I don’t go downstairs to breakfast. I don’t go for lunch either. I only make my way down when I’m too hungry to stay in my room.
I know Sebastian won’t send food up. I also know he’s right, that I have to face them sometime, but I’ll put it off as long as possible.
The evening is cool and I wrap a sweater around myself. I’m the last to arrive. By the time I get out to the patio, the family is gathered around the table, Lucinda and Ethan drinking martinis, and Gregory and Sebastian, whiskey.
Two places are set for dinner, one in front of Sebastian and the other, Gregory, and Lucinda and Ethan are dressed in fancy evening wear. Maybe it’s my lucky night and they’re going out.
Sebastian is either bored or irritated. I can see it on his face, in his posture. He sits opposite Lucinda, who has her back to me. He’s leaning in his chair, head resting against the back, looking daggers at her until he sees me.
He shifts his gaze to me. I still can’t read him, but I can’t look away either. He does something to me. It’s like when he’s in a room, it’s just him and me and every hair on my body stands on end. I don’t know. It’s like he steals the air out of my lungs.
I know the others feel this strange charge between us. They have to. And I can see from my periphery Ethan turning his head from me to Sebastian and back.
I told Sebastian that I hated him, and on some level, I do because he is my enemy. But I also know he is the one thing standing between me and the rest of them. I know they won’t touch me as long as I have his protection.
It’s not just that, though. I’m drawn to him. I want him. I want his hands on me. I want him inside me.
But the scariest part is that I want his arms around me when I sleep.
Lucinda slowly cranes her neck, and I clear my throat. The silence has become awkward.
“A drink?” I say.
Sebastian points to the long buffet table at the side where various drinks are laid out. I see a pitcher of martinis. I go to pour myself one, but a girl steps forward to do it for me. I watch her put three olives in a martini glass and pour the clear liquid. She hands it to me, and I sip. I feel it instantly, like the vodka is physically creeping down my shoulders.
I remember how Amy, the youngest of us, and I would sneak vodka when we could. Drink a little of it.
We started doing it the night my mother caught me with the boy when my father whipped me with his belt until I couldn’t move anymore.
I still feel the shame of that night. The humiliation.
She had my sisters watch. A family punishment, after a proper family dinner. She had me strip naked from the waist down and bend over the recently cleared dinner table while they all watched.
At least she sent the maids out of the room.
When my father had thought I’d had enough, she ordered him to go on until welts covered me from the backs of my knees to the whole of my buttocks. A lesson for my sister’s to learn what would happen should they try the same.
I think the Scafoni family is sick, but we’re sick too, us Willows.
Amy’s the only one of my sisters that I miss.
“You should teach your little pet to address us respectfully,” Lucinda says, drawing me back into the present.
“I’ll teach my pet to do as I like, not as you like.”
I pick up a breadstick and turn, leaning my back against the buffet, crunching the breadstick and watching them silently, washing it down with my martini. I should take it easy. I haven’t eaten all day.
It’s breezy tonight, and Sebastian favors me in dresses apparently because that’s about ninety percent of my wardrobe. I’m grateful the sleeves of my sweater are long, long enough I can hold them in my palms.
I lay one arm across my belly and just watch them while helping myself to a second breadstick.
Sebastian has turned his gaze back to Lucinda, and I guess they’re having a staring contest that she’s losing. I turn the bone ring in my hand, knowing now whose bone it is, feeling a surge of power run through me at the thought.
It’s my secret. Just mine. I have a piece of them. My aunt took the finger of her Scafoni bastard, took the bone from it, and made it into an ornament for herself. A skull she hung around her neck like a token of her victory.
Her notch.
How fitting, the skull.
God, I want to laugh. I want to laugh out loud.
“Your aunt wasn’t all there, and definitely not by the end.”
Hell, maybe I’m not all there either because since I’ve come to this place, I feel insane.
Sebastian turns to me. He unceremoniously shoves out the chair beside his with his foot.
“Sit.”
I guess those daggers are turned on me now. I walk obediently to the table and sit.
The girl I recognize from the few times she’s been up to my room quickly sets a place before me.
“I’m hungry,” Sebastian says. He’s resumed his stare down of Lucinda.
She swallows the last of her drink and rises. Ethan follows her lead, and for the first time, I see the hesitation on his face and what Sebastian said makes sense. He’s not all there. I’m curious what happened, what this accident was.
I glance at Sebastian. He’s watching Ethan too, and I swear I see something like remorse there. But it’s gone the instant Lucinda speaks.
“We’ll be on our way, then. Don’t want to keep you from your dinner.”
She gives me a pointed look before she turns, and Ethan follows on her heels.
A few minutes later, I hear the engine of the boat just as a bottle of wine is opened and dinner is served, a steak for each of the brothers with a side of potatoes and roasted vegetables, and for me, the same, but instead of a beef steak, mine is a vegetarian version.
“Thank you,” I say to the girl.
Sebastian and Gregory pick up their forks and cut into the meat. I start with a bite of potato. When I put the second bite into my mouth, Sebastian sits back and chews his, watching me.
He’s in a mood.
“I want you down for every meal from now on.”
“I don’t eat breakfast,” I say, knowing it’s a weak excuse.
“Well, you’ll start. Especially since we’ve taken into consideration your diet, and the cook is preparing special meals for you.”
“Why are you taking it into consideration?”
“Christ. Can you ever just be grateful and move on?”
He’s right on this one. I know it. “I am grateful. Thank you. It was just a question.”
“Nothing is just a question with you. Eat. I don’t want you too skinny.”
“Not enough flesh to whip?”
“Something like that.”
We glare at each other for a full minute until I can’t anymore and do as he says. I eat. I’m starving, and the food is good.
I study Gregory while I work my way through my plate. He and Sebastian share similarities in features and, more so, mannerisms, and I can’t help but watch them. They’re not big on talking, so we eat mostly in silence.
“Were you both here when my Aunt Libby was the Willow Girl?”
They both look at me, and it’s Sebastian who answers a moment later. “Yes, over the summers.”
“What was she like?” They seem surprised by my question, and I clarify. “I was only five when she came home. I never really got to know her.”
“She wasn’t like you,” Sebastian says.
“What does that mean?”
He continues like I haven’t spoken at all. “Although by the time I met her, she’d spent six months on the island, so maybe she was like you in the beginning.”
“Was it Lucinda who beat the marks into her back or was it your father?”
Gregory puts the last of his steak into his mouth, as if what I just asked was completely normal. All the while he’s studying me, his eyes unreadable.
Sebastian wipes his mouth and puts his napkin on the table, finished with his meal.
“I saw them once,” I say. “I still remember them. I thought they were tattoos. I had no idea.”
“My father suffered after my mother’s death. I don’t know that he ever got over it. In a way, your aunt became a friend to him, and more,” Sebastian says. “Lucinda hated her for that.”
“That doesn’t really answer my question.” I look at Gregory.
“It was my mother who put those marks on your aunt’s back,” Gregory says.
I guess I didn’t expect such a direct answer, especially from him because it’s still his mother we’re talking about. Maybe I don’t expect him to speak to me at all. Every time he does, it’s like he has to.
“Our father didn’t stop her, which in my eyes, makes it as much his fault as hers,” Gregory continues.
“Did you witness the punishments?”
“Some,” Gregory answers.
“You didn’t stop them either?”
“My brother was eight and I was twelve, Helena. We couldn’t have stopped them if we wanted to,” Sebastian replies.
“Did you want to?”
“Christ. Leave it alone,” Sebastian says.
“She has a right to know if she wants to know, brother,” Gregory says.
Sebastian turns to him. “But the problem, brother, is that Helena has a habit of asking questions she doesn’t really want to know the answers to.”
“I want to know,” I say.
“Why?” Sebastian asks. “What purpose would it serve?”
“I can bear witness.”
“Again, what purpose would it serve?”
“She has a right,” Gregory repeats.
I turn to Gregory. “Do you want this? Do you want a turn with me?”
Sebastian snorts.
Gregory studies me for a long time before answering. “I know my duty as a Scafoni.”
“But do you want it?”
“That’s enough, Helena,” Sebastian says. “Go to your room.”
“I haven’t had dessert.” I retort as a girl appears with a tray of cakes.
Sebastian narrows his eyes at me but doesn’t say anything when the girl comes to serve us. We eat the rest of the meal in silence.
When we’re finished, Gregory pushes his chair back and walks out toward the pool, straddles one of the lounge chairs there, and takes out a pack of cigarettes. I guess I’m surprised he smokes when he lights one up and sits back to watch the night sky.
I feel Sebastian’s gaze on me as I wipe my mouth and set my napkin on the table and stand.
“Sit.”
“You were dismissing me a few minutes ago.”
“And now I want you to sit. Or did you want to go chasing after my brother?”
I look at him, confused for a minute, but then I sit. A smile spreads across my face. It’s not a nice smile.
“Are you jealous?” I cock my head to the side, make a point of studying him.
He leans in close, and it takes all I have not to lean away. “Be careful with my brother, Helena. He’s not what you think. In fact, he’s just as wicked as the rest of us.”
He sits back in his seat, picks up the whiskey one of the girls brings him. They must know his habits by heart. He doesn’t even have to lift a finger.
“I have no doubt. But you didn’t answer my question,” I say.
I know I’m playing with fire. This man calculates his every move, and he’s much more adept at this game than I am.
“All right.” He turns to the girls who are clearing. “Leave us.”
Almost before he’s finished saying it, they scatter away like mice, disappearing into the house. My heart falls to my stomach as he rises to his feet and I anticipate his punishment, because he will punish me for this.
“Up.”
“Why? What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to give you what you want.”
I glance over at the pool, to where Gregory is leaning back on the lounge chair, smoking his cigarette, blowing a circle of smoke up into the sky.
I shake my head no.
He gives me a smile. His isn’t a nice one either. “Are you scared when I call your bluff, Willow Girl?”
I push my chair back, and the feet screech against the tiles.
Sebastian holds out his hand. His eyes give nothing away. I reach out to place my hand in his, and he walks me to the pool. I’m barefoot because I’d slipped my sandals off under the table. The grass between the tiled areas feels cool and soft beneath my feet.
Gregory turns to watch us, still smoking, casual, but something else too. Something darker that I hadn’t noticed before.
I pull back, but Sebastian tugs me into his chest.
“Don’t chicken out now, Willow Girl,” he says, kissing my mouth.
I put my hands flat on his chest to push him off, but he cups the back of my head with one hand and won’t release me from his kiss, although he doesn’t slip his tongue into mine, not now.
But then I feel his other hand at my back, feel him unzipping my dress. He’s still kissing me when he pushes the straps off my shoulders and down my arms so that I’m naked from the waist up.
I pull back, look over at Gregory, whose eyes are locked on me.
“What are you doing?” I ask Sebastian, my voice quieter, my throat suddenly dry.
In answer, he kisses me again, kisses my cheek, then my mouth and pushes the dress off so I’m just in my underwear.
“Sebastian.” I shove against him, but to no avail.
“You want my brother?”
I shake my head and glance back, but Gregory hasn’t moved, and his dark eyes are locked on me. On us.
Is he going to share me?
Is he going to give me to his brother?
Sebastian’s eyes narrow, and this notch is his. He knows it as well as I.
“You’ve made your point. Stop,” I say.
But he doesn’t.
Instead, he turns me so that my back is to him and I’m facing Gregory. He slides his big hand into the front of my panties and cups my pussy while the fingers of his other hand find my nipple and knead.
Gregory’s eyes lock on mine, and I can’t look away. Can’t look away as he watches me in this most vulnerable position.
“You’re wet, Helena,” Sebastian whispers at my ear.
I feel his hardness behind me and from here, I can see that Gregory is aroused too. There’s a moment when I wonder if they’ll both have me at once. It excites me as much as it terrifies me. And this, Sebastian letting his brother watch me, I know it’s a trap but also my punishment.
All the while, Sebastian’s working me slow. He must feel me when I’m close, and he backs off again and again. His mouth is on my neck, kissing me, and like a child who closes her eyes when she wants to hide, I shift my face from Gregory’s, unable to look at him.
But then he moves, and I turn to see him straddling the chair, legs wide, thighs powerful, and he’s stubbing out his cigarette.
He gets up and comes over and stands inches from me. His cock is hard, like a rod straining against his jeans. I swallow when Sebastian pulls his hand for my panties, leaving me unsatisfied, leaving a wet trail across my belly.
Gregory’s gaze slides down over my belly, and I press back against Sebastian. Sebastian takes my wrists and holds them at my sides when Gregory reaches out and touches me, runs the fingernails of one hand over my breast, his gaze never leaving mine as he slides his hand inside my panties where Sebastian’s just was.
“Stop,” I try.
His fingers feel foreign. Rough.
I twist this way and that, but Sebastian’s got me tight. Gregory’s rubbing my pussy, working my clit, and I don’t want this. I don’t.
God, I don’t.
And even as I deny it, I feel the tension building, feel my body preparing. I’m going to come. One more second, and I’m going to come. That sound, it’s me, it’s my breath hitching too loud in this quiet night.
“Enough,” Sebastian commands from behind me.
I meet Gregory’s eyes again when he stops, drags his hand from inside my panties, and smears my own juices across my belly, just like his brother did.
He then turns and walks away, walks back to the patio, pours himself a whiskey, and sits down.
He watches us as Sebastian pushes me down on my knees and kneels behind me. He switches his grip, dragging my arms in front of me, taking both wrists into one of his hands and with the other, turning my face so I can see him from the corner of my eye.
“Not what you wanted?”
I jerk my face away. He pushes my panties down, and I hear him unzip his jeans. A moment later, he’s inside me, thrusting once, twice, before he pulls out.
“You’re dripping,” he whispers at my ear, and I feel him grip my ass, slip his fingers between my cheeks, and finger my pussy. He then slides his fingers into my asshole and rubs.
“Sebastian,” I say, understanding his intention. Unable to drag my eyes from the outline of where Gregory sits, watching us. “I didn’t mean—”
He pushes a finger inside my ass, and I gasp. He keeps it there and tugs me closer, so my back is flat to his chest.
“You’re mine, Helena. Mine.”
He pulls his finger out and pushes me forward, releasing my wrists so I’m on hands and knees. He pushes his cock into my pussy again, once, twice, then pulls out. I feel him at my back hole.
He grips my hip with one hand while sliding the other to my clit. I cry out when he pushes against me, against my ass with his too thick, too big cock.
“I can’t. You can’t—” I try to crawl away, but his fingers dig into my hip.
“I am. If you relax, it’ll go easier.”
“Please don’t.”
He pulls back, rubs my clit, and I don’t know if I hate myself or him more because I’m going to come. After this humiliation, I’m going to fucking come. He knows it and I know it, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it and Gregory is still sitting there watching us, sipping his drink and just watching us.
When it happens, when I come, he pushes into my ass. It hurts, and I’m coming all at once.
It’s like tumbling from one orgasm to the next, and the sensations overlap, pain and ecstasy and pain, repeating, repeating like the pattern of the strangling, choking roses on my walls, as he penetrates deeper, taking more of me, claiming more of me as orgasm rocks my body.
He hauls me upright, my back to his front, and he’s all the way inside me. I can feel every inch of him. He wraps one hand around my throat, and the other is cupping my pussy.
“Mine, Helena. Every part of you is mine,” he says, fucking my ass in quick, deep, punishing thrusts, rubbing me again until I’m coming again and he’s coming too, and his brother is still watching and Sebastian is filling me up and holding me tight and repeating that one word over and over and over again until I know that I am his.
Only his.