Page 57 of Devil's Tulip

Then I turn to check out my scalp and clumsily place a bandage over the wound.

Afterwards, I finally look at my reflection, turning my face this way and that. My lip is split and red, finger-shaped splotches mar my skin—marks that will no doubt darken into purplish bruises by tomorrow.

Tomorrow.

When Uncle Aldo plans to marry me off to Carlo, who I strongly believe will be worse than my cousin and uncle combined.

I let out a shaky sigh as I glance down at the rest of my body before giving the mirror my back and leaving the bathroom. Pulling a nightshirt from my drawer, I ease it on carefully, biting the inside of my cheek when the fabric brushes over a tender spot. Then I lower myself onto the bed with another weary exhale, my body screaming in discomfort even as exhaustion tugs at me.

My backpack is still in Michael’s car. Which means all the money I worked so hard for is gone. Not that my uncle would have let me keep it if he discovered it anyway.

What a long fucking day…

Was it really only this morning I seduced Michael and we almost had sex? Thank God I insisted on him using a condom nomatter how tempted I was to forgo it. Because if we had actually gone through with it, I’d have to worry about being pregnant on top of everything else. Uncle Aldo would kill me.

I shudder.

I can’t believe I thought Michael was different from the other men in my life. I can’t believe I almost fell for him.

My eyes start to sting, and I sniff aggressively.No. No, I’m not going to cry, goddamn it. But the ache in my chest is ten thousand times worse than any pain Dario or my uncle could inflict on my body.

I was so stupid, sostupid.

I should have known he was in the mafia, with all his stupid tattoos and piercings and the fact that he could kill a man so nonchalantly—how did I not see it?

His words come back to me hauntingly,‘There’s nothing he can do to me.’

I should have realized then. No ordinary man can be so fearless in the face of my uncle’s wrath.

So he possibly has a high rank in the syndicate. Maybe something to do with the Nightshades? Now that I think about it, the de-facto head of the Nightshades is someone named Rafael.

Is that the same Rafael we went to meet today?

Michael said it’s his friend, but… could he be his boss?

The pain in Michael’s eyes as the elevators closed flashes in my mind.Could he have had no choice?

I roll onto my side, wincing but embracing the physical pain over the emotional one. “No, Gianna. What you’re not going to do is create excuses for a man who’s already proven with his actions that he doesn’t give a shit about you.”

The monster who found you.

Why did Uncle Aldo call him that? Is Michael the one they referred to as the Mad Hatter? His last name is Hart, so that would check out, I guess.

He should have brought me back to Manhattan that very first night he saved me. Why did he have to give me hope? What is he, a sadist?

Is he really a monster?

“Get the fuck out of my head, Michael,” I grit out, flipping onto my back with another sharp wince.

Staring up at the ceiling, I start counting sheep aloud, forcing his face, his voice, his goddamn everything out of my head.

He can go to hell.

I’m sure he’ll feel right at home there, with all the other demons.

I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I know, I’m being shaken awake. My whole body screams in protest, and I groan, slapping away the intrusive hand. “That hurts, Michael.”

“Miss! You must wake up now, miss.”

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