Page 38 of Ruthless Boss

He grabs a sheet and flings it over me like my nakedness offends him. The smooth fabric hangs above my chest. If I breathe deep enough, it’ll dip down and expose my breasts. A convenient piece of information.

I sure don’t have too many tricks up my sleeve.

“What happens next?” I ask, avoiding the question of why he fucked me.

He sits on the edge of the bed. “Until you tell me about Ross, I can’t let you go.”

“I don’t know jack about Ross. Ciro never discussed work with me, and I preferred it that way.”

“Why didn’t you leave him?” He asks the same question I’ve asked myself one too many times.

I could have, couldn’t I? I wasn’t shackled to a chair.

A mix of regret and shame fills my chest. Time was what it took for me to grow up overnight and understand my options. It took even longer to overcome fear. Hell, I’m still overcoming it, and I left him months ago. “I married him because I thought that was the right thing to do for my mom. She was married to his dad and somewhat happy. I thought Ciro was a good guy. Well… I learned quickly after honeymoon that wasn’t the case.”

He sends me an apologetic look, and I appreciate that small gesture of kindness.

“Then I feared him. I feared what he could do if I tried to leave. One day, his dad came over and tried to rape me.”

He raises an eyebrow. “What?”

“Yeah. Aroldo was drunk. Oh, what a surprise. He’d never tried anything with me before that day… Of course, he creeped me out. His hug always lasted a bit longer than necessary. His eyes were always on me. He was bigger than me, so when he shoved me onto a bed, I did the only thing I could—grabbed the bottle of beer on Ciro’s side and smashed it over his head. I got him distracted and slammed it against him, over and over, until he died,” I say, running the play-by-play in my head. “Ciro came home right after and yelled at me, and at that point, I knew it was do or die. I launched myself at him with a broken bottle and shoved it in his eye. I left with the little money I had and ran. And ran.”

“Gia…”

“All I wanted was a new beginning,” I say, tears forming in my eyes. I can’t wipe them away with my hand or a napkin. I have to understand they’re meant to come out, and I can’t hide anymore.

Different images flash in my mind.

Ciro slapping me across the face in the kitchen because he was let go from yet another job.

Ciro pushing me into the kitchen island, whispering all he’d do to me later—not sexual stuff.

Ciro slamming my body against the wall, yelling at me, his face twisted in rage and deception.

“You’re right. I didn’t leave soon enough. Maybe if I had, I wouldn’t have had to kill someone,” I whisper.

Tears now fill my field of vision, and the more they fall down my cheeks, the quicker they multiply, like on repeat. I sob, my nose stuffy, my head hanging down. I don’t want Dante to see me like this—I don’t want to see me like this, which is why I avoided thinking for so long. Reliving. Remembering.

I sob, the sound loud, haunted, pained. I no longer care. I may die—maybe not by Dante, but by one of his brothers or an employee doing his job. I don’t want to die without acknowledging what I’ve done and, most importantly, what was done to me.

I can’t see Dante’s face.

I hear him move, his steps on the ground. Then, I feel the weight of his knee on the mattress as he says, “Fuck it,” and reaches for my cuffs, finally setting me free.

21

Dante

I uncuff her and pull her into my arms. My heart is pumping a mix of emotions—anger, regret, and a warm feeling I don’t want to uncover. Releasing her from the handcuffs complicates things, yet it doesn’t change them. She told me she was in chaos. I should have believed her.

Gia still can’t leave the room, nor should she. It’s not safe for her anywhere but with me.

I can’t trust her without me by her side. Her psycho ex could show up, or Rocco could snitch on me to Massimo and create a problem with dangerous consequences.

So I hug her tight and kiss the top of her head. Her arms are limp at her sides, and a twinge of guilt stabs me. She must be tired—from being in the same position for hours, from the sex, from everything… but mostly from not knowing what happens next.

Damn. If only she could give me any piece of information to help us find Ross Santini… that’d get Rocco off my back. Even Massimo wouldn’t make a big deal.

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