Page 60 of Chaos & Carnage

Going out on a limb, I say, “He knows now that he acted impulsively. He wishes to apologize.”

“And he’s hiding behind your skirts?” Giovanni drawls, unimpressed.

It’s a struggle to push out my next words. “As you said, he sent me over to sweeten you up and see if you were open to talking.”

His lips thin, his eyes doing another slow perusal of my body, making me feel icky. “I guess that will depend on just how good you are. I’m intrigued enough to find out what all the fuss is about.”

Don’t vomit. Don’t vomit. Don’t vomit. That will undoubtedly ruin everything I’m doing here.

I’m careful to hide my disgust, shaping it into uncertainty and fear, which I do allow him to see as I flick a self-conscious glance to the two guards behind me. I need to get rid of them before I can make my move. Three-on-one is not a fight I can win. Hell, taking on Giovanni alone will be challenging. I need to continue with this deception until the final moment, until I have the tip of my blade pressed against his carotid artery and he blanches, realizing I’ve fooled him.

“Don’t worry about them.” He grins, a cruel slash of his lips. “I don’t like an audience. Follow me.” Turning on his heels, he strides confidently through the door he initially appeared through, and with saliva pooling in my mouth and nerves hammering at my chest, I follow. Thankfully, the clicking of my heels across the marble floor drowns out the erratic drumbeat of my heart that thumps with the velocity of a stampede.

Giovanni remains by the door, forcing me to step past him into the room and putting him at my back. I only get a second to take in the large desk positioned in front of me before my face collides with it. My breath rushes out in a sudden oomph, and I immediately strain against the pressure pushing on my back.

“My son thinks sendingyouwill compensate for his betrayal?” Giovanni snarls in my ear, his putrid breath making me gag. I can feel him behind me, his groin pinning my pelvis against the edge of the desk. One elbow digs into my back while his hand fists the back of my head and tugs painfully on the strands until I have to bite down on my lip to swallow my whimper. “I’m going to break you so thoroughly you’ll be unrecognizable. Only when you’re a whimpering pathetic mess at my feet will I send you back to my son. When you finally crawl your way home to your master, you can tell him he’s as good as dead to me.”

His hand slips beneath the slit in my dress, sliding up my thigh. I only have time to spare a fleeting thanks that my thigh sheath is strapped to my other leg—making my weapons harder to get to but easier to hide. “He thought he could team up with thosethugsand steal what’smine?!” Spittle hits the side of my face as his fury mounts, until it sucks all the air out of the room… or perhaps that’s the elbow wedged into my spine preventing me from breathing deeply. “Let’s see how he feels when I destroy what’s his.”

Oh fuck. Fuck. Why the hell did I not consider that Giovanni might want to take all of his pent-up fury and unleash it on me?!

I can’t do anything more than wiggle my fingers as his hand crawls higher. Anger vibrates through his body behind me, providing him with more than enough adrenaline to keep me trapped. I can feel terror’s cold fingers scratching the surface of my brain, trying to dig in and take hold, but the Reaper is no stranger to being in fucked up situations like this, so rather than giving in, she forces me to relax my body.

Instead of bucking against Giovanni’s weight, I arch my back, pushing my ass against his crotch and hardening chubby. I finish the act with a soft moan that has his fingers stalling in their path a second before a surprised laugh hits my ears.

“Of course, this is turning you on. I forgot you were a stripper. Probably used to being bent over and fucked like the whore you are.” His fingers dig painfully into my thigh, and I’ve no doubt I’ll have the bruises to remind me of this sweet moment for days to come. “I bet you got off on that fuckfest you and Lorenzo put on at the club, eh? I should have let all my men line up and fuck you one after the other.”

Think happy thoughts, I instruct myself as I try to drown out his words and the simmering rage each one is feeding, adding fuel to an already mounting fire. Closing my eyes, I imagine what it will feel like when I slide my blade into his skin. How good it will be to watch his skin tear as easily as a sheet of paper. The satisfaction as his blood spills and his shocked gaze meets mine, his teeny, tiny, misogynistic brain attempting to comprehend how a mere woman could best him.

Oh, yeah. That’s going to feel really fucking satisfying.

Now, I just need to figure out how to make that happen…

I sure as fuck have no hope of getting near his neck in this position. I need to get him to flip me over.

One of my hands is trapped between my back and his chest, and I uselessly wiggle my fingers. “Less clothes,” I pant, pushing as much desire as I can muster into the two words.

“Yes, I definitely agree.”

Before I can do anything to stop it, his fingers are on my panties, tugging and pulling on the string until it gives.

Fuck, no, that is not what I meant.

“I need to touch you,” I try again. Thankfully the twinge of panic in my voice could be mistaken as lust.

He chuckles, the sound lacking any warmth. “Of course you do, you dirty fucking slut. Maybe when I’m done with you, I’ll keep you as my own little pet rather than send you back to that useless son of mine.”

His words immediately yank me back to that room we found Evie in, and I have to fight back the bile crawling up my throat. Is he into that sick shit too? Perhaps Evie wasn’t the only girl closeted away in that building…

As a large hand shoves me onto my back, that thought is ripped away from me, but it’s definitely one I want to come back to when I’m not on the verge of being raped by my father-in-law.

That same hand tightens around my throat, his arm locked at the elbow as he pins me to the desk. I buck against his hold, but that only brings my exposed vagina in contact with the front of his pants, so I force myself to lie still. I make my hands run up the front of his shirt as wicked delight shines in his eyes, his lips forming a cruel smirk while he hovers over me.

“Undo my belt,” he orders.

Refusing to give it any thought, I drop my hands to the waistband of his pants, pulling on his belt until it slackens. With my head still pinned to the desk, I can’t really see what I’m doing, but givenwhatI’m doing, that’s probably not a bad thing.

“Lower the zipper.”

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