Page 126 of Till Death Do Us Part

“I know.” I smiled. “What happened to it?” I started backing away, holding my hands up. I read the intent in his eyes. “What is it with you and blood? What did you do with the other pieces of it?”

“I’m a carnivore, my little plant eater. We like to tear shit up.”

Not only did he take pleasure in tearing shit up, but hearts too. He’d ripped mine into pieces, like the sheet, using it as weapon to hurt his enemies. I knew he got pleasure from rubbing me in Alfonso’s face, but this went beyond that. This felt different somehow. Like he’d crossed a line I hadn’t realized I’d set. Because I trusted him enough not to trip it. It felt like he’d taken a private part of me and showed it to the world for his own gain.

His revenge was aimed at my father too, but in a different way. He did it to let Babbo know he’d claimed me and there was nothing he could do about it. Just like my father had claimed there was nothing he could do to save Sal.

Another truth hit me in that moment. Felice had told me he was at Mamma’s funeral. I understood then…he’d gone to show Babbo how cruel karma could be.

I’d somehow charmed a dangerous carnivore, but he was still a carnivore, and he thrived on blood.

I startled a little when I looked up and found him standing in the doorway of the spare closet. But I quickly recovered. I lifted the stained sheet.

“Let’s see,” I breathed out, but there was nothing soft about it. “My father. Alfonso and Jack. Who else needs to see Roma’s virginal blood for you to get a hit in? Is the list long? Do we need to tear up the other fucking piece to mail?” I flung the sheet at his face. “We can recycle that one. My father didn’t want it.”

The material barely reached him. He picked it up off the floor and had the audacity to hold it like it meant something to him. He was holding it so tight, his knuckles turned white. But there was no stopping the hemorrhage. He’d torn a piece of me that felt like it would never stop bleeding because of his motives.

I loved this son of a bitch. And he was using me.

I stood, dusting off my clothes, and stopped in front of him. He was blocking the door.

“Why did you go to Jupiter, John? Was it because you were going with the flow of things? Or because you were planning to fuck the woman who was intended to marry Jack,me, to get back at Alfonso?”

He refused to answer me, but his silence was loud. He’d gone to Jupiter to get to me first. To see what else he could win for his side of this game.

I smiled, but it only cut me deep. “I saw Alfonso with the piece of sheet you sent him. The night you were arrested. I had no idea what it was then, but I know now. He’s going to carry it around every time he gets a hit on you. But the only one who’s getting hit in this game is me. I expected it from everyone else, but not you. I know who you are, John. You’re a carnivore. And I know what you see when you look at me. A weaker creature. And you made me feel safe in that hospital room. But I was wrong. So fucking wrong to trust you.”

He wouldn’t let me through when I tried to slip past him.

Our eyes met and held, a silent war raging between us.

The intensity in his eyes was at madness level, but I refused to let him ensnare me this time. I couldn’t get past the hurt in my chest. It felt like it was suffocating me, drowning me, setting me on fire, stabbing me with a thousand knives. I’d never felt pain like this.

I’d never felt so used before.

He broke first, hoarsely whispering, “Solo tu,” before he moved out of my way, but followed behind me.

I didn’t care that he did. What was the use in fighting when nothing was going to change this? He could try all he wanted, even moving out of my way to prove he’d only move for me, but there was no taking back what he’d done and why. I sat down on the bed, and he moved around to his side. He opened the drawer in the nightstand and got something out of it. He sent it flying and it landed next to me.

It was a picture of Jack and me from Lo’s wedding. The photographer must have caught it. I was laughing at something, and before I could stop him, Jack took my arm. It looked like we were dancing, or in the middle of an intimate moment.

“This?” I held it up. “This is what you sacrificed me for? A fucking picture?”

“Alfonso sent that to me.” His voice was deep and full of gravel. “I’m sure your father approved.”

“Oh, I see. So you had to hurt him back. You had to kill a part of him to make yourself feel better.”

What did he tell me when I’d told him about Babbo murdering my fish?Some people kill whatever represents the hurt to make themselves feel better.

“You were smiling at him.” He shrugged, like his shoulders had grown and his dress shirt was too tight. “I let it go once. That’s over my limit. I was either going to kill one of them with my hands or fatally wound their pride with the sheet. I chose the latter, since I knew you wouldn’t take the first choice well.”

“I wasn’t smilingathim! The photographer caught me smiling and Jack happened to be there. I wasn’t dancing with him either.”

“Happiness is mine to give you.”

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. I had a headache. Everything ached. I wasn’t sure if he was ever going to understand how much he’d hurt me. Maybe he didn’t even realize what he was doing. He was so caught up in the game, I wasn’t sure if he could ever quit. When someone hurt him, he struck back even harder. The blood of his enemies transfixed him. It didn’t matter if I got trampled and bloodied in the process.

My head felt too heavy, so I plopped back on the bed. He rushed over to me, looking down.

---