Page 103 of Ruining Vanessa

“So what did you do?” Damien asks. “So I know how best to… defuse this situation.”

I’m starting to wish Giulio had stayed home and we’d had the nice dinner together. Even if Giulio and Damien would have wanted to have sex after that, it probably would have been more comfortable than the tension in the room now.

“Maybe Vanessa shouldn’t be here for this,” Slayer hedges, glancing at me.

He’s right. I don’t want to be there for whatever this is. I glance at the bedroom door, where Giulio is doing… something. I’m struck by this strange feeling that I should go to him, even though that feels dangerous. He’s volatile; we all know that. He’s in a mood, and he even blew Damien off—then again, that’s not altogether new.

“I’ll just… go,” I say vaguely, darting out of the kitchen. They barely pay any attention, and as soon as I’m in the hallway, I can hear Slayer start explaining, something about Benton and long car drives.

I stop in front of the door to the nursery. The door is propped open a little, maybe in acknowledgment that it’ll finally get some use. My hand goes to my stomach. It’s still the same it’s always been. Maybe I’m not really pregnant.

All the cravings and morning sickness say otherwise, though.

Even though it’s the safer choice, I don’t enter the nursery. I keep walking until I hit the bedroom, and I carefully push the door open.

Giulio’s on his side on the bed, watching something on his phone. He lifts his head when he notices me and gives me a nasty grin. “Hey, Mama. This is your only warning. Like, you’d be really dumb to come in here, but if you do, you’d better be prepared to deal with me.”

“Are you going to risk hurting the… the baby?” I ask, my voice quiet, uncertain. What the fuck am I thinking? I should just flee. I shouldn’t be in here. It’s stupid, and we both know it’s stupid. But for some reason, I feel drawn to Giulio, and I can’t just leave him in here alone.

He snorts and shakes his head. “Guess not. Come in, shut the door. I’ve got some fun vids to show you.”

That doesn’t bode well. I glance at the door, and I know I should go to the nursery instead. I don’t know why I don’t, why I instead pull the door closed and cross the room to him. “I don’t think I want to watch any videos,” I say carefully, going to sit beside him on the bed. “Especially not if they have you in a mood like this.”

He pulls me down next to him and spoons up against me, trapping me in place. I’m still tense, but he isn’t hard, and that’s a small comfort.

Then he holds up his phone in front of me.

The screen shows a man in his underwear, arms tied, in a basement. There’s a bright blue tarp on the ground.

It takes me a moment, but I recognize him.

It’s Brad.

My blood runs cold. “What did you do?” I ask, my voice strangled and the words coming out strangely. “Giulio… What did you do?”

He kisses the nape of my neck, nibbling at the skin. “He’s a real piece of work. Nicest thing he did for you was break up with you.”

The memory is still tender, like a bruise that hasn’t yet healed, and I wince at the reminder. I still feel a little small, uncertain, and utterly miserable at the memory. My sister had told me something similar, but Brad had been my first.

“Yeah,” I mutter, grabbing Giulio’s wrist and trying to get him to put the phone down. “C’mon, Giulio. We don’t need to talk about him.” I squirm in his arms, turning to face him instead of the phone.

Giulio keeps kissing my neck, and it makes me hopeful that I can distract him with… with my body, at least, but then I hear the phone’s audio start.

“Who’s this chick?”

“V-Vanessa.”

“This is your type?”

“N-no! I—I like girls with bigger tits. More ass.”

I freeze. The words make bile rise up in my throat, and I try to turn back, so I can grab the phone. Giulio’s arms tighten around me, though, keeping me in place so I can’t help but hear every word.

“Yeah? Why even bother with her then?”

“She… She was easy. Desperate.”

Tears start to prickle at the corners of my eyes, and I try to blink them away. “Giulio,” I say hoarsely. I’d expected violence when I’d come in, that he might throw me around a little, that he might fuck me hard. I hadn’t expected this kind of violence that’s somehow every bit as bad as if he’d been physically hurting me. “Why are you making me listen to this?”

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