Page 22 of Brutal Crown
“Lia.”
My whole body tenses. I grit my teeth and stare at the door, willing him to disappear. My heartbeat roars in my ears.
I don’t answer. I need him to go to hell.
There’s a long pause, and I almost think he’s gone until the door handle turns.
“Don’t you dare—” I shoot up from the bed, the blanket falling from my legs. “Get out.”
He enters anyway, shutting the door behind him like he owns the room, like he doesn’t even care if he’s wanted here or not.
He is still in his dinner clothes, his jacket open and his tie slightly loosened. His jaw is tight, and his eyes—god, his eyes—are not filled with hate like before.
They look tired. Tortured. Like he’s been losing a fight inside his own head.
“You didn’t answer. I thought something was wrong.”
“Oh, how thoughtful,” I bite out. “Should I get on my knees to thank you?”
That halts him on his steps. For a split second, I see his face shift. It’s subtle, but I notice it. Guilt, maybe. Or shame. He hides it quickly behind that neutral, cold mask he always wears and crosses the room.
“Stop moving,” I hiss. “Turn around and leave.”
He keeps moving slowly toward me, like he’s being careful not to hurt me.
Too bad he already did.
“I wanted to check on you.”
I let out an incredulous laugh. “You want to check on me? After you treated me like a circus animal in front of your whole damn family? Are you kidding me right now?”
“I didn’t?—”
“You didn’t what? Mean it? You’re too smart to play dumb, Francesco. You knewexactlywhat you were doing.”
His jaw tenses.
“I didn’t mean for it to go that far,” he says quietly. “I got… carried away.”
“Wow. So humiliating me was amomentyou lost control? Poor you. You enjoyed torturing me so much that you got carried away.”
My body begins to tremble as my anger and humiliation return in full force.
“You’re a monster,” I spit. “I’ve always known, but you reminded me tonight.”
A broken look takes over his face. He doesn’t have the right to look that way.
“Rosalia…”
I shut my eyes tightly and take a step back. He doesn’t have the right to call my name, not after he called me by my name for the first time earlier just for the sake of humiliating me.
“Why are you here?” I ask, opening my eyes to look at him.
“I couldn’t stay away.”
“Then go back to your fiancée,” I hiss. “Let her soothe your conscience.”
“I—”
