Diavolo Ch 01 free porn video

Four months later…

Abigail rubbed her temples, her headache growing by leaps and bounds the closer the car drew to the Montenegro estate. Thankfully, the chauffer didn’t try to strike up any conversation. She had much to contemplate.

Her sister Mikayla had done it again; disgraced the family with her ungodly behavior. It wasn’t enough she’d taken Abigail’s childhood boyfriend away, now she was bedding some god-forsaken rock star while engaged to Daniel Montenegro II.

Daniel was a good man. They’d been very close when they were children and teens before her adoptive auntie Paulina sent her and Mikayla away to boarding school. The all-girls’ school hadn’t tolerated Mikayla’s undisciplined behavior and she was expulsed.

She didn’t see her sister for many years afterward, even as Abigail’s romance with Daniel II flourished…or so she thought.

Daniel sent her numerous letters at first, lovely poetry, CD’s with classical music, and even books for her to read.

As time passed, however, the letters became more sporadic. She thought nothing of it. He was, after all, pursuing a doctorate in his early twenties and being groomed to take his deceased father’s place in North Star Records. He had the finest tutors and attended the best schools. He was a virtuoso with the piano and violin and performed at many charity functions for his mother, Paulina.

Daniel was perfect. Abigail had been heartbroken when she heard he’d become engaged to her younger sister, Mikayla.

She didn’t blame him though. Mikayla was gorgeous with her flowing red hair and bright green eyes. Always the life of the party, her sister was fun and bubbly, if not a tad wild a little too promiscuous.

Even her name was exotic and alluring.

The complete opposite to Abigail Brown.

Gazing out the window, she contemplated her reflection in the tinted windows of the Audi.

She’d pulled her honey blond locks into a tight bun at the nape of her neck, as usual, and, likewise, her face was bare of any make up. Her blue eyes, which she always thought were too big for her face blinked back at her through the lenses of her black rimmed glasses.

Abigail wasn’t ugly. She just realistically accepted the fact that she was unremarkable. Passably pretty. Girl next door, and all that.

Sighing, she looked down at her short-nailed, unpolished fingers clenched in her lap. She’d worn a two-piece grey suit that consisted of a tailored jacket and loose slacks. Sensible black pumps with low heels gleamed primly on her feet. The only piece of jewelry she wore was the white gold Chanel watch her auntie Paulina had given her. A bit too ostentatious for her tastes, but she was never one to disappoint anyone, and stoically wore the gaudy piece of jewelry whenever she visited the Montenegro estate.

Paulina Montenegro wasn’t really her auntie. The woman and her mother, Marjorie Brown, had been good friends since childhood.

When Abigail and Mikayla’s father had passed away many years ago, Paulina Montenegro had taken them into her home and treated them like family.

Abigail was eternally grateful for her auntie sending her abroad to the best schools where she studied, art, music and philosophy.

After Daniel and Mikayla announced their engagement, Abigail felt shamed into saying that she actually wanted to pursue a vocation as a nun and Paulina had promptly sent her to the best nunnery in Italy.

Surprisingly, Abigail had found peace at the convent tucked away in the mountains, but her Mother Superior lovingly accused her of trying to run away from her problems by hiding at the convent and refused to allow her to take her final vows as a nun.

Abigail was prepared to prove her Mother Superior wrong, but the call from her mother, hysterical over the situation with Mikayla, Daniel II, and the rock star had her boarding the first of a series of planes to get her from Italy to the west coast of the United States.

Her mother begged her to talk sense into her younger sister, before Paulina found out and tossed them all out of the mansion. Marjorie hadn’t a penny to her name during all these years. Aunt Paulina had given them everything.

They would indeed be homeless. Her mother would be exposed to the ridicule of the society she ran in now, something that was obviously very important to her.

Perhaps Mother Superior was right. It was time Abigail came back home and perhaps started working, putting to use her many degrees in art, music, literature and philosophy. She could provide for her mother and her sister. Her family would just have to adapt at living modestly.

Closing her eyes, she did her best to convince herself that her spoiled sister and mother would accept that fate graceful and gratefully. Deep inside, she knew they’d be outraged and mortified, but there was nothing else she could do.

The car finally passed the immense gates to the Montenegro estate.

She rubbed her sweaty palms on her pants before stepping out of the rear of the car when the chauffer opened the door for her.

“Thank you, Edvard,” she said with a smile.

The young pimple-faced chauffer nodded and stepped back to retrieve her luggage.

About to tell him she could manage her small case by herself, she turned when she heard her mother call out to her.

“Oh, thank-god you’re here!”

Marjorie had aged much since last Abigail saw her mother.

Her short blond hair was stylishly cut into a sleek bob that accentuated her sharp chin. Mother wore a silky cream-colored blouse, a pair of pale green palazzos, and gold ballerina flats. The modest string of pearls caught on the buttons of Abigail’s. jacket when she pulled away.

Lines bracketed Marjorie’s mouth and eyes, as if all her mother did was frown and worry.

“How are you mother?” Abigail said politely.

She was about to tell her mother how much she missed her, but was interrupted by her mother’s impatient, “Why did it take you so long to get here? I called you two days ago.”

Abigail resisted the urge to curl her shoulders in dejection. “Mother, I was in Italy. I took the first flight I could find—“

“Oh, no matter,” her mother shook her head dismissively, her lips pressing into an angry line. “You got here just in time. Daniel is out of the country dealing with business and Mikayla is getting ready to go to a party at that—“ Marjorie’s face twisted into a moue of distaste, “that long-haired devil spawn’s hovel.”

All color drained from her mother’s face and for a panicked moment, she thought the woman would swoon.

“Mother!” Gripping her mother’s frail arms, Abigail steered her farther along the circular driveway lest the employees overhear their embarrassing conversation.

“Mother, I’ve never seen you so distraught. It’s probably another one of Mikayla’s passing—“

“Oh, Abby, if only I could tell you the extent of the nightmare.”

“It can’t be as bad—“

“But it is,” her mother snapped facing Abigail with frenzied eyes. “It the revenge of the deceased Daniel Montenegro. He’s sent his spawn here to torment us!”

“Mother, please calm down. What are you saying?”

“That man, Gabriel…he’s the long lost son of Paulina’s sister, Rosalina.”

“Who?” Abigail had never heard of her. All these years she’d thought Paulina an only child. Orphaned when she was young.

Marjorie shook her head and crossed herself. “God forgive me. The deceased was engaged to be married to Rosalina, but Paulina wanted him. I’d never seen her lust so after any man. She’d cry herself to sleep every night and was growing sick. She was my friend, more of a sister than Rosalina ever was to her, and I had to help her.”

Abigail stared hard at her ranting mother, feeling confused. “What are you talking about?”

Her mother gripping her arms brutally tight, making her wince. The older woman leaned close, her blue eyes showing whites. “We got them drunk. Rosalina was going to give herself to Daniel for the first time after their engagement party. He was madly in love with her and the wedding was to take place the beginning of June, but we got them drunk.”

Marjorie almost crumpled and it was Abigail who had to hold her up now. “Mother, please compose yourself and explain what your trying to tell me. Daniel’s father wasn’t to marry aunt Paulina?”

“No. He was in love with Rosalina, her younger sister. They threw a party to celebrate their formal engagement. It was a whirlwind romance and they were the talk of all society. That night, Paulina kept giving Rosalina cup after cup of champagne until the poor girl could barely stand. We managed to pry Daniel away from her to help her up into Paulina’s bedroom. Later that night, I went to Daniel and told him Rosalina had sent me to tell him she was waiting for him in her room.”

Abigail gasped, realizing what her mother was saying at last.

“It was Paulina waiting for him. They were sisters and were the same height, weight…they even had the same voice if Paulina pitched hers to speak softly. Daniel had too much to drink, he never turned on the light…I had to help because he passed out on her.”

Marjorie shook her head. Abigail was glad because she really didn’t want to hear about what that help entailed.

Cupping her throat in panic, Abigail asked, “Daniel is the product of that…that night?”

Marjorie scowled at her. “No. Paulina never conceived that night. Daniel never touched her. She faked he had seduced and taken advantage of her and that she was pregnant. A few months later after he’d married her we had to devise a convincing way for her to lose her baby because fucking every employee in the household was not resulting in her getting with child.”

Abigail stared horrified at her mother. “That’s awful, mother. How could you stoop to such—“

“Listen here, young lady,” her mother hissed, “if Paulina hadn’t married that rich son-of-a-bitch you wouldn’t have studied abroad nor had the comfortable lifestyle we’ve all been enjoying thanks to Paulina’s generosity.”

Abigail abstained from voicing her outraged opinion. She could care less about luxury, especially when it stemmed from such heinous measures of depravity.

“Anyway, she managed to separate Rosalina and Daniel, but not for long. That slut, Rosalina had her wicked way with him after all, and got herself pregnant with Gabriel.”

Abigail raised her brow at her mother calling the younger sister a slut when it clearly had been Paulina who’d sinned first by stealing her sister’s betrothed.

“When Paulina found out about the birth of her husband’s bastard son, she demanded he give her a child of her own. The man never touched her. They slept in separate rooms and then even separate houses. Paulina threatened to kill herself and this time I actually thought she’d go through with it until he conceded going to a clinic with her and just donating his sperm. Paulina had another woman carry the child for her and nine months later Daniel was born.”

Abigail closed her eyes in horror. What her mother had just told her was…outrageous. “Does Daniel know about all this?”

“Don’t be stupid. Of course he has no idea.”

“Well clearly none of this was his fault, but he should know he has an older brother. It’s family.”

“Bite your tongue!” her mother admonished. “Have you even seen this man? Of course you haven’t. He’s a devil worshiping heathen, and your aunt Paulina will have none of her fortune squandered away on whores and drugs by this man. He’d drag the prestigious family name through the mud by the time he was through. Is that what you want for your precious Daniel?”

Abigail shook her head, swallowing hard. Dear sweet Daniel did not deserve any of this.

“I don’t know if that man has any idea who he is, but he must be kept away from the Montenegro estate. Paulina would have a fit if she knew he was still around threatening her position.”

“How did Mikayla meet him? Did you tell her any of this?”

Marjorie’s eyes widened. “No. She must never know. You know how she gets. She might tell the press in one of her tantrums. Paulina would toss us out on our ear from the embarrassment. Where would I go, Abigail? We would be homeless. “ Marjorie covered her face, distraught. “I would be homeless and penniless.”

Abigail gathered her mother close and kissed her head. It had been so long since she’d kissed her mother and held her. “Mama, please. Don’t cry. I can get a job and rent a little place out near the coast. We can be happy on our own.”

Marjorie pushed out of her arms and scowled at her daughter. “A job? Rent some little hovel? Are you mad? Look around you,” her mother said walking in a small circle, her arms thrown out dramatically. “You expect me to leave all this for some shitty little apartment you want to rent?” she laughed humorlessly. “Live off your paltry paycheck. You’ve never worked a day in your life. Have you any idea what minimum wage is?”

“I have various degrees—“

“Worthless!” her mother spat, surprising her. “You were being groomed to be Daniel II’s wife. Had I known giving that little twat some good pussy would be enough, I’d have sent you to Vegas instead to learn to be a stripper like your sister.”

“Mother!” Abigail gasped, feeling her face flame at the vulgar way her dear sweet mother had just expressed herself…and then she wondered about Mikayla. Had her little sister become a stripper? Why had no one told her?

Her headache began to pound harder, making her nauseas.

“Mikayla is getting ready as we speak to go to a party at that devil spawn’s house. You must stop her, or if not, talk to that damned man. Make him see reason. She can’t mean anything to the likes of him anyway.”

Abigail shook her head. “Why would you say that? How can you be so sure?”

Marjorie’s lips twisted into a sardonic grin. “He’s nothing but a drugged up, alcoholic rock star. His kind just fuck any willing female. They rarely tie themselves to any one.”

Abigail winced again at the expletive. She’d never heard her mother express herself in such a common manner. It was disturbing. She felt as if she really didn’t know the woman standing before her. A complete stranger.

Her mother was pulling her now toward the house. “We need to hurry. She doesn’t know you’re here.”

It had been at least five years since she’d been here, the sprawling estate where she’d been raised since she could barely walk.

She’d always been afraid of getting lost within the walls of the castle-like mansion. It was said that as one grew, your childhood home shrunk and seemed less foreboding. It was not so with the Montenegro mansion. She was reminded of a movie Mikayla made her watch of a haunted house that grew all on its own.

Abigail always kept to the immediate area of her rooms and dining area. She was never one to wander off. Her exceptions were the library where she and Daniel II spent hours quietly reading next to each other.

She thought of poor Daniel and wondered how he’d react to knowing Mikayla was cheating on him. He’d be heartbroken. Although he’d broken Abigail’s heart, she didn’t want to see him suffer. He’d been quite contrite and apologetic when he personally called her and explained how he’d become smitten with Mikayla. Told her he’d understand if she hated him, but that he loved her enough to want to do the right thing and be upfront and honest with Abigail.

Heart plummeting to her feet, Abigail had thanked him for his honesty and then lied telling him that she was a bit relieved because she really wanted to be a nun. He seemed so relieved afterwards, she hadn’t minded the guilt at having to lie to him. He deserved to be happy, not ruin his and Mikayla’s happy moment with regretful thoughts about poor dejected, wretched Abigail.

As they entered the estate foyer, they were met by auntie Paulina.

The woman, although well into her late fifties, was regal. Tall and willowy, her blond hair was swept up in an elegant twist at the back of her head and she wore a champagne-colored. Silk, two-piece pants set that looked like it cost a fortune. Her glossy beige Louboutin’s barley made a sound on the pristine stone floors as she glided toward them in the foyer.

Dark, almost black eyes pinned Abigail to the spot, and her pale painted lips twitched into a tiny smile of welcome. Clutching Abigail’s hands, she leaned forward and kissed the air to either side of Abigail’s cheeks. “My child. What a surprise to see you here.” Those dark eyes honed in on Abigail, as if trying to see into her soul. It made Abigail almost want to cringe under its intensity, and she immediately understood her auntie Paulina was wondering if she was going to make a scandal about being jilted by her son after all.

“I’ve been gone for so long. I just got a little homesick,” Abigail replied sweetly.

Her aunt’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. Then again, when did it ever. “Well, it pleases me to know that my home feels like your home to you. It’s all I ever wanted for you and your mother to feel. Like you’re home.”

Abigail gulped. Her steely meaning couldn’t have been clearer.

Next to her, her mother giggled and clasped Abigail’s arm. “Abby is really excited to hear Mikayla’s plans on the wedding.”

For the first time, Abigail saw her aunt Paulina throw her head back and laugh. Genuinely laugh. “Really? Well, Abigail is more of a saint than I thought.” She fluttered her hands, glittering diamonds on each finger as she turned away and headed toward the study. “Be off with your talks of weddings. Just remember I hired the best wedding coordinator to organize this whole thing. It is after all my only son. This event must be done tastefully to say the least. We have a reputation to keep.”

With that, she disappeared around the bend of the corridor toward the study.

*

Mikayla’s room was a mess despite the servants’ best efforts to keep it tidy. Loud music blared from her surround sound system, making Abigail’s already throbbing headache bloom to nightmarish levels.

Abigail was practically shoved into the enormous suite of rooms by her mother and then abandoned.

Just like Abigail’s suite a few doors down the corridor, Mikayla’s opened to a large sitting room first. There was a balcony overlooking the side of the estate and the gardens below. The back of the estate had the best views, but those rooms were reserved for auntie Paulina, Daniel II and any important guest they might have come for a visit.

Still, the scent of the pacific ocean blew in through the wide balcony doors, making the gauzy white curtains dance lazily in the salty breeze.

The sun was setting, making the room glow in golden light.

Her feet sank into plush, stark-white carpet as she made her way toward the bedroom.

There were more clothes and shoes strewn everywhere here as well. Right over the fireplace was the source of the loud music. The ninety-inch flat screen projected, in all their sweaty glory, a band of long-haired males belting out a seductive hard driving tune that had Abigail stopping in her tracks to gape. The guitarist’s black t-shirt clung to his honed body as his fingers flew deftly over the strings of his instrument. Though she did not care for the loud, pulsing music, she did realize it took talent and many years of practice to be able to play with the dexterity and precision the young musician displayed.

Flashes of a man, exquisitely muscled with dark tawny skin, and a mane of jet-black hair, caught her interest. He had wings inked on his sculpted back. Priding herself for having an eye for true masterpieces, Abigail had to admit he had the body worthy of any sculptor immortalizing in stone or perhaps a painter upon his canvas.

The man began to sing, his deep voice captivating her, until that hauntingly deep baritone rose and became guttural. Savage, wild, riveting…that was what this man was.

Arms being thrown around her, startled a little scream from Abigail.

“Biatch! What are you doing in town?” Mikayla squealed exuberantly as she spun poor Abigail around in joy.

Abby’s glasses flew in one direction and the pins of her hair in another.

After Abigail’s shoes finally fell off, Mikayla dropped her dizzy sister and plopped herself on her king-sized bed.

Abigail had to grip the edges of the mantle to steady herself. Over her head, the lead singer of the rock band caressed his chest suggestively.

Abigail moaned and looked away.

Mikayla watched her like a predatory animal, her red hair wild around her shoulders as she lounged in panties and bra.

Abigail felt herself flush. She was used to seeing her sister parade around in her under things, but the under things she wore now were barely tiny little scraps of satin and lace.

Oh my.

“So what brings you out of your convent and back into the land of sin?” Mikayla grinned evilly.

“Mother begged me to come and talk to you…”

Mikayla groaned and flopped back on the bed with a long whine. “Noooo—please. No more long sermons about Gabriel Raven. I like him and I’ll toss him aside when I get tired of him…promise,” she said on a long, tired, drawn-out breath. “I need to sow my oats before settling down and growing into an old married hag. Besides, Daniel is no fun. He’s so stuffy, he won’t even let me suck his cock for cripes sake!”

“Mikayla!” Abigail screeched in indignation. Her cheeks grew hot and she fanned herself.

Her twenty-six-year-old baby sister laughed loudly, rolling around on the bad and kicking her feet. “Are you fucking kidding me, Abby? Please don’t tell me you’ve never sucked a dick before! You’re frigging twenty-eight-years-old!”

“Mikayla, please! That’s so gross and vulgar.”

Mikayla popped up off the bed and gripped Abigail again, spinning her around so that she faced the flat screen.

“There’s nothing gross or vulgar about it, Abs. It’s empowering. Look at him—“

Abigail did. The lead singer had his head thrown back, his hips grinding slowly as he sang, voice full of passion.

“Take it…take it…take all of me…all of my love,” he crooned making Abigail’s hair stand on end. She barely repressed the urge to shudder and shook her head squeezing her eyes tight.

“You know how cool it is to drive them crazy, know you’ve got them riding the edge of lust and pleasure.”

Abigail shook out of her sister’s hold and faced her angrily. “But what of Daniel? He doesn’t deserve this, Mikayla.”

Mikayla’s eyes grew cold and aloof as she studied her perfect French manicure. “Daniel is gone on business, doing Daniel things. It isn’t as if I’m going to dump his ass.” She winced and looked up at Abigail with a sheepish grin. “Oops. Sorry about that. You’re not mad, are you? I mean you wanted to be a nun, you know. So it was all for the best.”

Abigail swallowed her hurt and shook her head. “Mikayla, please. You should remain pure for your—“

“Oh-my-god, woman! What century were you born? Fuck, you seriously need to get laid before you get your habit or whatever the hell it is you guys do. Are you going to shave your head? I’ve heard nuns do that.” Mikayla wrinkled her nose and fluffed her own thick waist-length tresses.

Abigail sputtered. “N-no. Stop trying to change the subject, Mikayla.”

Her sister’s green eyes bulged and her teeth flashed in a molar to molar grin. “Oh-my-god! What a great idea! I’ll take you to Gabe’s bash and we’ll get you laid. Nothing too wild, since this is obviously your first time…is it?”

Abigail could barely contain the flap of her jaw as she struggled to keep up with her sister. “Of course! No—I’m not having sex. Mikayla—“

“Nonsense,” Mikayla exclaimed running over to her private bar and retrieving a glass of amber liquid. “Here. Drink this. Liquid courage. Jack will loosen you up. You won’t feel a thing!”

“No! Mikayla stop,” Abigail protested as her sister tried to force her to drink whatever Jack was. It smelled awful. “I don’t drink alcohol.”

“Great, this can be your first too. Yippee! This is so much fun, Abby. I’ll make a woman out of you yet.”

To Abigail’s dismay, the smelly drink sloshed all over her, ruining her suit. “Mikayla!”

He sister just laughed and dumped the rest of the drink right over Abigail’s head. She danced away, laughing.

“You better hit the shower and get dressed quick. I’m going to do my hair and makeup. Angelo is coming to pick us up.”

“Wait—what? Who is Angelo?” Abigail barely restrained herself from wailing in misery.

“The drummer from Diavolo.” Mikayla rolled her eyes, looking exasperated, “Hellooo. Geez, Abs.”

Abigail blinked at her in shock. “The band’s name is what?”

Mikayla grinned at her as she shimmied into a silver skirt—oh—it was an indecently short dress

Sweet Baby Jesus!

“Diavolo,” her sister repeated with relish as she shook out her hair and frowned at the straps of her bra.

With a shrug, Mikayla took the offending garment off and bounced on her toes a few times so that her breasts jiggled as she laughed.

Either Abigail was hallucinating, or Mikayla had gone up a few cup sizes since she last saw her.

“Oh, I need more ice,” Mikayla sputtered racing out of the room.

Abigail just stared after her, hair dripping onto her ruined clothes.

As she gaped down at herself, at a loss as to what to do, her mother rushed in.

“Well?” she snapped at Abigail.

Abigail just stared at her a few seconds before saying, “wouldn’t it be easier to just have her committed? Mother, she is insane!”

Her mother scowled. “Don’t be ridiculous. We’d never live down the shame. No one in our lineage has ever been committed.”

Their lineage?

Her mother talked about them as if they were royalty, not the penniless survivors of a man who gambled away the family fortune and then killed himself when the stock market crashed.

“She’s about to leave!” her mother pointed out signaling toward the door through which Mikayla had raced to find ice.

What the hell did she want with ice anyway? Strange-strange girl.

“What can I do, mother? I can’t force her to stay.”

Marjorie stomped her foot. “You go with her, you idiot. Watch she doesn’t wrap her legs around that damned demon!”

Abigail ran her fingers through her sopping hair. “Great. How am I supposed to keep her from doing that?”

Her mother turned her around and shoved her in the direction of the bathroom. “Find a way. Seduce him yourself. Just keep Mikayla from bedding that devil.”

Abigail stared at her mother in horror. She couldn’t believe her mother wanted her to…no. It was too horrendous to even contemplate.

“Mother, I’ve never been with a man. Wouldn’t even know the first thing on seducing one.” Abigail felt hurt her mother thought so little of her to throw away her virginity just so that Mikayla could keep Daniel.

Her mother lifted her head and stared down her nose at her. “No wonder Daniel dumped you. Abigail, don’t look at me like that! Your ideals and morals are more archaic than your grandmother’s. Stop being such a selfish prude and save me from becoming destitute.” Her mother’s last words were uttered tearfully before she spun on her heel and fled the bathroom.

Fingers cold and trembling, Abigail turned on the faucets in Mikayla’s bathroom and showered quickly, washing her hair in the process.

In less than ten minutes, she was done and detangling her long hair. Walking out with a large white towel wrapped around her, she stopped in horrified terror when she realized they were no longer alone.

A tall, blond, muscular, pierced, and tattooed man was lounging comfortably on her sister’s bed.

He was twirling a pair of stick in his hands until he spotted her and dropped them wide-eyed.

“Ey, you didn’t tell me you had a little snack for me, Mickey.”

Mikayla was in the process of painting her heart-shaped lips red and looked at Abigail in the mirror.

Abigail had begun to step slowly back toward the bathroom, not liking the hungry way the man looked her up and down.

“Oh, that’s just my big sister, Ang.”

Angelo, the drummer she’d mentioned earlier, grinned, licking his lips. “Well, she doesn’t look very big, but I’ll bite.”

Mikayla giggled spraying a cloud of perfume around herself. “Don’t get any ideas. I’m tossing her to Ariel.”

Angelo grimaced, looking at Mikayla as Abigail stumbled over the obstacle course in her sister’s room, trying to reach the bathroom to lock her naked self inside.

“Ariel?” the man bellowed. “That ugly fuck? Why would you toss her to him when I’m so gorgeous? This is your sister for fucks sake. Unless you’re saving me for yourself.” He laughed, his voice deep and throaty. “Ah come-on, Micks. I’ll do the both of ya! It’ll be fun.”

Abigail fell with a pathetic squeak on the chaise lounge just a few feet from the bathroom archway. How the heck did that get there?

Grappling with the towel, she wondered how she would get up without flashing the man whose gaze was now riveted to her thighs.

“I’m done.” Mikayla glanced at Abigail with cool aloofness. After rolling her eyes, she gestured to Angelo, “Let’s go. She’s a little shy. We’ll wait for you downstairs, Abby, but if you take too long just get Edvard to take you. I’ll leave him the address. Let’s go, Ang.”

“But I want to see what kind of kitty Abby has under there,” he whined pressing his head to the mattress to get a glimpse of Abigail’s girlie parts.

Abigail twisted her legs together with an indignant squeal.

Mikayla sneered and yanked him up by his belt buckle. “Let’s go, Romeo.”

The man’s hair came to just past his shoulders, curling in cherubic ringlets. The look he gave her over his shoulder was anything but angelic though.

“Oh-god! What have I gotten myself into?” she whispered still clutching her towel.

“Hurry,” her mother said rushing in.

Abigail stared at her, mouth open. “You don’t expect me to go naked!”

Her mother grabbed some glittery black material and pushed it into her hands. Abigail dropped her towel and her mother rushed about collecting things.

“W-what are you doing?” Abigail demanded standing frozen.

“Helping you dress. If you don’t hurry she’ll leave and you’ll never find her once she disappears from your sight.”

She tossed a tiny scrap of material toward Abigail. “Here. Those still have the tags on them.”

Abigail unfolded the tiny black lace thong with a little tag that said $7,500. Her eyes bulged. “This is obscene!”

Her mother yanked the dress from her hands and started to pull it over her head.

“Obscene would be walking out of here without them.”

The black sparkly dress barely covered Abigail’s ass. Maybe it was a blouse. She just needed some leggings to go with it and some pretty flats.

She hopped around on one foot as she pulled on the thong. It was nothing but a tiny triangle held together by three rhinestone studded strings. “This doesn’t cover anything!” Abigail protested.

“It’s more for show, Abby. Here, put these shoes on. Hurry please. I think I just heard that wicked disgusting man revv up his Ferrari.”

Abigail stared in horror at the red, four-inch stilettos. She’d surely break her neck if she attempted to walk with those.

No matter, her mother was already shoving her out the door.

“You can put them on in the car. Let’s go, sweetie. You’re such a dear, taking care of your baby sister this way. I always knew I could count on you.”

“Mom, I’m not wearing a bra!”

“Oh, honey, you really don’t need one. The girls here on the west coast are no smaller than a D cup and you’re—what? A B cup?” Her mother had the audacity to tisk behind her back as she practically shoved Abigail down the stairs.

Abigail was a C cup, but that was beside the point. She was being dressed like a tramp and forced to seduce a man her mother repeatedly referred to as devil’s spawn and demon; all this to cover the reputation of her sister who really was a tramp.

Marjorie practically shoved Abigail out the front doors.

Barefoot, still clutching the red pumps over her breasts in mortification, she gaped at the red Ferrari sitting in front of the steps leading to the main entry. It purred like a beast waiting to devour her.

Slowly, the top of the car folded down.

Mikayla hung out over the door laughing as Angelo blew out a long puff of smoke from his pouty lips.

“Come-on already. We were going to leave without you.” Mikayla opened the door. “Hop in the back. Your hair should dry before we get there with the breeze.”

Abigail spotted Angelo trying to look up her dress through the rear-view mirror.

She felt completely naked and out of her element. Lord help her. Even when she used the pool, she was more covered than this!

“You look hot! Ariel’s gonna love you!” Mikayla chirped as the car wound its way around the circular driveway.

Angelo balked in the front seat pulling onto the long oak-lined drive that would lead them to the front gates. “Ariel! Why Ariel? I’m available! Don’t be mean, Mickey!” Looking at Abigail through the rearview mirror, he added, “listen up, Abs. Don’t listen to your sister. She’s aiming to set you up with our bass player. He’s a miserable fuck. You don’t want him. We don’t call him Eeyore for nothing. You want me. I’m the sexiest one in the band and the funnest. With me you’ll have fun. I’m a fun guy!”

“Oh, put a sock in it. You sound pathetic and desperate,” Mikayla snapped impatiently.

“I can’t help myself. She’s cute. I want her before the others try for her. Once the others get their hands on her she’s spoiled goods.”

Mikayla punched him in the arm.

“Ow! It’s the truth. Every female those idiots fuck turn into psychos. Especially the ones Gabe bangs. Ooowww! Easy on the arms! I’m a delicate musician. These hands here are worth millions.”

Abigail and Mikayla screamed when the car coasted toward the edge of the cliff they were already speeding perilously close to, because Angelo lifted his precious hands to admire them.

“Watch where you’re going, you idiot!” Mikayla shouted. “I’m too young and beautiful to die yet.”

He snorted and gripped the wheel again. “I know what I’m doing. I don’t need no backseat drivers. This car is special. It’s like Kitt from Knight Rider.”

“Crap, Ang,” Mikayla scolded him. “How many times do I have to tell you those shows are way before my time. I have no fucking idea what the hell you’re talking about.”

“Well, that’s why your generation is so lost. You grew up with crap. You can’t appreciate the good stuff.”

“Oh be quiet, moron.”

Angelo snorted in disgust. “Mad cow—OW! Stop beating on me!”

“Well then shut-up and just drive!”

When Mikayla turned her head to look to the side, Angelo stuck his tongue out at her behind her back.

They drove for about twenty minutes before turning onto a long winding road up a mountain.

By the time they pulled up to a gothic looking castle, fit for Dracula, Abigail was shiver from the cold. Her hair had dried but she had so little clothing covering her, she just wasn’t used to it. Her teeth chattered as she slipped on the red pumps with numb fingers.

Mikayla was out of the Ferrari and bouncing excitedly on the cobble-stoned walkway.

The area was filled with people milling about, mostly dressed in black, leather, and chains. There was lots of leather and chains. For a moment Abigail feared they’d taken her to a BDSM club. She might be innocent about many things, but she wasn’t completely ignorant.

All around the monstrous mansion blared loud music. Nothing she was familiar with since she only listened to some jazz and classical.

“Wait,” Mikayla blurted. She ran her fingertip over her red mouth and then dotted Abigail’s lips. “There so you don’t look so washed out.”

Abigail was just about to wipe the sticky stuff off her lips until she looked around. All the females were sizing her up. Some just stared at her wide-eyed. Others whispered behind their hands giggling.

Abigail bit her lower lip and looked down, tugging at the hem of the dress that just about covered an inch off her ass. The thong she wore also barely held her feminine parts covered, but her entire backside was bare, with a flimsy elastic pulled taut between her cheeks. It was humiliating. Abigail had never felt so exposed.

Her loose hair fell in messy waves around her shoulders and arms. She pulled it forward to cover the fact she wore no bra and her nipples were about to poke right through the stretchy fabric of the dress.

“Come-on, Abs. Don’t let these skanks intimidate you,” Mikayla laughed pulling her forward.

To Abigail’s chagrin, she stumbled and would have eaten the pavement had Angelo not slipped his muscular arm around her waist.

“Easy there, sweetness. We don’t want you to get all banged up,” he crooned near her ear. His hand settled low on her waist very close to her groin. He squeezed the slightly jutting presence of her hipbone. “Oh, yeah. You’ve got some sweet little curves, cutie.”

“Stop pawing her, you brute. Hey, Ariel,” Mikayla called out, waving enthusiastically to a very tall, skinny guy standing near the entrance to the mansion.

It was dark, but after a while, the lanky bass player straightened and approached them as they made their way closer.

Abigail continued to make a fool of herself, unable to keep her ankles from wobbling on the sky-high heels.

“Too much to drink?” the bass player’s deep voice questioned.

Up close, Abigail tried to be polite and not stare at the man. He had long black hair that formed a riot of curls around his head and shoulders. She couldn’t tell what color his eyes were because it was dark, but his gaze was intense. Strong bone structure and a squared chin might have made him handsome if he didn’t have a jagged scar running down one side of his face. His lips were thin and a tad cruel looking and he had to measure well over six and a half feet.

“What’d I tell you,” Angelo muttered under his breath, giving Abigail a little nudge to let her know he was talking to her.”

Ariel looked curiously at his band mate before scowling. “What did you tell her?”

Angelo gave Ariel innocent eyes. “I just told her that you’re a depressing fuck.”

Ariel’s scowl fell from his face. He just stared at Angelo before turning on his heel and walking away.

Abigail actually felt bad for the man.

“You stupid fucker,” Mikayla snapped at Angelo. “Look what you did! Now how am I going to get her laid? Come-one, Abs.”

If Abigail had wanted to die of mortification before, now she just wanted the ground to open up beneath her. A sinkhole would be a blessing right now.

Angelo’s eyes widened as he gestured to himself. “Hellooo! I’ve got a cock and am eagerly volunteering for the job.”

“Please. Mikayla. I want to leave. Think of Daniel. We shouldn’t be doing this. If he finds out He’ll be devastated.”

“I can’t hear you, Mikayla shouted above the noise. We’ll get you something to drink and then I need to go find Gabe.”

Abigail accidentally bumped into a guy that had so many piercings on his face he looked mutilated.

“S-sorry,” she said hunching her shoulder in fear when he wiggled his forked tongue at her.”

“Good-lord! Did you see that, Mikayla?” Abigail exclaimed.

“Come-on. Just a little further. I think I see Ariel over there.”

Abigail tripped and wobbled her way behind her sister, trying to get her to listen to reason, but the girl was like a freight train, dragging her in her wake.

Mikayla managed to haul her halfway through the mansion before giving up and propping her up against one of the columns in the ballroom.

“Stay there. I’ll be right back. I really need to find Gabe before some other skank picks him up.”

Abigail looked at her in shock. About to demand she listen to what she was saying, she only managed to sputter as Mikayla sprinted away.

Oh-no. Hadn’t her mother warned her not to let her out of her sight? That she’d disappear?

Abigail looked around, yanking at her dress. A few of the males were giving her appreciative stares, but some were laughing at her too.

“Hey look at that drunk broad,” one of them pointed.

A group of about seven men stared intently at her. They looked scary and ready to pounce.

Abigail needed to find Mikayla. They needed to leave at once.

Reaching down, she removed her heels to the tune of whistles and male howling.

“Yeah! Take it all off, baby!”

She disappointed them by sprinting out the back balcony doors.

Mistake.

It was pitch dark out here. There were a few torches lit here and there, but for the most part, it was pitch black.

She wasn’t used to being out at his time of night so her night vision really sucked, plus, she’d forgotten her glasses back at the Montenegro estate.

Carefully stepping out onto a terrace of sorts, she could smell the scent of the ocean.

She shuddered not daring to venture past the edge of the terrace fearing she might walk right off a cliff to her death.

A soft breeze blew right up her dress making her shiver hard.

Angrily, she dropped the shoes she carried and tugged at the dress viciously.

“I think you’re supposed to pull it the other way,” a very deep, silky voice purred behind her.

Startled, she let out a little yelp of surprise and spun back to confront her possible attacker.

Her foot stepped on the sharp point of the high heels she’d dropped and she cried out in pain as it cut her instep. If that weren’t enough, she lost her balance, trying to hop on one foot to avoid further damaging her left foot and fell back toward the unforgiving stone floor.

Strong arms encircled her, as the sound of glass shattering at her feet sounded. One second she was flailing, the next she was swept up into the strongest arms she’d ever felt. Her feet left the ground. Abigail’s yip of surprise turned into a grunt when her left breast smashed against a wall of sculpted masculinity.

One arm under her knees, the other encircling her back, Abigail had no choice but to grip her mysterious savior. If hadn’t caught her, she’d most likely be out cold on the floor with a concussion.

“You’re supposed to run out at midnight and leave one shoe, not break your neck four hours before by tripping on them, Pop Tart.”

Indignant, she began to reply heatedly, “I’m not Cinder—wait…what did you call me?”

His chuckle slid through her body like no man’s ever had…and she’d loved hearing Daniel’s laughter. It had given her butterflies. Her dark savior’s laughter had made her whole body feel flushed and tight…and she still hadn’t seen his face clearly.

He wore an extremely expensive silk shirt. She could tell from how luxurious it felt beneath her fingers. The heat of him radiated through the soft material and his muscles bunched and relaxed with every step he took further into the darkness.

Terror struck her entire being.

“Where are you taking me?” she exclaimed wiggling in his grip.

“Easy, baby,” he said in a soothing tone that gave her chills.

“Don’t baby me! Let me go this instant or I’ll scream my head off,” she threatened loudly.

He laughed, that sexy sound that had her throbbing in places she’d never throbbed before.

Weird. What the hell was with that?

“Look, Pop Tart, I’m just taking you over to the bar over there.”

She swiveled her head to look behind her. Sure enough, she just barely made out an unlit area a few paces away with barstools.

“I don’t want you to cut your feet on the glass back there. I dropped my bottle of beer when I tried to keep you from hitting the ground. I’ve managed to get good at it since females are always fainting in front of me.”

Abigail scowled at him. He was certainly smug about himself.

“Perhaps if you see a dentist about getting a good prophy for that problem, they might stop swooning.”

He staggered to a halt. It was dark but she could tell he was gaping at her…for all of two seconds before he threw his head back and laughed.

“Shit. You’re a fucking riot, Wasabi.”

Abigail made a face at him. “Why do you keep calling me such strange nick names?”

He finally deposited her upon the cold, smooth bar-top.

Goose bumps immediately covered her entire body. Abigail clutched the bottom of the dress as it rode up her thighs, barely covering her crotch now. Automatically, her shoulders hunched over and she pressed her fists tight against the juncture of her thighs, positive he’d be able to see the scrap of panties she wore.

“I don’t know your name, so I call you whatever inspires me.”

Okay?

Her face flamed and she was reluctant to gaze up at him now that the moon had come out from behind a few dark clouds, bathing everything around them in silver light.

“What is it with you and that dress?’ he murmured, planting his hands on his hips.

“I don’t dress this way—at all. My sister lent me this dress and…and I just hate it,” she finished in a small defeated tone.

He swore softly under his breath. Next thing she knew, he was stripping out of his shirt.

Terror made her bolt off the top of the bar. To her dismay, sliding off the high bar top made the damned dress ride up her ass.

Too late, she also remembered she injured her foot when she slammed it to the ground and red-hot agony zinged up her entire length.

She cried out, her legs giving out beneath her. As she reached down to grip her smarting foot, her face bumped into hard male flesh the same moment his arms went around her again. She gasped and pushed against him. Oh-no. All she could feel was naked man beneath her fingers until she finally crossed her arms over her chest protectively as he held her at arm’s length.

“Hey. What gives?” he asked softly. His head cocked to the side dipping down to look into her face, but she closed her eyes, refusing to look at him. “I’m not going to hurt you. I was just going to give you my shirt so you could cover yourself. See?”

She opened one eye to see him holding out his dark grey shirt to her.

She just stared at it stupidly, trying to keep her eyes from glancing at all that exposed mass of sinewy muscle before her.

Tattoos. His body was a work of art and her eyes were drawn like moths to flame.

God-above…he was beyond beautiful. Michelangelo’s David was a paltry wimp next to this majestic man-god.

He chuckled softly and this time she couldn’t help the shudder that wracked through her.

Shaking out his shirt, he reached for her arms and, as if she were a helpless child, helped her slip into it.

Very nonchalantly, he pulled down the back of her dress, once again covering her goose-pimpled behind.

She still held her injured foot aloft. He noticed and bent to examine it.

Finally, Abigail had no choice but look upon him.

His hair was sleek and blacker than pitch. The thick mane was caught in a tie at the nape of his neck and the ends curled gently just between his shoulder blades. He had wings inked along his back, and with a gasp, she suddenly realized exactly who he was.

He looked up, and she gaped, mute, at the staggering beauty of his face.

“You’re bleeding,” he said with a little frown marring that angelic perfection.

No not angelic, she decided. His eyes were too shrewd, his nose arrow straight and pointed, his lips full and soft looking despite the squared jaw and enigmatic dimple in the center of it. He had a bit of a shadow, as if he’d needed to shave and hadn’t bothered today. His eyes looked silver in the moonlight, fringed by lashes so long they looked like the false ones Mikayla had pasted on back at the mansion.

Mikayla.

Oh-god. This was the man she was having illicit relations with.

One inky brow arched. “Well, this is different,” he muttered staring at her as intently as she stared at him.

It took a while for her lips to form words, and when they did, all she could croak out was a pathetic “w-what?”

He bit his cheeks as if trying not to smile. It didn’t work. Those enigmatic eyes, fringed with ridiculously girly eyelashes, crinkled at the corners.

He rose to his full height, which must have been at least six-foot-two to her measly five-six.

“I’m going to pick you up.”

Panic slammed into her again. “What? Why?”

He raised his hands. “Easy, mouse. I’m going to take you to the bathroom in the pool house and take a look at that foot. It’s bleeding all over this ancient stone floor imported from Romania.”

”Ancient?” she repeated idiotically.

“Very ancient,” he said shifting on his feet.

He’d called her mouse. At least he wasn’t naming her after food items anymore. She wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing.

As she debated the pros and cons to that, he scattered her thoughts again by leaning down and wrapping his arms around her. He swung her up against him effortlessly and stalked farther into the dark gardens beyond the terrace.

His scent invaded her senses. He smelled delicious and she was almost tempted to bury her nose against his neck to sniff at its source.

Yeah, get a grip, Abigail— she mentally chastised herself.

Mentally wracking her brain for something to say to break the awkward silence, she looked around. “Why is it so dark around here?” she asked squinting.

“Trust me… you don’t want to see what’s going on around here.”

Almost on cue, Abigail heard moaning a little off to her right, and the sound of skin slapping against skin.

When she stiffened in Gabriel’s arms, he laughed softly again, making her shiver some more.

“I’m going to have to get you one of my jackets. You keep shuddering from the cold,” he drawled lazily.

Abigail flushed from her roots to her toes. His tone was so suggestive, she knew he knew it wasn’t the cold making her shudder.