I spin the baseball bat in my hands. He launches, throwing the knife and diving forward. I snatch the gun from my back and shoot him straight in the leg. He collapses to the floor, screaming out. As I step closer, I shoot his hand. Then I step closer still, shooting out his kneecap. He flops back on the floor, panting, his eyes wide in fear as I stand over him, gun pointing at his chest and baseball bat relaxed at my side. I flick it up onto my shoulder and grin down at him.
“Be thankful I don’t have all day.” I pull the trigger and watch as he gasps before the laboured breathing silences. The only sound is a small huff from me as I step over him. I tug the gun away and drop the baseball bat beside the body as I climb over his limp appendages. I slip the knife out of its sheath and slide it over his skin, gouging crosses into his eyes. “You picked the wrong side, Giuseppe. No one will remember your family name now.” I carve him up. Climb to my feet and head back towards the stairs.
“Tommaso, there’s nowhere to run!” I bellow. I hear the scuffle of feet, the squeak as he runs across floors trying to find an escape. He’s clumsily crashing into things. I must havehit him harder than I thought. I hear the rattle of doors and windows. The yelling, screaming. I corner him near the entrance to the garage.
The door is locked and unmovable. He puts his foot against the frame before tugging and yanking at the door, trying to rip it open. He slowly turns around, his hands raised in defence, his eyes dart past me, and back again.
“P-p-please… Arianna, I… it wasn’t… I’m sorry.”
“Now, now, Tommaso, you know what you did. Time to pay.”
“I can pay. I will pay. I have money.”
“I don’t want your money, Tommaso. I want your soul.” I snatch at the knife and throw it. It stabs straight into Tommaso’s neck. His eyes widen, his hands grasp at the knife; he rips it out as it clatters to the ground, his breath stutters as blood pumps from the now gaping wound.
“Idiota,” I mutter. Shaking my head, I just watch as he slides down the wall, his eyes rolling, his breathing over exaggerated, in and out like he can’t quite remember how to breathe. I crouch down in front of him. I stare at his face.
His eyes track me, staring at me as his skin pales, his eyes glaze, and the pool of blood seeps out around him. I pick the knife from the floor and stab straight into his eyes. I don’t wait for him to take his last breath, I simply carve. Etching an eerie smile across his face, I grin back at him.
“Game over, Tommaso.” I stand, slipping my knife back into the sheath, and head towards the office.
I contemplate what I want from my meeting with Mateo. I want everything from him. I want to take everything; I want the realisation that he lost to really sink in, and when it’s all gone, I’ll burn it all down around him.
I push through into his office, and he’s tied to his chair with a gag around his mouth. Vittorio is lounging on the desk.Sulley and Jonah stand on either side of his chair, and Luca is standing beside the door.
All eyes fly to me as I walk in, and Sulley steps forward, tugging down the gag. Mateo starts spluttering and yelling. You don’t know what you’re doing, blah blah blah, but I’m tired; it’s been a long day.
“Shut the fuck up, Mateo. I’ve had a long day. Sulley, cut him free. Mateo, open up your banking. I want everything transferred.”
“Fuck you. You’ll get nothing. I will die rather than sign anything over to a dirty fucking whore like you. Just kill me already, you psychotic…”
Bang, I shoot him straight between the eyes. “Fuck it, burn it all.” I turn and walk away, heading to the car.
I want to go home, I want a shower, and I want to fuck my husband.
Bellino
Chapter Twenty-Six
I can’t say I’m surprised he went to a lawyer, but I am surprised at how quickly he went. He’s still unsure, the way he raised his chin in defiance by the pool, but then scurried after me, he’s conflicted, and I’m gonna enjoy wearing him down. He was so close, verging on the edge of snapping back, then recoiling. It’s beautiful. I find myself enjoying those moments of defiance, those little bites where he pushes back; it’s extremely sexy. And it’s going to make his submission to the whole situation far more satisfying than I was expecting.
I’m actually enjoying having him around. I could have watched him swim for hours. His long, lean body glistened as he cut through the water; his muscles flex and twist with every stroke, and I found myself mesmerised by his movements.
The following weeks are a mix of him ignoring me, pretending I’m not in the room, his gaze darts around me,even though his skin pebbles when I speak, and he has to acknowledge me. When he cracks and snaps back at me, the snark that seeps out before he tries to rein it in is just exquisite, and my evenings follow with me watching him swim. I watch him strip out of his clothes. The way he slides the fabric over his body makes me hard. The way he dives in, he’s so fucking elegant. I watch every inch of skin as it moves and ripples under his movement. It’s perfection. Not a mark mars it, and I want to leave teeth marks. I want to litter it with fingerprints where I grip his hips and pound into him. I want to kiss and bite and lick along his neck, his jaw, his shoulder. I want to suck and bruise that sensitive bit right behind his ear. I long to mark his perfect chest, his defined abs, the way he licks his lips when he’s thinking. I want to bite that lip. I want to see the blood pool, and I groan.
“Mr Ricci.” I’m broken from my inner thoughts by the housekeeper. “Mr Ricci hasn’t arrived home yet.” I glare at her before checking my watch. I’ve been so lost in my thoughts, and I hadn’t realised how late it was. I pull out my phone and dial his number; straight to voicemail. I pull up the tracking app because I’m not completely insane. His phone is in the back of the university car park. I check his watch tracking, and that’s in the same place as his phone. I pull up the car’s data. Same place as the phone and the watch.
Maybe he’s just sitting there talking to a friend. But that thought sparks something in me. He’s been consistent in his timing arriving home. He’s normally home within thirty minutes. But, checking my watch, he’s over an hour late. That doesn’t feel right. I clench my fists, the hairs on the back of my neck tingle, and I snarl.
“I’ll deal with it,” I snap as I rush to my feet and head to the university.
I swear if he’s with a girl, I will wring his neck. If he’s with a guy, then all bets are off. I’ll destroy them both.
Leonardo
Chapter Twenty-Seven
My final class of the day is over. Everything’s ramping up, ready for graduation, and I’m excited, scared, and downright exhausted. I stop by the coffee cart in the foyer, and as I step outside, I see Darius. I make my way over to him.
