Page 88 of Beautiful Devil

“Who are your parents?”

“James and Mary Roberts.”

“Where did you go to school?”

“Boston University.”

“I didn’t ask you where you went to college,gattina. I asked you where you went to school.”

Without missing a beat, she answers with as much bite as I snapped at her with. “North Hartsville Elementary School, Hartsville Middle School and Hartsville High School. Go Red Foxes! Would you like me to call my mama and get the name of the preschool I went to, since I can’t remember that, or how about the names of all my teachers and transcripts too? Mama kept all of my report cards and was constantly showing them off. I’m sure she’d be happy to talk my ear off about how I was such a bright student.”

She’s breathing heavy now, and I can tell that I’ve angered her, but I don’t give a fuck. Everything I thought I knew about this woman seems to be imploding in my face, and I need her to look me in the eyes when she answers these questions. I need to see her lie to my face so I can crush her twice as hard. Ignoring everything she just said and not ripping into her for the attitude she used, I move along to my next question.

“Name?” I grate out between clenched teeth. She looks at me like I’ve grown two heads before she bursts out laughing.

Full. Blown. Belly. Laugh.

What the fuck is so funny?

I’m so irritated I have to keep clenching and unclenching my fists so I don’t ram them into the wall of mirrors to my left. She finally calms herself down enough so she can answer.

“Are you serious right now? As if you don’t know my name? May I remind you that you’re the one who kidnappedme.” She fires, stepping back so I’m out of her space.

“Do I look like I’m kidding?”

Crossing her arms over her chest, highlighting her ample breasts, she levels me with a stare. “You want my name? Fine. Gia Rosa Roberts was my name when I was born, until I married Gallo. Then I became Gia Rosa D’Amato, which is what I’ve gone by for the past 5 years until I marriedyou. So I guess I’m now Gia Rosa Moretti even though I haven’t filed any of the paperwork to legally change my name to Moretti, but something tells me that you took care of that. I bet I was Gia Moretti before the ink even dried on our marriage license. My best friend calls me G and my parents called me pumpkin, because apparently I was obsessed with all things pumpkin growing up until I actually tried it and hated the taste.” She wrinkles her nose up at the memory. “Oh, and I can’t forgetgattinaanddolcezza,although I have no clue what the hell those two words mean because I don’t speak Italian. Does that answer your question, or would you like me to continue and tell you how in fifth grade, a substitute teacher read my name wrong and called off Roberts while he was doing roll call because he thought that was my first name, so for that whole year, the entire fifth grade class called me Robert, Robbie, and Bobby? I guess it didn’t help that I was a tomboy and hated wearing anything girly either. Anything else,sir?”

She gets angrier with every word she speaks and even though she’s mocking me by calling me sir, my cock doesn’t care and just wants to be buried deep inside her tight cunt while I fuck the sass out of her.

Needing to know the answer to this question, I saved it for last on purpose. “Where were you born, Gia?”

Again, she doesn’t hesitate. “Carolina Pines Hospital in Hartsville, South Carolina. Would you like the doctors’ names, along with the list of nurses on staff at the time of my birth, too? License number and where they attended college?”

She cocks her head and smiles sweetly at me. Or at least she tries to, but there's too much venom behind her eyes. I know she’s mad, and to her, these are a bunch of useless questions and she’s probably wondering why I’m asking them, but I won’t tell her. Not until I know more.

I’m still pissed as fuck, but slightly less now that I’m so close to her. Her scent seems to calm me. I need her to leave so I can be alone and think over everything. If she doesn’t leave soon, I’ll end up fucking her against the wall, on the gym mat, or the rower. I take a step back, and surprise crosses her face that I’m away from her.

Keeping my eyes on hers, I sweep my arm out to the side before saying, “You can go.”

Surprise quickly turns into anger at my dismissal. Not caring to stand and watch her any longer, mainly because my head is telling me one thing while my dick is telling me another, I turn around and start walking over to where I dropped my weights on the ground.

Bending over, I pick up them up and resume my workout. I get in three bicep curls before Gia is yelling at me.

“‘You can go’? Are you fucking kidding me right now? What the fuck was all that? Some sort of test? And why is it you never answer any of my questions?”

Ignoring her, I channel all of my anger into my bicep curls, trying to focus on my form in the mirror in front of me, but my eye catches movement behind me. Gia comes walking at me as fast as her short legs allow her to, and before I know it, she’s now standing in front of me, blocking most of my reflection in the mirror. She only comes up to my shoulders so I can still see my face staring back at me. We’re too close so I can’t continue with my bicep curls like I wanted to, leaving me standing here like an idiot.

“So that’s it? You go back to ignoring me and I have to chase you down in order to get any answers out of you? Marriage is all about communicating, not harboring emotions, and ignoring one another. Where are you from? What areyourparent's names? Where were you born? Give mesomething, Fabi. We’ve been married for a little over a month and I don’t know anything about you!” She’s almost shouting when she finishes talking, her chest rapidly rising and falling with frustration.

“You may not think so, but you know me better than anyone, Gia. I don’t open up to people. The last time I did that was right before my father was shot point blank between the eyes. Two years before that, my mother died of breast cancer. I was groomed my whole life to be the Don of this Mafia and it happened a lot quicker than anyone ever thought it would. Everything was going fine untilyoucame along and fucked it up. In case you’ve forgotten, one of my warehouses blew up and someone tried to kill me, running me off the road. Excuse me for being preoccupied with moreimportantthings thatactuallymatter instead of making small talk with mywifebecause she’s feeling neglected. Anything else,dear,or can I finally get back to my workout before someone else interrupts me for something of importance?” I bark at her.

She visibly flinches with my last word, tears welling in her eyes. I instantly feel like a dick for talking to her that way. I’m conflicted because I want to reach out and wrap her in my arms to soothe the pain I’ve caused, but I’m also still pissed as fuck and confused.

Masking her features as best as she can, she takes a step back and says, “I’ll leave you alone. I wouldn’t want to take up any more of your precious time that’s reserved for things that actually matter.”

And with that, she's gone.

As soon as she’s out the door, I drop the weights, rush forward to the wall of mirrors and punch my reflection right in the face. The mirror shatters on impact, splitting my knuckles open. I stand, staring at my face in the broken shards of glass, hating the fragmented person looking back at me.

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