Page 62 of Dirty Mafia Sinner
My face pales, and my hands shake.
“Jesus, man.”
“He can’t save her. No one can.”
“I hope you won’t regret this.”
Alessandro’s fist hits the table. “I already do. Why keep her when she’s no use to me?”
No use? I want to disappear into the floor and vanish within the cold stone beneath the villa. Yet deep inside me, something uncoils like a snake ready to bite. I’d no control over the cancer that killed my mother. No sway when I pleaded with my father to dump that money-hungry bitch. No defenses in place to deal with the aftermath. And no warning the man I believed might help end my suffering was a control freak with a big dick, vicious tongue, and a heart so cold Death Valley would freeze over.
Do I want my last moments to be filled with heartbreak?
Months of pent-up emotions unfurl.
I snap, and snap hard. “Listen up, you asshole,” I shout. “I’m no longer playing your sick and twisted games. You want me dead, then kill me. But know this; whatever you believe I’m guilty of, you’re wrong. And I’ll curse you from my grave when you realize it.”
I’m panting by the time I’m finished.
Both men are silent, which sets me off again.
I rattle the cage. “Are you listening,stranzo?” Flavoring my question with an Italian word I don’t even understand comes out of nowhere. He’s used it several times with good effect, so …
A throat clears. “Thought you said she was perfectly submissive?” My ears strain to hear Alessandro’s response, but only Tommaso speaks. “Let me interview her.”
“No.”
“Why the hell not? You want answers, and I’ll get them.”
Alessandro growls low in his throat. “You’re on an evening flight to Atlanta, motherfucker. I’ll handle her.”
Tommaso snorts. “With that knife?”
Fear envelops me. Because I made a mistake. You don’t defend yourself against a monster by provoking him. Monsters can only be defeated if you find their soft side.
A fist slams onto the table. “Nothing else to say?”
I blink. Alessandro’s addressingme. Think, Riley. What’s the solution, permanent or temporary? “Icaredabout you,” I softly croak.
“Fuck,” he curses. “The ankle monitors arrive yet?”
“Yesterday.”
“On your way out, send a man to fetch one,” Alessandro orders, all business. “He can grab a new uniform while he’s at it.”
“You certain this is the right call?”
“If I kill her now, I won’t get the pleasure of punishing her for disrespecting me.”
“You’re a sick shit.”
“Yeah, isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black?”
Tommaso kicks the cage. “Should have kept quiet, sweetheart. And, stronzo … that’s where you really fucked up. Death might have been the better option.”
“Any further words for our sweetheart?”
I frown. His tone is downright sinister.
