Episode 4

Chapter 3

Her eyes were red, her face swollen; Cintia hadn't slept that night, fearing the fateful destiny awaiting her. She dressed in one of her most discreet outfits: the pastel-toned, ankle-length skirt was two sizes too big for her; it didn't accentuate her curves or add to her beauty, just like the white, collared t-shirt. Her face was clean, without any makeup—choices that gave her an erroneous idea of security and, in truth, added to her angelic image what her tormentor most venerated: "Purity."

If there was one thing Cintia learned in her five years at boarding school, it was that men could be malicious, and that any slip in conduct, however small, could give them an erroneous impression of license.

Cintia was an exceedingly beautiful young woman; nothing she did could change that. Even though she didn't know Estefano D'Avila's intentions in seeing her, her insides screamed in despair, anguished and fearful that something bad would happen to her.

"We're leaving now, Madur."

She walked down the stairs with a neutral expression and sad eyes. The butler didn't say a single word. Cintia got into the car; the imported vehicle parked in front of a luxurious hotel in an affluent area of Istanbul.

"Can you come with me to the lobby? My legs won't obey me; I need help, Madur."

The old man got out of the car, his chest tight at seeing the girl he had watched grow up, now forced to pay for her father's mistakes. Madur offered her his arm; Cintia clung to him, needing to stop more than once along the way. Her legs trembled, and she didn't understand why. She didn't know Estefano, nor did she even know what he wanted. She held back her tears, frightened because, however uncertain her father's business dealings were, she had never imagined having to get directly involved with a criminal like him. Cintia entered the hotel; except for a young woman at the reception desk, the lobby was empty.

"Good morning."

The woman looked at her with a smile.

"How can I help you, miss?"

Cintia looked at Madur, her pale face blushing abruptly.

"I'm here to see a guest. He's in the penthouse. His name is Estefano D'Avila."

The smile on the receptionist's face gave way to an expression of pity. She had seen Estefano around the place, and the rumors were that, besides being dangerous, he beat his women.

"How old are you, miss?"

"Sixteen. I'll be seventeen in three months."

The woman ran a hand through her hair, looked at the manager who, at that moment, was already silently reprimanding her.

"Is there a problem, Sanem?"

She stepped away, whispered something to the man who immediately looked at Cintia. He gestured irritably, causing the woman to cringe. When she left the reception desk, she was crying.

"I apologize, miss. The receptionist is new; she doesn't know Mr. D'Avila, and that's why she took a while to assist you. I ask that you not mention this incident to him."

Cintia looked at Madur and nodded silently.

"I'll call the elevator for you, miss."

"That's not necessary; my butler will do it."

The man adjusted his suit jacket.

"I'm very sorry, but the orders are for you to go up alone."

Cintia looked terrified at the butler; seeing the concern in his eyes, she took a deep breath.

"It's alright, Madur. I'll go alone."

She followed the hotel manager in silence, entered the elevator, and watched the buttons light up on each floor as if it were torture. The doors opened; the sense of imminent danger whispered in her ear. She looked over her shoulder, staring at the empty hallway. Cintia stopped in front of the door. When she knocked, her heart pounded in her chest as if it intended to break through.

"Come in."

The hoarse, heavy voice echoed like a deafening thunderclap. Cintia touched the doorknob, trembling all over.

"M-Mr. Estefano."

She said, freezing right in the middle of the room. The enormous man was smoking on the balcony; he turned, imposing his presence on her. Estefano was shirtless; his bare back exposed a tattoo that covered it entirely. For every step he took toward Cintia, she took one in the opposite direction. Cintia backed against the wall, cornered. When Estefano's muscular arms touched the wall, one on each side of her face, she knew. She knew exactly what that man's intentions were. Cintia looked at him, her two honey-colored eyes drowning in tears. Estefano smiled; the fear, the desperation in Cintia's eyes, almost brought him to orgasm.

"Did you dress like a fucking nun intending to turn me off, child?"

He guffawed. Estefano moved closer, sniffed the perfume she wore, growling in her ear.

"If that was the idea, it failed miserably. I'm so hard right now I could break you in half; I'd fuck you on this floor in every position I know."

Cintia tried to leave; he held her tightly.

"Do it. Walk out that door, and I swear by the God I don't believe in but you adore, I'll rip Nazir's head off and do the same to that old man who follows you. Is he waiting for you out there?"

Cintia cowered against the wall, hugging her knees, terrified.

"What do you want from me?"

She watched him move away, walk to the middle of the room.

"I don't know you. What can I give you besides what you've obviously already stolen?"

"I'm not a thief, girl. Money is the least of my problems. You may not believe it, but I have much, much more than your father, so don't talk nonsense."

Estefano crouched down in front of her. Cintia didn't remember him, but unlike her, he hadn't forgotten a single day since they'd seen each other in the office.

"I heard Nazir is in a coma, that he's vegetating in a bed."

Cintia cried, wiped her tears.

"Papa is between life and death because of you. He shouldn't have had three transplants in such a short time."

Cintia averted her gaze, shrinking further against the wall; she was afraid.

"Yes, and the fact that none of the hearts they put in his chest were compatible must have worsened the problem."

Cintia stared at him in panic.

"What?"

He touched her face, traced Cintia's lips with his thumb.

"What you heard. None of the three transplanted hearts were compatible."

"Why would you do that?"

She cried even louder. Estefano smiled, stood up, looking firmly at her.

"I'm a businessman. The organ Nazir needs, I've saved for a special occasion. I'll trade it for something much more valuable, something only you can offer, child."

Cintia looked at him, confused, a mixture of fear and anger.

"What? What do you want?"

"You. For me to devour whenever and however I want, Cintia. A whore all to myself, for me to fuck your mouth, your cunt, your ass, until I get sick of you... I don't like to share my things, so the idea of having a private prostitute pleases me."

She stood up, hit him repeatedly, punching Estefano's chest, but he didn't move.

"Finished?"

A smile spread across his face; he seemed satisfied to see her despair, her fear, her anger.

"I would never do that. I'm not that kind of girl."

"So Nazir was mistaken?"

Cintia looked at him, confused.

"He said you would do anything to save him."

She put her hands to her head, her heart shattered in her chest.

"Papa..."

"Only you can save him. Spread your legs for me, nymphet. Let me fuck you until it no longer satisfies me. In exchange..."

Cintia cried, closed her eyes when he lightly touched her cheek.

"I'll give your father the heart he needs."