With unnerving calm, he shrugs off his jacket, walks to my closet, retrieves a hanger, and meticulously hangs it up.
“What… what are you doing?” I stammer as his fingers move to his shirt buttons.
He unbuttons his shirt slowly, one button at a time, eyes locked on mine the entire time. Tugging the edges free from his pants, he slips it off, exposing his sculpted, taut muscles. My wrists strain against the tie, but it’s useless. Calmly, he hangs the shirt alongside his jacket, then turns back toward me.
“Please,” I beg. “Let me go. Please.”
“If you just answer me honestly, I won’t have to do anything else. Now tell me.”
“I…I don’t know why Carlo didn’t do anything that night,” I whisper brokenly. “Maybe he didn’t even notice.”
He scoffs, shaking his head. “Remember, this is all your fucking fault, princess.”
He moves closer and starts unbuttoning my jeans while I sob and beg him to stop. His hands are steady, almost calm, as he yanks the denim down my legs.
“There’s no fucking way Carlo missed that,” he growls. “He cracked open both his dead wives himself. You really think you can play me? I’m the master of this game, Lucia.”
I fight him, but he yanks my jeans down and throws them aside. The second his fingers touch my underwear, I scream, “He didn’t sleep with me!”
His hand freezes on the waistband. For a second, doubt flashes in his eyes.
“He didn’t kill me because he never found out what happened that night,” I cry out.
His fingers release the fabric, and he stands over me like a shadow of doom.
“You’re telling me you two don’t fuck?” he resumes the interrogation.
I shake my head hard. He stares at me for a long, painful moment, one brow raised. Finally, the corner of his mouth tugs into a grin, and he nods slowly, as if satisfied with my answer.
I swear, his face lights up, almost glowing. He touches his chin, tugs his lower lip down with his thumb, then asks, “Why?”
“I don’t know.”
He points his forefinger at me, ready to threaten me again, but this time, I cut him off, speaking with more conviction. “I swear to God, I don’t know. He never told me why.”
His hand drops, and for a moment, he just stares at me.
“I know why,” he mutters, almost to himself. “Carlo knows about Carmen’s dirty little secret too.”
I’m so desperate that I don’t even ask what he means. “Please, let me go now.”
He ignores my plea completely. “One last question, the most important one. Why didn’t you tell anyone?”
What am I supposed to say? That I’m still madly in love with you? That I protected you even if it meant my own death?
“Answer me, Lucia. You didn’t know Carlo wouldn’t touch you. Why didn’t you speak up? Why didn’t you turn me in?”
I press my lips together, my mind failing to come up with anything coherent. His exasperated sigh fills the room as his hand moves to his belt. He unbuckles the metal clasp and, in one move, pulls the leather strap free.
The sound of his belt sliding free sends pure panic surging through me.
“I was terrified he’d kill me,” I blurt out.
As his hand stills on the button of his pants, he gives me a suspicious look.
I do my best to sound convincing. “I didn’t think he’d believe me. I thought he’d kill me before even asking for an explanation.”
“But by the end of the night, he would’ve figured out someone had already pierced you,” he says bluntly. God, I just want to vanish into thin air.
