SILENTLY, Arianna walked down the driveway from the gate towards the two-storey rest house that seemed to tower in the darkness. It was night and only moonlight served as the guide to see her way. The surroundings were quiet save for the noise coming from the crickets. It was a bit cold, but she could endure it, especially as nervousness and stress made her sweat on her walk from her house to here.

The noise of the night wasn’t enough to drown the loud thumping of her heart, though. It caused her chest to painfully constrict, the organ in its hammering pushed against her ribs, as if wanting to escape. She could understand its predicament as she tried not to think of the hell she was expecting to endure in the next hour. She had read about this, heard the women in Madame Venus’ kitchen talk about it. Sex. They gave her all sorts of advice, only to be silenced by a ‘shh!’ from one of them because she must have gotten pale because of the terror their detailed description brought her, until the remaining advice was to tell her to just look at them. They were happy. They could feed their families. They continued to survive. And it would only be just one night and nothing more for her, unlike them. She could move on with her life afterwards.

Her brother would be home. Her mother would not have to worry further about mounting dept. They would all be okay.

Focus.

She wore a red dress, a symbol of blood that would spill tonight. Her hands were visibly trembling. She reached the bottom of the three marble steps and stopped for a moment and lifted her eyes to the house... to one of the windows there where she felt a presence, a pair of unknown eyes watching her progress. But it was so dark up there that she could barely see if there was even a curtain that blocked the glass panes. She couldn't really see if anyone was there, and she might have been imagining him.

But her body shivered.

Yes, Arianna was sure there was someone there. The man who was waiting for her.

She lowered her eyes to the front now, at the dark porch beyond the staircase that felt ominous. Then she closed her eyes and for a moment resisted the dizziness that seemed just waiting to engulf her. She couldn't get confused or scared. She couldn't afford to be a coward. She was beyond that. She had surrendered to the fact that there was no other choice. There was no other way but this.

She had to save Tommy. She had to do this for her little brother.

Hands clasping her stomach, Arianna finally moved. She climbed the stairs and went to the large and heavy double doors. She grabbed one of the cold, brass handles and pushed it back after a squeeze. She didn't know what to expect, but when the door opened effortlessly, she knew she had reached the point where there was no backing down and changing her mind.

No turning back.

No running away.

She took the first step into the house.

And screamed when strong hands pulled her into the darkness.

ENRIQUE WATCHED silently as the woman walked from the gate towards the house. There was no hesitant step there, but slow and sure steps, a confident sway of the hips that seemed natural, and full of grace. He snickered at the description he thought of. Full of grace... yeah. So much in contrast with the bloody red scrap of sheer material which was her excuse for a dress.

He had to admire her for not wearing anything more in the cold of the night to cover her assets, her means to trade. And she was beautiful... what he could see of her, at least. She had fair skin, contrasting the redness of her dress, that she seemed to float in the darkness. Brad did promise she was going to be gorgeous. Her long hair, full and soft-looking, cascaded down her breasts and her back in soft, glorious curls. He felt heat sting his flesh when he imagined his fingers twisting strands of her hair on the pillows as he claimed her body, as he thrust his c*ck in the hot, slick and tight cavern of her p*ssy.

Enrique was surprised at the graphic drive of his thoughts. He looked at the glass of liquor he held in one hand. Lusting over a call girl like he was... he’d never lusted this hard and fast.

He'd never lusted over a call girl, period.

It must be the brandy.

He looked back at the approaching woman and felt satisfaction well up his chest. Well and good that for the first time in weeks, he'd felt stirring in his loins that didn't involve the bitch. After Helena dumped him for someone richer, Enrique lived in a swirl of anger and shock. He couldn't believe that money was the only reason she stayed with him and the same reason she left him. He couldn't believe that in their eight-month-long relationship, she’d successfully hid from him that part of her. He couldn't believe that the woman he had thought of dedicating his future to was a big fake.

He couldn't believe that he, Enrique Quiroz, had been fooled by a woman.

Blindsided by a fucking bitch.

Hadn’t he sworn he would never, ever be like his father?

Enrique's chest filled with bitterness and anger as he continued to watch the woman who had stopped now at the bottom of the stairs. His eyes narrowed when he saw her jerk a little, as if hit by something unseen. Like she was scared. Then he smiled. Cynically.

Go on, run away. Be scared. Who said life is easy? It's not going to for you tonight...

But she didn't run.

Instead, she looked up—and stared straight to where he exactly watched her behind the protection of stained windows.

It wasn't just a direct stare, or the perfect beauty of her face, but the vulnerability was like a spear that pierced his heart.

He felt it like an emotional assault, and he barely caught the recoil of his own body. As if she dealt a physical blow to his solar plexus.

It's just a trick of the light, he reasoned. Imposible. She couldn’t even see me.

It’s the brandy.

When he recovered, the woman was no longer looking up. He sighed, then wondered why he did. He turned and drained the remaining brandy from the glass, suddenly very impatient.

He was in a hurry to get downstairs.

To get to her.

To take her.

And conquer her.

Another fucking daughter of Eve.

Get this over with, with gnashed teeth he commanded himself. Get this over with and get over that look on her face that seemed like she was about to burst into tears. Bitches don't really cry, they crack a laugh so pure and evil that make any self-respecting asshole cry.

Get over her. Get over Helena's fucking shadow. Get over them bitches. This is for you, Helena. This is for you, mother!

He reached for the door as it opened and moonlight from outside exposed the shape of the woman's body in the gap. Heat sprung from between his thighs so fast that he almost groaned. She was so hot. His hand reached out and pulled her in.

He heard a small scream of surprise. But she caught it abruptly. But it already triggered the awakened devil in him. He pushed the door shut with one hand while he pulled her towards his hard body with the other. He raised his hand and his fingers combed through the softness of her hair. His brain registered that it was softer than he'd imagined, and he grunted his approval. He slid his hand down the line of her jaw, pinched her chin and rubbed her skin with his thumb, and felt the soft fullness of her trembling lips. He could hear her breathlessness, feel the frantic rise and fall of her chest as she breathe fast. He’d scared her. But he couldn't wait to know if he cared.

He wanted to kiss those lips.

And he lifted her face to his for a hot, wet kiss.