Page 14 of Brutal Husband

Mom jerks back, her expression outraged. “To my own daughter? After the humiliation she caused me today? I will do no such thing.”

Nero seizes Mom by the throat and squeezes so hard her eyes bulge. She scrabbles at his wrist, desperately trying to make him let go.

I gasp and start to get to my feet, but Nero waves me down again.

He drags her closer and seethes, “Apologize to your daughter, or I will strangle the fucking life out of you. This is not a game. I am not playing.”

A distant, loyal part of me wants to tell Nero to stop hurting Mom, but the rest of me is too tired and sore to move.

Mom glares, still fighting against him.

“You don’t seem to understand who I am and how angry you’ve made me. I’m Nero Lombardi. My bride is unhappy. My bride is hurt. It’s your fault, and if you don’t apologize right this second, I will kill you here and now, and your corpse will be picked at by scavengers on the seabed.”

As he speaks, his fingers squeeze tighter and tighter until Mom’s face turns from red to purple and her anger changes to fear.

“I’m—I’m—” Mom wheezes. He lessens his grip a fraction, and she’s able to say, “I’m sorry, Rieta.”

Nero releases Mom with a shove that makes her stagger. He turns away from her and comes over to me, picking me up and holding me in his arms.

“You will never be lost in the dark ever again,cara mia. I will always find you.”

I cling to him with all my strength. I don’t ever want to let go. The warmth of his body banishes the icy chill of the basement. We’re not even technically engaged, and he came to my rescue. He was worried about me, and thank goodness he was, or I would have been locked in that basement all night. Maybe all day as well.

Nero carries me upstairs to bed, tucking the blankets carefully around me. He presses a soft kiss to my lips, and then another between my brows.

“I will see you soon,cara mia. We have many things to discuss.”

Downstairs in the hall, I hear him addressing Mom. “Listen to me, you spiteful bitch. Until Rieta’s mine, I’ll be watching you. Treat your daughter with kindness and respect or I’ll make you pay in blood. Disobey me, and you won’t fucking like what I’ll do to you.”

When I come downstairsin the morning, Nero’s threats to Mom are ringing in my ears. I thought I’d feel terrible if anyone ever threatened my family because of me, but I’m strangely calm about the previous night’s events. If Nero hadn’t come, I’d still be in the basement this morning, bleeding and having screamed myself hoarse. When Mom finally let me out, I probably would have been grateful.Grateful. How pathetic is that?

But Nero’s anger for me has put everything in a new light.

Mom is alone in the kitchen. Her eyes are bloodshot and puffy, and there are dark fingertip bruises around her throat.

I eat cereal and drink a cup of black coffee. Mom doesn’t say a word to me, and she won’t even look at me, but she does bang her cup and spoon hard on the counter when she puts them down, and her mouth is tight with anger.

In the bathroom, I examine myself in the mirror. There are shallow cuts on my forehead at the hairline, not deep enough that they won’t heal on their own, but painful and raw-looking. I peel the bandages from my fingertips, clip my broken, jagged nails, and then bandage them up again. My complexion is pale, and there are dark circles beneath my eyes. I won’t be going anywhere for a few days.

I spend the time in my room reading, and I eat by myself in the kitchen after everyone’s gone to bed. I expect Nero to call me or drop in to see how I’m doing. He doesn’t.

Four days later, my hands start to look normal again, and if I sweep my hair across my forehead, the cuts at my hairline won’t show. I’ve had plenty of time to think about my future these past few days, and I’ve formulated a plan that’s just for me.

I don’t need to please Mom. I don’t need to wait for Nero either.

As I eat breakfast, Mom reads on her phone, pretending I’m not there. I wait until I’ve rinsed my dishes and put them in the dishwasher before I speak.

“I’m going out,” I say casually, but I’m watching Mom like a hawk.

Normally such a statement would be met by rapid-fire questions. Where am I going? Who with? Do I think that’s appropriate? Why can’t I just stay home? Do I have to be such a shameful daughter and parade myself about in public?

Mom opens her mouth but seems to think better of what she was going to say. Without looking up from her phone, she mutters, “If you say so, darling.”

A sense of satisfaction washes over me. Nero’s made Mom as meek as a kitten.

As I leave the kitchen, she calls after me in a cold voice, “Remember this, Rieta. It’s not your kind, loving mother who keeps you in line now. If you continue to act out, you may wish that it was. Your future husband has a short fuse and a nasty temper.”

“He’s not my future husband, remember? Right now, he’s not my future anything. Besides, I don’t believe Nero would ever lay a finger on me.”

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