The man’s eyes fly open as the epinephrine rushes through his system, and he struggles against the restraints holding him to the chair. This is the third EpiPen we hit him with tonight, and at best it’ll buy us another minute or two of consciousness.
I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted him to suffer.
But it wasn’t because he tried to killme.
Every time I look down at this man, all I see is Bella’s dark hair spilling across the floor. I can feel the press of her body against mine, and remember the desperate weight of her as she tackled me to the ground.
And when I breathe, I swear I can still smell her scent that made me want to bury my face in the curve of her neck andinhale.
Tonight, I’m more bothered than usual by her. But it’s not by her beauty. Nor her seductive eyes. Nor her singular devotion to her job when she tackled me to the ground as the bullets started flying.
No, it was a defiant jut of her chin. A proud lift that I saw once upon a time, when I had a gun pressed against Luca Farnassi’s head.
A flicker of suspicion rushed through me from the moment I saw Bella repeat the same hated gesture that seared itself into my mind. I wanted to dismiss it as a pure coincidence.
Then I saw her necklace, heard her answer, and knew that God had a cruel sense of humor.
Family heirloom, she said.
Little fucking liar.
I knew exactly where that necklace came from, because I spent months adjusting the design by millimeters, obsessing over proportions until they looked right.
Seven points for the seven months of secrecy. A diamond at the center because she deserved something that would last forever. Gold because silver was too common, too ordinary, and tooexpectedfor a woman who had never been any of those things.
Until Luca Farnassi helped take her away from me in the worst way possible, and then stole the necklace for himself.
After killing him, I swore that I would destroy everything Luca ever touched, everything he ever loved, until there was nothing left of his memory but ash.
I hadn’t counted on Bella Creminelli being one of those things that Luca loved.
No,I remind myself.Not Bella Creminelli. Bella Farnassi.
There are too many goddamn coincidences for Bella to be anyone elsebutLuca’s little sister. To think that I had the final piece of my revenge at my beck and call for months. To think that I’ve spent those same months fantasizing about all the terrible, inappropriate things I wanted to do to her.
And this whole damn time, she’s been wearingmynecklace around her throat like a trophy she doesn't know she's carrying.
My cock stirs against my thigh, and I want to put my fist through the concrete wall.
I could have taken it tonight. In the alley, with the chaos as cover, it would have been easy.
Just reach out, unclasp the chain, and let the weight of it fall into my palm. She couldn't have stopped me. She wouldn’t have even understood what was happening until it was already done.
I didn't.
Because taking it by force would have meant nothing. It would’ve been just another theft. And I’m no thief, and I know there’s no satisfaction from taking the necklace from Bella's throat.
I want her toofferit willingly.
I want her to uncover the truth herself. I want her to dig into the past and find the rotten truth. I want her to realize, with her own two eyes, that her brother was a thief and a traitor and a man who deserved exactly what he got.
I want the truth to crack her open slowly and methodically. And then I want her to come to me on her hands and knees.
Not dragged. Not forced. Willingly.
I want her to look me in the eyes and beg me for forgiveness. Then, and only then, will Ibreakher in every way a man can break a woman.
Because punishment is only sweet when the one being punished begs you for it.
