Page 74 of Bedding Rose
I nod, because they are. They’ve done exactly as Angelo suspected they would this entire time. I’m not saying he’s an evil genius … but I’m not saying he’s not either.
Angelo hands over the sandpaper and steps back, ordering, “Hands up and stay still unless you want us to take the bat to you.”
Number one freezes instantly, clutching the sandpaper tight—he might even be holding his breath. It’s fascinating what terror will do to a person.
Mint’s hands reach around Number one’s waist and quickly yank down his pants.
“Ten strokes with item one on your dick,” Angelo orders.
The blubbering cries that come from underneath the hood are music to my ears. A wide smile stretches across my face as I become someone I never knew I could be but relish having become—a vengeful bitch.
Guy two is already trembling when Mint unties his hands. “What did you do to him?” the second frat boy demands.
“Shut up!” Angelo barks—the mechanics hiding his tone but not the volume of his words, which seem to bounce off the walls. “Choose an item.”
Of course, Number two chooses the cheese grater over the garden shears, thinking it’s the lesser evil. When Mint strips his pants off, he shrieks.
Angelo then calmly lays out the rules. “Ten strokes on your ass. Each one better shave skin or it doesn’t count. When you both have finished your strokes, you get to go home.”
Then my boyfriend walks back to me and we link hands as we watch my rapists defile their own bodies.
Afterward, we step back out into the night with Mint, who’ll clean up and drop the bastards back on the campus.
The moon is bright and pretty overhead and the night has cooled down quite a bit—either that or the relief from pulling off my balaclava makes the air feel refreshing.
When I turn, I gasp because Angelo’s just pulled off his own face covering. He’s got a bruise forming on his cheek where that fucker kicked him and his lip is split open. I quickly stride over and cup the side of his cheek, gazing up at him in concern. “Are you okay?”
“Are you?” His brow furrows in concern, eyes studying me.
I nod.
I’m perfect.
“Then I’m great,” he murmurs before leaning down to give me a peck on the lips that makes my heart shine brighter than all the stars in the sky.
When he pulls back, he swipes his knuckles across his bleeding lip. Violence has never looked so beautiful.
ROSE
Two Weeks Later
We stand in the tall foyer of a southwestern-style house with archways leading off in three different directions. Some floral plug-in scent fills the space, which is decorated with all of the knick-knacks and accoutrements of a typical grandma's house. Still, though, afternoon light pours in through the windows and the place is beautiful.
I can’t believe we’re looking at houses together—Angelo and me.
I mean, I agreed to it. I’m here. But still, most days I feel like I’m floating in a dream.
I glance over at him, at his dark hair and the tattoos curling up his neck, at those lips that I can’t get enough of. Even in just a t-shirt and jeans, he’s so delicious I can hardly stand it.God, I adore this man.
He glances down at me and smirks as the realtor’s heels click on the tile floor in front of us, completely unaware of the eye fucking going on right behind her.
“This house is an estate sale, so I think you can get a good deal if you like it. It has two bedrooms and two bathrooms, along with—”
“Can you give us a minute?” Angelo asks her.
She turns quickly. She’s a new-to-us agent and this is our first showing with her. Worry crosses her features as she spends a second wondering if this house was a mistake before she blinks her false lashes rapidly.
“Of course.” Her smile is as fake as my mother’s.
