"I mean it, Anton. I'm done," I repeated as I switched the lights off behind the bar. "Please go." Walking back to my studio seemed like a bad idea tonight, even though I usually preferred to walk, as it saved money.
I unlocked my phone, noting the long list of missed calls from my sister. Something must have happened, but now wasn't the time to check. I'd call her once I got home.
I opened the Uber app, but before I could order a car, Anton knocked my phone from my hand. It hit the floor and slid under a table, out of reach. I froze, fear locking my limbs in place. Without a phone, I had no way of calling for help.
Anton loomed over me, using his height to intimidate.
"I'm not done, Verity. Remember what happened the last time you tried to end us? I won't let you go." Of course I remembered. It was the first time he'd truly lost his temper with me. The first time he'd hit me hard enough to leave visible bruises.
Not anywhere someone would see, but still.
"Please don't hit me." I hated how pathetic I sounded. How broken he made me feel.
He moved closer, caging me in so I couldn't escape.
"If you behaved, I wouldn't need to do this, but you've upset me tonight. Bad girls deserve to be punished." He brushed a lock of hair away from my cheek, the warm gentleness of the gesture at odds with the icy rage in his eyes.
My sister wouldn't let a man like Anton treat her this way. She'd have fought back. Hurt him. Made him pay for daring to suggest he owned her.
But Thea and I occupied different worlds, like night and day.
Anton wasn't especially tall or strong, but he still towered over me. Dario had taught me how to defend myself once I hit my teens. Only I couldn't remember any of the moves we'd practiced. My brain had turned to granite, along with my body.
I tried to speak, to defend myself, but my throat closed. Anton smiled when a lone tear dripped down my face and hit the grimy floor. He stepped back, and for a heady moment, I thought he'd calmed down enough to accept my request for a relationship break.
Surely he could see this wasn't going anywhere? I planned to leave Italy soon. He knew that.
The fist came from nowhere. A sharp crack ricocheted through my head, and I fell sideways, hitting a bar stool on my way down. Then he grabbed my ponytail and yanked me to my feet.
"You should have listened!" Spittle flew everywhere. "I warned you what would happen."
As he raised his fist again, the door from the street swung open. My befuddled brain reminded me I'd forgotten to lock it. Anton and I both looked to see who'd walked into the bar after closing time. Then a familiar Irish voice growled,
"Get your fucking hands off her, you bastard, before I kill you."
4
Ronan
"Imight just kill him anyway, brother," I announced. "Gobshites like that don't deserve to live."
The cocksucker with his hands on Verity was about to learn a valuable lesson.
Honestly, he was fucking lucky Kyril hadn't joined us. That psycho would have ripped the asshole apart limb-from-limb and painted the floor with his intestines.
Conal and I were rather more restrained. OK, he was. Not gonna lie, I had anger management issues. So yes, murder was always on the menu for the right people, but in all fairness, we usually asked questions first.
It had been three years since I'd clapped eyes on my Italian princess. Three years ago, she'd been an awkward teen. Pretty but shy.
I wasn't blind, of course. Once she hit 17, the way she filled out a pair of jeans had caught my eye. She'd been too young, though, and also my sister's best friend. Off limits.
But not anymore.
Now, Verity was all-woman.
Curves for miles.
Gorgeous as fuck.
