“I needed to speak with you.”
I scrunch my face in confusion. “In the middle of the night? That seems highly unlikely.”
He stares at me from across the room, his gaze unreadable. “No more than finding Benito in your room, yet I stand corrected.”
“It would seem so.”
Tristano strides toward me and I retreat until my back hits the wall. My gaze darts around the space, searching for a way to keep him from getting too close, but he has me trapped in seconds. I jump when he slams his palm next to my head and leans in.
“What’s going on between you and Benito?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t lie to me,” he snaps. “I will beat the truth out of you if I have to.”
My indignation, powered by hurt and the injustice of this situation, rises up and I squint at him. “If you already know I’m lying, then why should I bother answering you?”
He uses his free hand to grip my jaw and force my head up higher. “You will because I’m commanding you to and any disobedience will result in punishment. It’s that simple.”
“I already told you the truth.” I can’t turn away because he’s holding me and I close my eyes to block him out instead. “You got what you wanted from me, so leave. We both know that’s not hard for you.”
He inhales sharply and then squeezes my jaw until I wince. “Open your eyes, damn it.”
I do, but only so he can see contempt in them. It’s not enough that he used me, now he wants to harass me too. Tears sting my eyes and I try to blink them away before they gather and spill over.
“You’re good at something as well,” he says, releasing his hold on me and straightening. “Whoring yourself out to me and then to Benito within twenty-four hours is quite impressive, and inmyhouse no less. When I said you needed more life experiences, I didn’t think you’d spread your legs so quickly.”
My hand connects with his cheek and a sizzling pain radiates from the center of my palm. “Fuck you!”
If I thought my heart was broken, now it’s pulverized.
We stare at one another with me glaring and him in shock. I’d be surprised at my actions too, but I’m upset and the repercussions of them haven’t fully registered. The current of emotion streaming through me is like a live wire, sparking me into movement, and my feet carry me to the door.
Tristano tries to stop me by calling my name and I ignore him because the days of me obeying him are over. No one is going to disrespect me or tell me what to do anymore.
I have no idea where I’m running to. All Iknow is I need to get away from him before he can cause me permanent damage. If he hasn’t already.
My bare feet tread the carpet silently as I make my way down the long hallway and toward the stairs, with the goal of reaching the front door firmly set in my mind. I think the night air might assist in clearing my head and I’ve spent more of my life inside than not, so the chance to be outside isn’t something I want to pass up. But more importantly, I need to get the hell away from Tristano, even if it’s just for a little while.
The marble of the first stair is cool to touch, as is the iron lattice railing. I grip it tightly and race downward with enough speed to cause the ends of my silk robe to part and then flutter behind me. The hem of my nightie rises daringly high, but without anyone around to see, my modesty remains intact. Although, Tristano’s men could be guarding the exits. The thought gives me pause and I slow down once I’m on the ground floor.
A small shriek crawls up my throat when someone grabs my arm, but the tiny sound is abruptly cut off by their palm covering my mouth. Tristano stares down at me, his silver gaze digging into me like nails. He maneuvers us until I’m nestled into the curve of the stairwell, the iron railing behind me and him in front to prevent any escape. The metal digs into my back and I stiffen my spine at the contact.
“Get away from me,” I say, loud enough for him to hear, but not wake up the others.
“Why? So you can go back to Benito? Or maybe you’d like to fuck someone else on my payroll?”
I lift my hand to slap him again, since the first time was extremely satisfying to my wounded pride, but Tristano intercepts me. He slams my wrist against the ironwork and wraps his fingers around it, keeping me in place. Then he seizes the other and repeats the process.
“What is wrong with you?” I ask, while attempting to break free of his hold. It’s useless but, although I know that, I do it anyway out of pure desperation. Maybe this is what Beni meant when he said to yell if I needed him. As in literally calling for his help.
I don’t want to, but I might if Tristano releases the wrath pulsing just beneath his skin.
He brings his face close to mine and the smell of alcohol hits my nostrils. He’s clearly been drinking but isn’t drunk. His gaze is lucid, indicating he’s level-headed, yet he’s had enough liquor to cripple his inhibitions. That could mean he’s relaxed and would be open to talking sensibly. Or his self-control has been weakened and his fury, which is already slipping through the cracks, will break through completely.
“I gave you the order to stay away from my men,” he says. “Instead of obeying me, you invited one into your bedroom tonight. What’s wrong with this scenario is you, not me.”
My breaths come out in short, angry bursts as I glare up at him while trying to remain calm. “You’re the problem because you’re not hearing what I’m saying. Just because you think your mother’s untrustworthy, that doesn’t mean every other woman is too.”
