Page 50 of Ruthless Boss

He lowers my pants slowly as his eyes scan me. I suck in my breath, horrified. He hasn’t tried to touch me since he barged into my life again. I believed him when he said he was disgusted. What does that mean? What changed his mind?

“You know,” he says, touching me between my legs.

I wish I weren’t spread-eagled on this rickety bed.

I tense up so much that the cramp in my legs reaches the limit of my pain tolerance.

“Would be a shame not to have a little reunion. See what you learned from that motherfucker.”

My eyes widen, and I shake my head violently. No. No, no, no. I found solace in thinking Ciro was too pissed at me to want to fuck me. After all, it’s not like we had much sex when we were married, even during those fleeing moments we somewhat got along. Fucking me now isn’t about pleasure, though. It’s about power.

“Don’t worry, sweetie, I’ll go easy on you. Don’t want to get any blood on me.”

He takes off his shirt and flings it across the room. Then, he turns his attention to me and runs his fingers down my face. Every inch that he touches bristles.Invisible knots of nausea form in my stomach, getting tighter the lower his hand goes.

I don’t want him to touch me.

I want him to die.

If he touches me, I want to die before.

I hate him.

This is it. Even if he doesn’t kill me now, if he forces himself on me, I’ll be dead forever.

Overcoming the crap he put me through has been hard enough, with memories from our marriage flashing when I least expect. But thanks to Dante, to working for him, to spending time with his daughter, to falling for him… I surprisingly got better.

But now…

I shake my head violently, closing my eyes. A beat later, I feel his clammy fingers on my skin as he opens my eyes against my consent—only the beginning of what he’ll do without my consent.

“You’ll want to watch this,” he says, and his voice chills me to the bone.

Oh, God.

I’d rather die.But you can’t die,a small voice inside me pleads. I have to fight back, regardless of the consequences.

Anger builds inside me. Adrenaline replaces the exhaustion and body aches, and I know I have to do something. Retaliating may be dumb, and it may speed up my death, but I don’t care anymore. I’m tired of taking it.

Sweat slides down my forehead. Courage pumps in my veins, and I gather all the strength I have left and butt my head into his. Hard.

“Motherfucking bitch!” His scream fills the air, and I hear him bumping into the nightstand. “Bitch!” he repeats louder.

My head hurts like it’s been hit by a brick. I know I’m going to pay for this, but I don’t care. Apparently, neither does he, as he screams louder again. Maybe someone will hear us. Dots cross my field of vision, and I blink violently. I bite so hard into the gag that I’m afraid my teeth will shatter.

“You’ll pay for that,” he says, squinting. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he blinks and walks toward me.

I gird my loins, quivering. I couldn’t scream or throw objects at him, but at least I did something. Maybe he’ll kill me sooner or hurt me deeper. But I’m going to die, anyway.

I see the rage in his eyes. He gazes at me like a predator about to kill its prey. The last look before a pounding. Bastard.

Blood drips from my forehead, sliding down my nose.

A lump of regret forms in my core, tying itself into a painful knot. I’ll never see Dante again or hold AJ in my arms. It’s gone, and there’s no turning back.

I groan—a sound of defeat. He leans closer, the scent of sweat and cigarettes reeking from him. “That’s better,” he says, touching my neck.

A shiver trickles down my spine. My poor, achy spine.

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