Page 52 of Dirty Mafia Sinner
“Che cosa?” one asks. I’ve no idea what’s being said, but her expression reads confused. I glance at the second woman, the same one who’d been vacuuming. If looks could kill, I’d escape this nightmare.
“Sandro,” she whines, and points to me. “Non con questa stronza che ci guarda!”
He growls her name in warning. “Barbara.”
“Non Barbara,” she sniffles. “Brigetta.”
“Whatever your goddamn name is, bend the fuck over or leave.” I hit my head on the top of the cage at his shout.
Both brunettes lean over the cage and flatten their chests against the top.
Lord, this isn’t happening.
“On your toes.”
No. No. No. No way am I watching this. I grab the bars and rattle the cage. “Let me out of here,” I demand.
His belt swings from his hand.
All the aggressive, borderline violent games we played fall short of this kind of pain.
“Don’t,” I plead. “You’re hurting me.”
His bruised eyes lock on mine. “Baby, you don’t know the definition of hurt. Not yet.”
Baby? He decimates the endearment with such a cruel and uncaring tone that my heart pauses with disbelief. And he’s wrong … If he weren’t so angry, he’d realize it. Because not only do I know the definition of hurt, I’ve written books on the topic.
My eyes brighten with tears.
His bruised lips curl, enjoying my distress.
No more. He’s not worth it.
“Fate vedere il culo, troie mie.”
The women wiggle and claim my attention. A strangling protest escapes my throat as they raise their uniforms. Horrified, I shift my eyes back to Alessandro, only to discover he’s looking at me.
“Let’s make a deal.”
“What?” I gasp.
He snaps the belt in the air.
I stiffen, as do the two brunettes.
“Never blistered your ass, have I?”
Does he actually expect an answer?
“If you want out, I’ll grant your request.” His eyes flash darkly. “If you join us.”
“Join you?” I’m momentarily speechless.
His expression hardens, and I’m slow to acknowledge the monster he truly is.
“How can you be so cruel?”
His knuckles tighten around the belt. “And how can you be such a beautiful liar?”
