Page 25 of Passion and Revenge

An ear-splitting scream tears through the air just as I fire. She squeezes her eyes shut, and her face drains of all color.

“Now,” I say in a voice dripping with annoyance, “are you going to sit down or not?”

Her lashes flutter open, and those big hazel eyes meet mine for a second before sliding to the hole in the wall barely an inch from her head. When her eyes meet mine again, I almost smile at the soul-deep terror in her gaze.

Sienna has just realized what I am. Not Vincent, the wealthy businessman who has an eye for art. Not the stranger who fascinates her.

I’m something else.

Danger.

She staggers to the second chair and drops into it, her gaze never leaving mine.

“W—who are you?” she croaks, her lips trembling.

“I’m your destruction,” I tell her. “But to others, I’m Alessandro Mancini.”

Her complexion goes bone white, and I narrow my eyes at her. “You know who I am.” It’s not a question but a statement. From the way she’s now trembling, it’s obvious she knows something.

Her head moves imperceptibly up and down in a slight nod.

“Oh?” This is going to be more fun than I thought. “What is it that you know?”

“That you’re a monster,” she spits. “Do you plan to kill me?”

Anger bubbles to the surface, and only my years of keeping myself under control stop me from hunting her father down and blowing his brains out.

Ivan D’Addario is the real monster in this story, but then again, it’s a good thing I don’t mind being the bad guy. I’m not a good man by any definition of the word, so in a way, I’m exactly the monster she accuses me of being.

“Where will the fun be in that?” I ask. “I don’t plan on killing you if you don’t give me a reason to. Do you know what that means? It means you have to do exactly what I say you should do, exactly when I say you should do it. If I say jump, you ask how high.”

“My father won’t let you get away with this,” she growls, full of fake bravado.

“No one will ever find you here,” I tell her honestly. Not only is there no evidence that this building belongs to me, but I also made sure to leave nothing that can trace me back here.

There are only three people in the world who know this place exists—oh wait, make that two. One became shark food earlier today.

“My father?—”

“Do not mention him again,” I snarl, “or you’ll be entirely responsible for his untimely death.”

She freezes. “Impossible. You can’t harm him. If you could, you would have done it a long time ago.”

“I don’t just want to kill Ivan D’Addario. I want him to die the most excruciating death on earth. A death that is worse than any torture I could ever come up with, and trust me, I’ve had time to think up a ton of creative tortures.” My gaze flicks down to where her hands have a death grip on the arms of the chair. “And I’ve ultimately decided that the best suffering for your father is death by grief.”

“W—what?” she stammers. “What does that mean?”

“It means your dear father is going to die slowly. He’ll go insane trying to find you, and I’ll make sure to taunt him with his failure till all he can see, think, breathe, and hear is his own impotence in protecting the person he cares the most about.” I cross my legs. “All while you stay in this fortress and wither away with the knowledge that you have played your own part in being his downfall.”

She jumps to her feet, hands fisted at her side. “You can’t do this! My father is a good man. What has he ever done to you?”

“Sit down, Sienna,” I tell her impassively, “If you get up again, I’ll toss you into the closet, and you’ll spend the next few months in the dark.”

“Months,” she repeats slowly in a rasp. “Oh God.”

Then she does the most foolish thing ever. She races to the glass and starts banging again.

“Help me! Help me! Somebody help, please,” she wails.

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