His Entertainer

Chapter 11

IVY SILVER POV.

He was a monster, a creature of ice and shadow. An animal. His men, their faces grim and humorless, dragged me like refuse to a gnarled tree at the edge of the garden. Their laughter, cold and cruel, echoed in the crisp morning air as they tore the flimsy spaghetti-strap dress from my body in the blink of an eye. A shiver, raw and primal, ran through me as the cold air bit into my skin. Their eyes, like predatory birds of prey, scanned my body, their gaze a violation as palpable as any physical touch. Eyes don't touch, I thought, yet the weight of their scrutiny felt like a suffocating blanket.

They bound me to the tree, the rough rope biting into my flesh, a promise of increasing discomfort as the hours wore on. I was a slut, a discarded thing, unworthy of choice or mercy. Was this my purpose? Was this all I was meant to be?

The ropes tightened, binding me as if I were some monstrous beast, their cruel efficiency a chilling testament to their experience.

"I wish he'd said we were free to... sample the goods," a man with a jagged scar bisecting his left eyebrow sneered, his index finger tracing a slow, deliberate path across the valley between my breasts.

"Antonio, leave her be. Hermann wouldn't appreciate you defiling his property," another, quieter man said, his voice devoid of any warmth.

His property? The words ignited a spark of defiance within me. I was no one's possession. Not his. Not anyone's. Not until I escaped this nightmare. Wilmert...

"I am not his property," I said, my voice strained, my anger a fragile flame against the overwhelming despair.

"Doesn't look that way," he replied, shaking his head as he turned to leave. "If I were you, I wouldn't cross the most feared Mafia leader... unless you're tired of living."

Mafia leader? The words struck me like a physical blow. Dealers. Criminals. Killers. The horrifying truth crashed over me, a tidal wave of sickening realization. Why hadn't I seen it sooner? The guns, the black gloves, the casual brutality... it all pointed to a horrifying reality. They were a gang, a ruthless syndicate of thugs and killers.

Tears streamed down my face, uncontrolled, unrestrained. My God, what had I done? Genevieve... The thought of her, her carefully constructed façade of warmth and kindness, shattered into a million pieces. She was one of them. She was involved. Did she kill? Was she a drug dealer, too? The horrifying answers circled in my mind, a dizzying carousel of betrayal and fear. This had been her plan all along. She hadn't been my friend. She had set me up. Silvia, Lucy, Sonia... I should have warned them.

But how? I was bound, helpless, a lamb offered to the wolves. Everyone around me was a predator, their eyes hungry, their intentions clear. I hadn't seen it coming. I wish I had.

"Hey," a familiar voice said, a gentle hand resting on my shoulder. Carlos.

"What do you want? Did your Mafia boss send you to finish me off?" I asked, my voice laced with bitter resignation.

"Ivy, I just came to check on you, to see if you're alright," he said, his tone soft, his words a jarring contrast to the chilling reality of my situation.

"Well, you've seen me. Now go," I said, my voice tight with unshed tears.

"You know Hermann isn't as bad as you think," he said, his words a desperate attempt to pierce my despair.

"Oh, really? Leaving me naked and tied to a tree is what good guys do? Wow, what a good guy," I said, the sarcasm dripping from my voice, my tears still flowing.

"Ivy, listen. I've known him for almost a decade," he insisted, his eyes pleading.

"Congratulations!" I yelled, my anger finally erupting.

He looked at me with a mixture of sympathy and something akin to sorrow. I didn't hate Carlos, not really, but the sickening truth was undeniable: he was one of them. He was a killer. He was gentle, caring, funny, and friendly-all the things needed to lure victims into the clutches of the underworld. Genevieve had done the same to me, and countless other girls, God only knew how many.
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GENEVIEVE POV.

My head rested against Norman's chest, his arms a comforting embrace as we drove Hermann to the airport. I'd never felt this much guilt, this much despair. I cursed myself for not protecting Ivy, for allowing her to fall into Hermann's clutches. My heart ached with the weight of her suffering.

"It's going to be alright," Norman whispered, stroking my arm gently. I nodded, closing my eyes, trying to find a sliver of peace in the darkness.

Upon arrival, I broke free from Norman's embrace, rushing towards Hermann as he emerged from a sleek silver Ferrari.

"Sir," I said, my voice urgent, my eyes pleading.

"I'll see you in a few days, Eve. I'll need regular updates," he said, attempting to brush past me.

"Mr. Rodriguez, what about that girl?" I said, blocking his path, my voice laced with desperation.

"Eve, spare me the drama..." he sighed, throwing his arms up in exasperation.

"Sir, please. You humiliated her. She's just a young girl. All she ever wanted was to..." I stopped, realizing I was revealing too much.

"To what?" he asked, his voice sharp, his eyes piercing mine, demanding an answer.

"Nothing, sir. Forget I said anything," I stammered, trying to appear truthful.

"Genevieve," he said, his voice low, his eyes reminding me of the power he held over me. I couldn't lie to him. It was best for Ivy, for all of us.

"...to find her mother, sir," I confessed, the words a physical blow, my heart pounding in my chest.

Silence hung between us, heavy and suffocating. Then, he took a step closer, his touch gentle as he kissed my forehead. "My little Eve... we'll talk when I get back," he said, before walking away.

Is he really going to leave her out there, naked? The thought sent a fresh wave of nausea through me.

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NORMAN FERNANDO POV.

"I need Ivy's full information, discreetly, without Genevieve's knowledge," Hermann said, settling into his seat on the private jet.

"Yes, sir."

"Shoot anyone who even glances at her body, even for a second," he ordered, his voice cold, his eyes blazing with an unsettling intensity.

"But, sir..." I began, but he cut me off.

"That's an order, Norman," he said, his voice laced with warning.

"Yes, sir," I replied, a bitter taste filling my mouth. I was ordered to kill my own men because of a club girl.
A girl tied naked to a tree, and Hermann expected no male eyes to fall upon her, It was madness.
This was going to get bloody.

I stepped off the plane, my gaze falling upon a figure wrapped in a black coat, desperately trying to shield herself from the cold.
Forget Hermann and everything with him. Here's a woman who deserved my protection.

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