breath. No point dragging it out. “There’s one more thing I have to show you.”

  He releases my arms. “Go on,” he grates.

  I take my gown off and turn around.

  “What the fuck is that?” I hear him ask incredulously.

  I whirl my head and face him. He looks like he is going to pass out or puke. I press my bunched up nightgown against my naked breasts.

  “He … branded me.”

  “With his name?” he asks, as if unable to believe what he is hearing.

  I nod slowly.

  He buries his face in his hands. “Oh. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. No matter where I go, I can’t. I just can’t fucking run away from the cruelty of human beings.” His voice is hoarse, suffering. I almost don’t recognize it.

  I reach out a hand towards his bent head. I don’t touch him. I just hover it inches away from his silky hair. His hands are clenched and his whole body is trembling with fury and incredible pain.

  I watch as his silent tears drip on the floor.

  My pain has become his, and he can’t take it. I feel a wave of love for the tortured man. He doesn’t deserve to suffer like this. I touch his head gently.

  And he looks up slowly as if he is seeing me for the first time.

  Twenty-three

  Sofia

  “It’s okay,” I whisper, wiping away his tears. “I know yo
u can’t stomach it. I understand. Like I said before. We’ll be friends. We’ll always be friends. You can go home and we’ll forget this ever happened. We’ll pretend this night never happened.”

  It seems forever that he gazes into my eyes. Then he sighs, the sound loud in the silence of my bedroom. “I don’t need to go home, Sofia. I’m in the right place,” he says.

  My mind goes blank with shock. “Are you sure?”

  “You’re it for me. Wherever you are is exactly where I’m meant to be.”

  I stare at him in astonishment. A thousand times I dreamed of this moment, but it was never this passionate, determined declaration. Never. Tears well up in my eyes.

  “Don’t, my sweet child. Don’t,” he croons.

  I blink hard. I don’t want to cry. I let go of all my fears. I don’t want him to think of me as a child. I want to be his woman. Strong, sexy, desirable.

  He sits on the floor and pulls me down onto his lap. I hold onto his shoulders and straddle his thighs. He pulls my hair tie, unbraids my hair, and fluffs it out so it halos my face.

  “Exactly how I thought you’d look. Beautiful. Just beautiful.” His face is flushed with desire. This is it. This is the moment I didn’t dare dream. Valdislav took too much from me, but he could never have my heart. That was always mine, but tonight I give it freely to this fine man.

  “I don’t have a condom,” I murmur.

  “I have, but I don’t want to use one with you.”

  My eyes widen. “Why?”

  “We’ll use it if you want to, but I want to fill you with my cum. I want to coat the outside and inside of your body with me. With my smells, my seed, my sweat, my blood if necessary. I want you to be my woman. I want to obliterate the memory of any other man. From today there will be no other for you but me.”

  “What if I get pregnant?”

  “Then we’ll find a name for our baby.”

  My eyes get big. “You want to have a baby with me?”

  He smiles. “I can’t think of better a mother than you.”

  I stare at him in amazement. For as long as I can remember all I ever wanted was my own little family, but after what happened to me I pushed the thought away as something impossible, and yet this … this is too good to be true. I’m not one of those lucky people who have good things happening to them all the time.