Page 71 of Curse

Emily? Heir to the throne? What throne? This man sounds delusional.

“Well, heir to the throne since Franco came to work with us and became my Bellamorte dog.”

Aurelio sighs and taps his cigar ash onto my leg, and I flinch.

“But he turned out to be adito nel culo, so, eh. And now he is probably dead. Which makes you the last of your line. Did you know that? You are the last Bellamorte.”

He’s not wrong about one thing. Franco is absolutely a pain in the ass. He wasn’t dead the last time I saw him, but I notice with a small amount of interest that I don’t care if he is. The world would be better off without him, especially if he’s working with this fucker.

But all this ‘last of your line’ and ‘heir to the throne’ business—I have no idea what he’s talking about.

Aurelio absentmindedly uses the butt of the cigar to rub the ash into my skin. “Do you know what Demonio means,piccolina?”

I do, but I don’t move, every ounce of my attention on the burning red ember at the end of his cigar and its proximity to the soft, sensitive skin of my inner thighs.

“Demon. Demonio means demon. We are all demons here. My sons, Vincenzo and Tommaso, they are demons. Your Matteo, I raised him to be a demon. And me, I am King of the Demons. But you… Your blood is the blood of the cursed. No escape for you or any of you Bellamortes. Your father, your sister, probably your brother. And soon, you. You live—and you will die—under a curse.”

The world tilts as Aurelio steps closer, his voice dropping to a sinister growl.

“Open your legs,puttana,” he snaps, his demeanor shifting to raw aggression as he jams the cigar into the apex of my thighs. “You whore for Matteo, you will now whore for me.”

I freeze, bile rising again. My ankles are tied to the plank, so I couldn’t do more than open my knees if I wanted to. When I don’t move, his mild expression is replaced by an evil sneer. He yanks the cigar away, flips it, and presses the red tip into my hip.

“OPEN!”

I shriek into the gag and do my best to jerk away from him, the ropes tying me to the plank cutting into my ankles and wrists.

Aurelio yanks my knees apart with terrifying strength, his weight bearing down on the plank beneath me, pushing his head between my legs and suctioning his disgusting mouth onto my pussy before I can process what he’s doing. The board creaks and splinters as he groans in pleasure and holds the cigar dangerously close to the soft flesh of my inner thigh.

It feels like my brain is doing back flips trying to escapewhat’s happening, and before I can think through the consequences, I react like an animal, desperate and wild. In one violent motion, I slam my knees closed as hard as I can, catching his head between my thighs.

I scream into my gag as the cigar he’s holding sears my inner thigh as he yanks free, his angry roar deafening. He stands, fury pouring off him in waves, and his fist crashes into the side of my face. Pain explodes in a white-hot flash as another blow lands on my stomach, and the board beneath me cracks further.

“Open your eyes!” he roars.

His lips curl into an angry grimace when I comply, blood pounding in my ears.

“You don’t like me,piccolina? Because I kill your father? Yet, you have no problem spreading your legs for Matti—even though he killed your sister when I told him to?”

Spit flies out of his mouth as he talks, and I squeeze my eyes shut, wishing I could plug my ears. The smell of burnt flesh hangs around me, and my skin burns as I push back the urge to vomit.

Franco says Matti killed Emily. Aurelio says Matti killed Emily. Only Matti says he didn’t.

But men lie—especially when they want to fuck you.

They also lie when they want to hurt you.

What the fuck am I supposed to believe?

Aurelio slaps me across the face, and when I open my eyes in shock, he blows a fat puff of smoke at me.

“You don’t believe me. You want to believe that I am the monster and not your Matti, yes? Well, Iamthe monster. But your Matti, he is a monster, too. Especially to women.”

Matti’s words come back to me:I’m your monster, kitten.

I’m struggling to breathe, my body on fire with pain. Moving my head as little as possible, I try to explore my peripheral vision, looking for an escape. The door on the far side of the room is ajar, but I can’t see anything in the dark hallway except shadows.

Aurelio moves to block my view, and I turn my head away as much as I can. He grabs my chin and forces me to look at him.

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