"Never," she hissed.
"Then we are gonna have a huge fucking problem," I said with a small thrust of my hips.
"I wouldn't call it huge," Stella said with a hard face and direct eye contact.
Little bitch. My hand was around her throat instantly. Tight enough to gain her attention but not tight enough to hurt. I lowered my mouth closer to her face so she could hear me.
"I am being very kind to you, Stella. I expect some respect in return," I whispered.
Her body stiffened under mine as I pulled away. That's when I saw it. The fear in her eyes. The darkness that I saw hanging over her for months was there. A part of me, the part that came from my father, wanted to own it. To exploit it and dive into it. To push and feed off her fear and screams.
The other part wanted to shield her. To tell her that it would be okay and that nothing could hurt her. But that would be a lie. I could easily hurt her and most likely would. I shoved off the bed, hearing a soft exhale of relief as I backed away.
"There are guards on duty at all hours in the house. Get some food and stay in your room. We will discuss the rest in the morning," I told her as I left the room.
In my office, Tony and Sal were waiting for me. They gave me a head nod in greeting as I rounded my desk and took a seat. I pulled up the surveillance and checked that Stella was still curled up in the bed.
“My father gone?" I asked.
"Yes, sir," Tony answered. "He seemed pleased."
"Hope so," I grumbled. My whole life, I aimed to please that man. It was never enough, but I lived to try. I just didn't understand why.
"Think this will work?" Sal asked. He was the one always thinking ahead and running through the possible scenarios.
"It has to."
I knew my dad better than anyone else in the family. I had learned from him, had watched him, and had listened to every word he said. He was as brutal as he was smart. I needed to find out the truth before he figured out what I was doing. You never went against orders, especially directly from the boss, if you wanted to live. Being an actual blood relative didn't exclude me from the rules.
"I need you two to watch her," I told them. "She is allowed access to the kitchen and the bedroom. I don't want to have to lock her up just yet. If she fucks that up, she will go downstairs."
They both nodded, and I knew they would do what I told them. They may have been loyal to the family, but they owed their lives to me, and they knew it. Their allegiance belonged to me above anyone else. They were the only two men that I would trust with this.
"What did she tell you?" Sal asked.
"She doesn't know where she is," I told him. "She says he's dead."
She thinks I killed him.
"You believe it?" Tony asked.
"Not sure yet. I'll make sure she talks."
I hoped she was wrong, and I hoped she was right. Someone had betrayed me, and it was either my own father or my best friend. Was Ace a rat and stabbing me the back? I knew my father was a murderer, but the question was, which of the Harlows did he murder in this case? All of them except the one he sent me to kill?
V
Stella
I cracked open the bedroom door and peered down the hallway. It was dark and empty, exactly how I wanted it. I tiptoed down the hall quietly, holding my breath. The last thing I wanted was for Atlas to see me. I had sat in the bedroom, crying and pacing for an entire day. Too scared to leave and too stubborn to eat, I was starving. I wanted to hide out in my room until a miracle happened and I was set free, but I would soon starve to death with that plan.
So plan B was to sneak into the kitchen, grab something to eat and get back to the room without being noticed. I thought I was clever refusing the food they brought me, but the empty feeling in my stomach was making me regret it. If I ever wanted to escape, I couldn't be ready to pass out. Dying of hunger had to be more painful than a bullet.
Every door was closed in the hall but I saw the light coming from the kitchen. I was almost there when I heard the sounds of voices. I froze in place, listening. I heard the deep rumble of Atlas's voice along with a stranger's voice, or maybe two. My hands shook with nerves and my body wavered between going toward the voices or the kitchen.
What if they could help me? If I told them I was here against my will, would they save me? Surely Atlas wouldn't fight for me if he was outnumbered. The thought of being free had my feet leaving the safety the kitchen could provide and moving toward the voices. Another hall was off to my right and the voices got louder. I poked my head around the corner, hoping to find safety.
French doors opened at the end of the short hall to a dimly lit room. Atlas sat in a dark leather chair, holding a glass on his knee. His eyes were hard as they connected with mine and I saw his jaw tick. Gasping, I didn't even bother to see who was with him before I turned and ran back to the kitchen. I would pretend I had gotten lost on the way.
I came to a skid on my bare feet as I rounded the corner into the kitchen. I made it to the large refrigerator and swung open the door, hoping to look innocent. The inside was packed full of food and drinks. At the sight, my stomach rumbled as I remembered how hungry I really was. The cold air hit my skin and I reached in to grab a yogurt.
"Finally ending your hunger strike?"
I screamed in surprise and spun to find Atlas leaning in the doorway, dressed in a black suit. He had a glass of amber liquor in one hand and wore a confident smirk on his face. His dark eyes trailed down my body in a threatening gaze. I bit my lip and let the refrigerator door close slowly. Facing Atlas, I didn't know what to expect as he stalked toward me.
"Do I need to chain you up again?" he asked when he was closer.
I shook my head quickly and stepped back until I hit the counter. I thought of the night in the basement and cringed. I had never been so scared in my life than I was chained to that pillar, utterly defenseless. I never wanted to relive that again.
"Then I suggest you stay in the areas you have permission to be in," he said. His voice was low and steady. It was a warning. "I was hesitant to let you leave the room at all. Don't make me regret it, Stella."
Every bit of me want to melt to the floor with his glare on me. I wanted to run but I didn't know where. Back to my room where he kept me? To the people that I could only assume wouldn't help me? My options were limited. Refusing to eat did nothing but make me desperate. Being brave and exploring only got me cornered. The only option at the moment seemed to be to do as I was told.
"Go straight back to your room when are you done," he told me before leaving me alone in the kitchen. I listened as his footsteps faded, knowing he didn't go far from the doorway.
I sighed and sagged against the cold counter. After several attempts, I found the silverware and grabbed a spoon. I had come all this way; I might as well eat the yogurt. I lifted the foil top and dug the spoon into the creamy goodness. It wasn't nearly enough to fill me but I was too nervous to stay in the kitchen any longer. I felt safer in my prison, as messed up as that was.
I found the trash and threw out the empty cup. When I turned to leave, two large men appeared in the doorway. Both with dark skin and void faces, staring down at me. One reached forward and plucked the spoon from my grip. I self-consciously shifted, knowing I was only in shorts and a tank top. My wardrobe selection hadn't been very vast, but I did have a closet full of clothes in my size.