HIS ENTERTAINER

Chapter 10

         NORMAN FERNANDO POV.

Genevieve's presence at the emergency gathering was a striking contrast to the rough-hewn masculinity of the room. Radiant as ever, she sat beside Hermann, her eyes carefully avoiding mine-a subtle betrayal betrayed by the flicker of something akin to longing in their depths. The desire to pull her into my arms, to taste her lips, to whisper my longing into her ear, was a burning ember in my chest.

"I'll be away for two days. I expect things to run smoothly in my absence," Hermann announced, his gaze sweeping across the faces of his men, each one meeting his intense stare. "Ivy is to be treated with the utmost respect. Protect her with your lives if necessary. Make her comfortable." His voice held the weight of command, the unspoken threat of his displeasure hanging heavy in the air. "Any questions?" He leaned back, a deceptively relaxed posture belying the steel in his eyes.

A sea of unspoken questions filled the room, yet none dared to voice their concerns.

"Good. Norman and Genevieve will be in charge. I expect absolute obedience," Hermann stated, his voice hardening. Genevieve's barely perceptible eye roll didn't escape my notice. I knew exactly what she was thinking, and I relished the thought of her eventual submission.

"If there are no further questions, you may dismiss," he said, his voice devoid of warmth. The men rose, some heading for the kitchen, others dispersing to their assigned posts.

Hermann and Genevieve rose together, their murmured conversation barely audible, yet the sudden downturn of Genevieve's lips was unmistakable.

I approached them. "I want that son of a bitch's head on a golden platter when I return," Hermann ordered, his voice low and menacing. I nodded, my own silent promise echoing his words. He turned and ascended the stairs.
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     HERMANN RODRIGUEZ POV.

I opened the bedroom door to find her asleep, cocooned in a heavy blanket as if anticipating a predatory attack. I moved slowly, carefully, unwilling to disturb her refuge. Gently, I eased the blanket away, revealing her peaceful slumber. If she thought the blanket was a shield against me, she was sorely mistaken. I would have taken her if I'd wanted to. There was no need for stealth.

Once she was settled comfortably, I stepped back, quietly closing the curtains before heading to the bathroom. The cold water shocked me awake, the chill a stark contrast to the simmering rage within me. I showered, the cleansing water doing little to wash away the grim anticipation of the journey ahead.

Prepared for the descent into hell, uncertain if I would return without my father's head, I sat on the edge of the bed, a silver pistol resting in my hand, the smoke from my cigarette a hazy veil around me.

"You're still here?" Her voice, soft yet clear, broke through my thoughts. I exhaled a plume of smoke. "If I may ask, where are you going?"

"It's none of your concern," I replied, my tone clipped, avoiding unnecessary cruelty, yet firm in my dismissal.

"Well, if you're going to keep me here, at least be civil," she retorted, her voice rising slightly.

I stood, shoving the gun into my waistband, my gaze unwavering. "As I said, it's none of your concern." The warning in my voice was unmistakable.

She met my gaze, her eyes blazing with defiance, devoid of fear. Who dared to meet my gaze with such audacious bravery?

"I command you to bow your head before me," I said, my voice dripping with the chilling authority that silenced all who heard it.

"I will never bow to you. You are no God," she replied, her defiance unwavering.

"You are both brave and foolish to defy me," I said, taking two strides towards her.

I grasped her hair, pulling her head back, my lips close to her ear. She whimpered, a hiss of pain escaping her lips.

"A simple apology, my dear, and all will be forgiven," I whispered, my words a cruel mockery of mercy as she struggled desperately against my hold.

"Fuck you," she spat, her eyes blazing with pure, unadulterated fury.

Fuck me? Did she dare?

"No, love. Fuck you," I whispered, dragging her from the bed. Her struggles only tightened my grip.

"Let me go!" she screamed as I dragged her down the stairs. Genevieve and Norman were still there, but I paid them no mind. I stormed out, pulling her roughly behind me.

"Eve... Eveeeeee!" Her cries echoed behind me, but I ignored them. I felt Genevieve's approach, her frantic calls of "Sir, please..."

I threw her to the ground like a discarded rag doll, blood trickling from a wound on her forehead.

"Listen, darling, I truly don't want to do this. Just apologize, and everything will be fine," I said, my voice devoid of warmth, my words a cruel parody of kindness.

"You're an animal!" she hissed, her eyes filled with pure hatred and disgust.

Animal? She sleeps in my bed, wears my clothes, and this is her response?

Let me show her what an animal truly is.

A chilling smirk played on my lips as Genevieve reached her, her hands outstretched in a desperate plea for mercy. I knew my eyes held no compassion.

"Let me show you how an animal treats those who trespass on its territory," I said, my voice laced with sarcasm.

"Sir, please..." Genevieve begged, her voice trembling, her eyes welling with tears.

"Strip her naked. Tie her up outside, no food or water until I return," I ordered, my gaze fixed on Genevieve's fear-filled eyes. "And let it be known: any disobedience will be met with swift and brutal punishment. I will have your heads chopped off and fed to the alligators," I warned, my voice dripping with menace, before turning and leaving them in stunned silence, Genevieve's sobs the only sound.

She will learn to respect me. This is only the beginning.

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