“I heard what you said. Do you see that door? Show yourself out if you’re tired of it,” my father said, his words scathing. “I don’t need a son like you, who sits around doing fuck all.”
Romeo swallowed hard and glanced at me, as though begging for help. I leaned back into the leather recliner and shrugged. He was getting no help from me. He dug the hole himself, so he could bury himself in it, for all I cared.
“I’ve just been feeling a little pressure since Gianni passed, that’s all. I mean, even his funeral was rushed because our family had work to do. It’s been intense.”
My father raised his eyebrows and scoffed. “Intense? Do you think that’s fucking intense? That was my son! And now I have a good-for-nothing heir who’s talking shit behind my back?” he turned his attention to me, which caused the smile to disappear from my lips. “And you’re just sitting here listening to this shit? You’re part of this family, too, Marcello! Don’t you forget that. We owe everything to what we’ve all built here.”
I felt my stomach knot at the words spewing from his mouth. His face was glowing red with anger and frustration. The impact of Gianni’s death was proving difficult for everyone, but my father had barely voiced it. It was impossible to describe the fact that we hadn’t even fully found his body. It was all hearsay. That was, of course, until Romeo decided to complain.
“I’m sorry,” Romeo said finally, biting his lip. “It was a mistake. You’re right.”
“You bet your ass that I’m right. Now then, you’ve got shit to do, right? Get to it. You too.”
I kept my eyes locked with my father’s, letting him know that I wouldn’t let him belittle me. I knew better than to say anything, though. I didn’t like causing issues as Romeo did. I knew when to keep my mouth shut.
Romeo turned to me and sighed. “I’ll see you later, bro.”
I remained quiet and watched as they both left the room. I hated everything about what just happened. Lumping me in with Romeo, as though I was the one causing issues? It was bullshit. Everything about the day had been regrettable.
I pushed myself up off the couch and headed towards the kitchen. I needed to get my mind off of my father’s reaction. Even if it meant visiting her.
* * *
The floor wascool beneath my socks as I walked to her room. I wanted to open the door, leave food, and have her continue with what we’d started. I wanted to see her climax again. I was desperate to have her show me the desire in her eyes that I saw the day that I’d snuck back downstairs and looked in on her.
But I couldn’t stop pacing.
The frustration was building, and I found myself wanting to fight something. Beat something until I was relieved. I stood at the door and opened the slit, then walked away again. I didn’t know what I was doing, but I was pacing, as I always did when I was upset. When I glanced back through the slit as I passed, her expression surprised me. She had a pillow up against her chest and was cowering in the corner of her bed with her knees up against the pillow.
“What’re you doing?”
She glanced up at me from behind the pillow, and I saw that tears were filling her eyes. “Nothing.”
“You’re cowering. Why?”
I knew what she was going to say the moment I asked the question. She’d already made it apparent what she thought of me. Still, I wanted her to say it. I wanted to hear it, even though I knew it would only set me off further.
“Because of what you’re doing right now,” she said, her voice quivering. “You’re scaring me.”
“Why don’t you just say it then?”
“What?”
I just stared at her, waiting for her response. She knew exactly what I wanted her to say, but she was avoiding it. It was her fear that was stopping her from saying it to me. Still, I need to hear it from her. I had to know.
“Fine!” she yelled finally, shaking her head. “I’m scared of you. Is that what you wanted me to say? I’m terrified that you’re going to hurt me.”
“Yes, because I want to fix it.”
She glared at me, her eyes showing disbelief.
“I’m serious. Do you want to feel good?”
I saw her pupils dilated at my words, and it solidified that she was different than I’d originally expected. There was another layer to her—a layer that wanted to be pleased. She was attracted to me enough that the thought of me pleasing her actually aroused her. That was enough for me to want to pursue it further.
“Yes.”
All it took was the one word to set me off. Now I just needed to determine her boundaries. I’d already pushed her since she arrived at the house. If it wasn’t consensual, there was no real arousal to it. I needed the woman I was with to want it.
