Page 159 of My Mafia Queen

He chuckles.

“The little kitten has gotten a nice set of claws. Living with a mafia boss surely has something to do with this.”

“You know you’re a dead man,” I blurt while he pushes me into a kitchen chair, slides his gun onto the table, and struggles to tie my hands behind my back.

“Not more than you are a dead woman,” he says, hurting my wrists while struggling to keep them together.

He manages to tie my hands, but I make sure they’re not tightly pressed against each other so I can move them.

He is so wired up and eager to grab my face that he doesn’t bother to check if he has done a good job.

This is Beau Anthony. Always doing sloppy jobs.

Eventually, he swivels my chair and makes me look at him. He tosses my hoodie back, and my hair falls over my shoulders.

I spit on his face.

“Fuck you,” I say. “I can’t wait to dance on your grave.”

A wicked grin glints in his eyes as he wipes off my spit from his face.

“A woman of my taste. I wish you were like that when you were with me. We would’ve had a lot of fun.”

His gaze dips.

“He fucked you, didn’t he? That’s why you’re so feisty,’ he says, amused. “You were a little fucking mouse back then. But I knew you had a wild streak in you even then. It’s just that you didn’t show me this side of you.”

“Maybe because you weren’t man enough for me.”

My words wipe his grin from his face so fast, and I get so distracted by him that I don’t see his hand coming to my face.

He slaps me, and my head lolls to the side. It hurts like hell, and I taste blood on my lip.

Slowly, I turn my head to him and stare at him defiantly.

“This just proves my point…” I mutter. “Fuck you, Anthony. Your dick may be big, but your head is half the side of your dick.”

His eyes blaze at me when voices ring outside, and two men enter the kitchen.

“Who do we have here?” one of them asks, fastening his belt.

The other one walks in, fixing his pants.

“Can we fuck her too?” the first one asks, and my blood gets cold.

Revulsion soars through me when I look at Anthony.

“You finally got your own mignons. And this is the best that you can do?”

“Shut up, Car.”

“Don’t fucking “Car’ me. How could you do that to Jen? You know her.”

“I know you, and that doesn’t mean anything, does it?”

I go silent.

He pivots away from me and sets his gun on the counter.

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