Page 1 of Bittersweet Endings
Prologue
The bass pulsed through the club, rattling in my ribs and stabbing me from the inside out. From my spot in the VIP section, I had the perfect view. Of him.
My ruin. My torment. My addiction.
And like a fool, I watched him. Watched his harem of whores flock to his side. Watched how he didn’t pay them much attention but didn’t push them away either.
Women draped themselves over him, their hands trailing his arms, their overfilled lips curving around flirtatious laughter. He smirked, his teeth flashing like a predator and his fingers stroking a body that wasn’t mine.
It shouldn’t have felt like someone was shoving a hand into my chest and squeezing my heart. It shouldn’t have felt like his tattooed fingers were digging into the tattered organ and ripping it from my body.
But it did. It fucking did.
Because he’d broken me. Him. Carmine. He’d managed to do it. And with a past like mine, that was a goddamnfeat. There hadn’t been much left of me prior to him. Just a shell. A body that smiled and moved where she was told. And now, after him, that smile was long gone.
I swallowed against the lump clawing up my throat, my fingers tightening around the metal grip in my hand. I felt the weight of it, the power, the finality. He deserved to hurt. To feel something close to the agony he carved into my soul.
“Get the fuck out of here,” I barked.
A few heads turned, but the women around him barely noticed, too intoxicated by his presence to care about the broken woman holding the gun. So, I cocked it back and put a bullet in the chamber. When there was no reaction, I turned and pulled the trigger.
Screams tore through the air. The women scrambled back. Knocking over drinks and clutching their expensive purses as they fled. Fear painted their faces, but I wasn’t looking at them.
I was looking at him and he wasn’t afraid.
No, that bastard smirked, leaning back in his chair like it was some dumb party trick. As if he’d fucked with my head so bad I’d never be able to pull this trigger. And if I could do it, he was unbothered. Because even in death, he’d still own my soul.
The door opened and his brother stared me down from where he was standing in the hall. Deep voices barking commands behind him. The gunshot would’ve alerted everysoldatoin the building.
“This doesn’t concern you, Matteo. Close the door,” I demanded.
Carmine’s head dipped slightly, and Matteo nodded before slowly locking the two of us into the room alone. As soon as it clicked closed, I felt a shudder down my spine.
“Hello, little doll.” His muscular arms flexed as he lifted his drink to his lips.
Inhaling deeply, I fought my body’s natural reaction to him. My legs threatened to pin themselves to stave the fire of desire burning between my thighs. My tongue fighting the urge to run along my own lips, pretending they were licking the liquor from his.
“You wanted me alone.” He put the glass down, stretching his arms across the back of the chair, his legs spread wide. “Now, what’re you going to do with me?”
“I want to take everything from you,” I said, my voice stronger than I expected. “Like you took from me.”
“What did I take from you, little doll?”
I wanted to scream in his face.You took everything, asshole!But I didn’t. I couldn’t. And I didn’t know why.
“You were damaged goods already, so it’s not your virginity.”Don’t react.“It’s not your freedom, because once I got tired of your pussy, I gave you back.”Don’t react.“So, what is it?”
My throat burned as acid settled heavily within the tight confines of my neck. He’d taken everything from me and the bastard didn’t care. This man had been able to move on like I didn’t matter. And I was fighting myself because I didn’t wanthimto matter tome.
How the fuck was I supposed to get the man out of my head when he consumed every thought? The woman he’d stolen wasn’t the same he’d returned.
I wasn’t weak anymore. Instead, I was here to take from him. To take his fucking life if that was what was needed to be free of him.
Because the moment he dumped me back in New York, the Agostinos’ weakest link had broken and my family saw it. But they didn’t celebrate me; they were afraid of me. Nothing was the same and it never would be again. I didn’t know those people anymore.
And they didn’t know me either.
Maybe they never did. And because he’d given me back so freely, they didn’t trust me. They watched me like I was a ticking bomb.
