“It’s a pair of earrings,” he says, his voice dripping with a frustration he can’t conceal. “Cartier. I thought…”
His words die as I slowly, deliberately lift my gaze from the rug to the box, and then to him. I let him see the absolute, bottomless contempt in my eyes. I let him see that his attempt to buy my affection, to paper over what he did with gemstones is the most pitiful, disgusting thing I have ever witnessed.
And he sees it.
He reads the judgment in my stare, and it infuriates him. He’s so used to buying the entire fucking world that he doesn’t know what to do now that money can’t solve this, can’t fix this.
His jaw clenches, and a muscle ticks in his cheek. He looks like a little boy who’s had his toy taken away. A furious, entitled little boy.
The door to the suite opens then with a soft, hesitant click. Mateus appears from the other side. “Antonio, sorry to disturb…”
He doesn’t get to finish. Antonio’s rage, thwarted and boiling, suddenly finds its outlet. He spins on Mateus, a whirlwind of violence.
“Who told you to interrupt me?” he roars, crossing the room in two strides. Mateus’s eyes actually widen in shock. He tries to back away, but Antonio is on him. He grabs him by the arm, yanking him fully into the room, and backhands him across the face. The sound is a sickening crack that echoes in the silent room.
I don’t move, I don’t scream. I just watch, my blood running cold. This is the man I… No. I cannot even finish the thought.
He hits him again, and Mateus crumples to the floor with a whimper. He kicks him, his polished shoe connecting with Mateus’s ribs. “You worthless piece of shit. You think you can just walk into my private rooms? You think your time is as valuable as mine?”
He is losing it.
That facade of a controlled, powerful man is crumbling, revealing the rotten, furious core I know is beneath. He beats Mateus until he is curled into a ball on his precious rug, which is now stained blood.
Finally, he stops, breathing heavily. He straightens his suit jacket, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair, carefully avoiding the part where his flesh was melted. “Get out,” he spits at him. “And send someone to clean up this mess.”
Mateus scrambles to his feet, fleeing without a backward glance as Antonio turns his wild eyes back to me.
I have not moved a muscle. My expression hasn’t changed. The contempt is still there, now mixed with a fresh layer of horror and that seems to unsettle him more than my silence.
He needs a reaction. When the whole world revolves around you, silence is the one thing you cannot handle.
He crosses the room and grabs my arm, his fingers digging in brutally. “Get up,” he orders, and yanks me to my feet. I don’t resist. There is no point. He drags me out of the French doors and onto the wide, sun-drenched balcony. The beauty of the day is a cruel joke.
He releases me and I stumble back a step, righting myself against the cold stone balustrade.
“What do you want from me?” he demands, his voice a raw shout that seems to startle the birds in the cypress trees below. “What? What will it take? What do you expect of me, Grace?”
My voice is a hoarse whisper after being unused for days. “I expect nothing from a monster.”
He flinches as if I’ve struck him. “I am your Master.” he roars, advancing on me. “I bought you. You are my possession, to use as I see fit. For business, for pleasure, to share with whoever I want if it goddamn pleases me. You have no right to judge me. No right to act like some heartbroken lover. I never made you any promises.”
And that is what breaks the dam inside me. Not the violence, not the cruelty but this, this lie. This revision of our history to suit his narrative, his ego.
I lift my head, and for the first time since that night, I look him directly in the eyes. “You did promise.”
He scoffs, trying to wave it away. “I never said the words.”
“You promised with your heart,” I say, my voice gaining a sliver of strength, sharp as a shard of glass. “Every time you looked at me as if I were the only person in your world. Every time you touched me like you were claiming a part of your own soul. You promised when you kept me in your bed all night, not for sex, but just to hold me. You promised with your actions, Antonio, and you broke that promise in the most vile way imaginable. I will never forgive you for that. Never.”
His face contorts in rage. My words, my truth have found their mark. He closes the distance between us in a heartbeat, his hand snapping out to encircle my throat.
He doesn’t squeeze enough to cut off my air, but enough to show me he could.
Enough to make me feel his power, his ownership.
“I can do what I like,” he hisses, his face inches from mine. His eyes are so fucking black, so murderous. “You are nothing to me. A beautiful thing I acquired. A toy, and nothing more.”
I don’t struggle, I don’t try to pull his hand away. I just hold his gaze and with the little air I have, I gasp, “Then why are you so upset?”
