Page 120 of Bitter Poetry
Leon shrugs. “Ettore would be very disappointed to learn who his goddaughter’s father is. He will be disappointed in you. Supposing he doesn’t kill you, I’ll make sure the father of your child learns of your whereabouts. I’m sure you were going through a rebellious stage when you slept with him, and a child was not on your agenda. DNA will prove that Peony is not your late husband’s. Kabol is a possessive man. He let you go at the risk of a war. Had he known you carried his child, he certainly would not have done so.”
Her lips tremble. Her eyes are wounded. Too bad I couldn’t give a fuck.
“Oh, and should anything mysteriously happen to Dante or me, your whereabouts and this information will be leaked to Ettore and Kabol.”
“So that’s it?” she hisses, turning to me. “I’m just here to keep your bed warm in this modest home?”
I snort a laugh, finish my drink, and put the glass down on the table.
Leon rises. “Better invest in some blankets if you want your bed warm, Helena. My cousin is interested in Ettore’s good graces, not you.” He tosses a credit card down on the coffee table. “There’s a generous limit to soften the blow of your ‘modest home’… One last thing. Dante is a man with strong family values. He believes it’s time you started taking a more active role in your daughter’s care. Lillette is here to support you, not replace you. For your daughter’s sake, start acting like you give a fuck about her.”
“I’ll be visiting regularly, for appearance’s sake,” I add. “Know that you will be watched either way.”
With a screech, she sweeps her arm across the coffee table, sending the papers and credit card fluttering to the floor. “Fuck you, Dante. Fuck you both!”
Leon winces as he pulls the front door shut behind us, cutting off the sounds of her screeching. “We’re going to need to pay off the neighbors so they don’t file a police report.”
“It’ll be worth it.” Today has been a shit show. But at least one thing has gone to plan.
He offers me his fist. I return the bump.
“Yeah,” he agrees, grinning. “It really will.”
CHAPTER 36
CARMELA
Feeling a hand clamp over my mouth, my eyes snap open. I jolt awake to find a dark shape looming over me. In an instant I know it’s not Christian playing games. And it’s not Ettore either.
I slap out, my breathing going haywire and my heart erupting. His weight comes down, forcing me deep into the couch—now my right hand is trapped between us. In the gloomy light, I see his mouth is moving, but I can’t hear him over the music filling my ears.
His hand is too tight over my mouth. I fight to peel it off. He licks up the side of my face from my chin to my temple. Fresh panic rushes in.
Who? Why?How did they get into the house?
One earbud comes out… “Shh, it’s okay. Ettore knows I’m here.”Cosmo.
His lips are against my throat. He nips, almost playfully.
Is he insane? Ettore is going to kill him. I give up trying to rip his hand away and sink my nails into the side of his face.
“Ungrateful bitch!” He wrests my hand away from his face and pins it to the couch above my head. “He already cut me because of you.” His wet mouth finds my throat again—my stomach turns over. His lips move downward. Pushing my robe aside, he leaves more wet, repugnant kisses moving toward the upper swell of my breast. “But I’ll do my part. Get you pregnant for my brother.”
I’m going to be sick, and all I can think of is that I’m likely to choke to death with his hand over my mouth. He licks over my shoulder, and down my arm… Then suddenly sinks his teeth in.
The pain is excruciating. I scream into his hand, thrashing wildly, finally able to buck him off, and tumbling onto the wooden floor.
I scream and scramble up. He grips my robe and yanks me backward. I tear out of it and pitch forward, but his weight slams me to the floor over the thick, dusty covering that I took off the couch.
He fists the back of my neck and shoves my face deep into it. I breathe in a lungful of dust and choke. My eyes water.
No one is here.
No one is near.
Lilette and Peony are downstairs and a corridor length away. Christian left the house.
Dots swim before my eyes. The dusty covering is suffocating me. My neck is at an awkward angle. When he drops more weight onto me, I can feel bones and muscles screaming in protest, bringing a terrifying notion that it’s about to snap.
