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He leaned his shoulder against the doorframe and crossed his arms over his massive chest as I went about my nightly routine. “This isn’t anger,” He said after a while. “I’ve seen your anger, and this isn’t it.”
“Well, the designer clothes in the closet disagree.” I snarked back before drowning my face under the faucet and scrubbing the makeup off that I painstakingly applied hours ago to look good for him. Like a stupid foolish girl.
I washed my face until it was raw, and I had no choice but to come up for air and face him again. When I patted the skin dry I caught his reflection in the mirror, still standing exactly as he had been, and for some reason that frustrated me further. “What do you want?” I snapped.
“To understand you.”
“Why?” I turned and put my hand on my hip, “Why do my emotions or feelings matter? You’ve made your intentions clear. I understand exactly where I stand, and I’ll be sure not to forget it again.” I flicked my hand, “So go on. Go back to your important boy's club downstairs and just leave me alone.”
He moved quickly for such a large man, crossing the space in a few effortless steps leaving me no exit from the room that didn’t involve getting past him. I stood my ground leaning up off the counter and faced him head-on.
He wrapped his hand around my neck and pushed me until my back pressed flat against the wall. His nostrils flared and his chest rose and fell quickly as he silently stared down at me.
But I wasn’t afraid. My life was already in his hands before he physically wrapped his hand around my neck in domination.
“Should I start calling you Daddy?” I asked defiantly, “I feel like I’m right back inside of the Rosetti familial residence.”
His hand tightened around my throat until I could feel the blood beginning to pool in my face as he restricted its flow. “I never wanted your anger, Little One.”
“No, we both know you just wanted my body.” I hissed, “Would you prefer me to just lay on my back in the center of your bed and remain silent and still while you fuck me? Or perhaps bent over so you don’t have to see the disgust I feel for you in my eyes while you rut into me. Would that be easier for you? It must be such hard work being a rapist.”
“Fuck you.” He growled, shaking me slightly and bouncing my skull off the wall. It didn’t hurt, and I knew he was restraining his true anger. “You’re just like your father, yet you spit your accusations at me.” He leaned down until his face was right in front of mine so I could feel the heat of his breath on my face. “That Rosetti blood is just as toxic as I knew it was. Even if I was a sweet and doting husband, your shrewdness and manipulative streak would still cut me.”
“Get off of me.” I shoved at him, trying to dislodge him as his hand tightened even more around my neck. He restricted not only the blood to my brain, but now my breath. “Do it.” I whispered, “End it all. Prove you’re the big man here.”
“I don’t have to kill you to prove I’m the bigger monster here, Ari.” He hissed, against my lips, “But I will kill your darling brother for the fun of it. And then you’ll never doubt it again.”
I reacted violently, shoving, scratching, clawing, and kicking at him as his hand cut off my breath completely. I hit him in his face over and over, but my hands bounced off and he never flinched as my vision darkened and my lungs screamed for air.
His green eyes were the last thing I saw before darkness took me completely.
Chapter 10 – Nico
“Youcan’tdothis!”The bitch in front of me screamed, hurling anything she could get her hands on my way.
Nothing hit its mark, and Matteo quickly had her subdued. Ropes tied her wrists behind her back and her ankles together, and a rag from her shitty kitchen was shoved into her mouth to silence her protests.
“Finally.” I sighed, “Silence.”
Her husband lay in a heap at my feet, barely conscious and bleeding from a deep gut wound that he got for trying to run when we broke in.
Coward.
“Now,” I turned to where the three sons of the bastard coward sat along the wall, watching their father bleed out and their mother fight her bindings with more fire than all three of them had in their guts put together. “Which one of you is the oldest?”
The three of them remained silent before finally, one raised his hand, “I am, Mr. Capasso.”
“Your name?” I motioned for him to stand up.
“Anthony.”
“How old are you, Anthony?”
“Twenty-three.”
“Good,” I responded and put my hand on his shoulder. “Old enough to do what is necessary of you, but young enough to still learn how to do things the right way.” I looked down at my feet, “Unlike your father here.”
The kid swallowed but kept his eyes on me, “Yes, Sir.”
