Page 37 of Sweet Retribution

I tuck my feet under my ass so he can see I have no plans on obeying his obnoxious commands.

“Girl,” Sebastiana whispers. “He’s pissed. You should go.”

It’s the first time I register real concern on Sebastiana’s face. She’s not one to talk back to Stone, but she doesn’t cower at his commands either.

“Hi, Gia. Can I speak with you for a moment? Please?” I say, tossing him a flirty blink and a fake smile. He doesn’t get the hint, or rather he chooses not to speak to me in a way I request.

The vein that sometimes scares me and sometimes intrigues me pops on his forehead. Even under the scrutiny of Lorenzo and his men a few weeks ago, the vein didn’t appear. He maintains so much control of his emotions, except around me.

I don’t know if I should take pride in that or worry.

“No need to pause it. I’ve seen it a million times,” I say to Sebastiana as I unfold my legs and take my time to meet Stone at the door.

He grabs my elbow roughly and practically drags me down the hall and to his office. He slams the door behind us.

“Don’tevergo in that room again.”

“Excuse me?” I fold my arms across my chest.

“Don’t.”

“What the hell is wrong with you? It’s a living room, and the only room in your fancy prison that isn’t stuffy. I’m tired of being cooped up in my room, the kitchen or outside. It was nice to stretch out on a comfortable chair for once.”

“That room is not for you.” His chest rises and falls in angry breaths.

“I’m stuck with the boring living rooms? There aren’t even televisions or books in there.”

“I’ll get one.”

I don’t care about a television. I care about Stone’s odd behavior. “What’s wrong with the other room? Why can Sebastiana go in there but I can’t?”

He clenches his jaw and turns from me, going to his bar to pour himself a drink. He shoots back the glass of whiskey and slams his tumbler on the bartop.

“Because I said.”

“No.”

“Yes.” He crosses the room in two long strides and looms over me. His breath is hot and sweet, smelling of whiskey, as he grits through his teeth. “That room is not foryou.”

“Why?” I won’t leave without an explanation.

Stone must sense that because he takes a breath and pierces me with his stare. “Because it’s where I fuck my whores.”

I squeeze my arms tighter around my torso as my brain processes what he’s said. No wonder I haven’t been privy to the space. I should be relieved he doesn’t consider me a whore, but the fact that he has a designated room for such activities repulses me.

“Do you want to be one of my whores, Gia?”

I slap him. “You’re a pig.”

He barely reacts to my slap moving slowly to rub his cheek where my hand came in contact. “I’ve never denied that.”

Knowing he’s a manwhore is one thing, seeing where he does his... business is another.

I have no words, nothing I want to say to him. I blink back my unwanted tears and flee his office, taking refuge in my bedroom.

My room used to make me feel boxed in. Now I find comfort in it. I go to my favorite chair in the corner of the balcony and draw my knees to my chest.

I shouldn’t be upset. Stone doesn’t want me near his whorehouse. That’s fine with me. I should be thankful he doesn’t consider me in the same category as the women he has sex with before he tosses them aside.

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