Chapter 4
Vincenzo
That look of hatred she gave her own belly … that’s what drives me mad.
I’ve seen that look from so many women, and nothing ever comes close to fixing it.
Except one thing.
Vengeance.
The car pulls up to the place she mentioned. An old, beaten-down apartment building that doesn’t seem to ever get cleaned. I get out of the car, and the immediate stench of piss makes bile rise in my throat.
I swallow it down and check my watch.
Five minutes, in and out. Should be enough. Though I’m more than willing to spend my precious time on her … I am far from willing to spend any on the likes of the man who did this to her.
I head inside. The elevator is malfunctioning, so I take the staircase instead. It smells rank in here, and the sun barely penetrates through the small windows in the walls. Just the kind of place where I’d picture a dude who’d stick his dick inside a girl who doesn’t want it would live.
Once I’m up to the floor this Dean Johnson lives at, my heartbeat slowly picks up as I count down all the numbers on each door until I reach his.
I pause in front of the door and listen to the sounds coming from behind it.
Lots of screeching women. Moaning. Sloshing sounds like someone is vicariously stirring through some homemade butter. Not the good kind.
My nostrils begin to twitch again like they always do when my blood begins to boil.
Is this motherfucker busy with tricking yet another woman?
I knock on the door, then grab one of the tissues from my pocket and clean my fingers.
The mere thought of touching his things is disgusting, but I don’t want to alert the rest of the people living in this building by just breaking into his place.
I tuck the tissue back in my pocket and wait.
The sound of footsteps hurriedly shutting off whatever was moaning tells me it was a recording.
“Just a minute,” the voice calls.
I don’t hear any other people or footsteps as he rushes to the door.
It’s opened slightly, and he peeks at me through the slit. “What do you want?”
Within seconds, I’ve fished my gun from my pocket and shove it into the opening, putting a foot between so he can’t close it on me. “Move. Now.”
The man’s eyes widen, and he immediately steps back. I walk inside, breathing through my mouth because of the stench. There’s half-eaten food and unwashed clothes everywhere, the bane of my existence. Triggers all around, but the biggest of them all is the guy’s face.
“What do you want? I don’t have anything. No cash, nothing,” he squeals.
“Sit your ass down,” I growl, shoving him into the couch he was just on. I can still see the cum stain on the fake leather, as well as on his cheap pants.
“Please, just take anything you want,” he says, holding up his hands.
“What did you do to Emilia?” I ask.
He frowns, visibly confused. “Who?”
“Emilia!” I shove the gun further into his forehead. “Long black hair. Cupid lips. Pretty girl.” I seethe with rage. “Pregnant.”
His pupils dilate.
So he does know her.
“Pregnant?” he mutters, shaking his head. “No, that’s not possible. I—”
“So you do remember.” I pull the safety off the trigger.
“No, I don’t remember shit.” He’s gotten pretty pissed off at that comment, it seems. “Get the fuck out of my house.”
I pull away the gun, only to shoot his foot.
He shrieks in agony as blood gushes out.
“You fucking shot me!” he growls.
I point it at his crotch. “Yeah, and your dick is next if you don’t answer me.”
Panic seeps into his eyes. “Okay, okay, I knew her, yes!”
“How?”
“We had sex,” he splutters out.
“And?” I grit.
“She should’ve been on the pill.”
“She wasn’t,” I growl back. “And you refused a condom, didn’t you?”
Sweat drops roll down his forehead as he cowers in the corner of his couch. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to—”
“Don’t,” I say through gritted teeth. “Not to me.”
And I grab him by the collar and drag him out of this disgusting cave of a house and all the way down the staircase and out of the building, throwing him in the back of the car.
“Shield up. Lock him in place,” I tell my driver. “We’re going for a ride.”
***
He’s been kicking and screaming his lungs out in the back of my car for twenty minutes. To no avail, of course. This car is soundproof for a reason, as well as impervious to any kind of attack, whether from the inside or the outside.
That’s normal when it comes to my line of work.
But my usual victims are rich and sophisticated, not these boneheaded disgusting little perverts.
But for her, I will do the work.
I will stomach the stench of this filth as long as it takes just so I can fix what he broke.
Repairing small inches of this world is what I do best. Just picking up one broken porcelain teacup and gluing all the pieces together again with golden paint until it’s brand new and sparkling even brighter than it ever did before it was destroyed.
And she … she will fucking shine when I am done polishing her.
“Let me out!” Dean squeals from the back.
My hand forms a fist at the thought of this fucker touching her, let alone forcing her to have sex without protection. I was this close to just shooting his dick off and letting that be his punishment for his crime.
He should feel lucky he’s in the back of my car instead of buried underground.
When the car finally stops, I hop out and walk up to my guards at the front door. “Bring the fucker inside. Cuff him. Make sure he can’t do any harm.”
“Yes, sir,” they both reply, and I head inside. “Is she still there?” I ask one of the maids, who nods.
I walk upstairs, skipping a few steps, carefully placing my feet only on the spots I usually walk on, and go straight to her room. When I open the door, she’s seated down, brushing her hair in front of the mirror, still wearing the beautiful dress I bought for her.
“Vincenzo,” she mutters, her eyes glimmering as though she’s surprised to see me. “You’re back.”
I walk up to her, gazing at her beauty through the mirror. “You look gorgeous.”
She blushes, and I know, even if she were to deny it, my words obviously have an effect on her. “Thank you.”
“I have a gift for you.”
I snap my fingers, and the men waiting behind the door bring Dean inside.
Emilia’s pupils dilate, and she jolts up, knocking over the seat.
“Dean…” she mutters as the guard shoves him inside. “What are you …?”
My guard prods him with the gun, and her eyes home in on the bloodied hole in his shoe.
“Oh my God …” she murmurs, her hand propped in front of her mouth.
She almost approaches him until my guard takes off the safety of his gun. In the middle of the room, she stands frozen.
I walk up to her and place my hands on her shoulders.
“What did you do?” she asks, her voice unsteady. “You shot him?”
I whisper into her ear, “He hurt you, didn’t he?”
She doesn’t answer, but her hand slowly slides down to her belly.
“Exactly,” I say.
“No, I didn’t do it on purpose,” Dean says.
“You didn’t want to use a condom,” she says.
“I thought you were on the pill,” Dean stammers, sweating like crazy.
“I told you I wasn’t,” she replies, her voice getting more and more unhinged. Angered. Just like I anticipated.
Dean stares at her belly. “So it’s true? You’re pregnant?”
She nods, and I can feel her muscles coil up with rage.
“But I don’t want a freaking kid,” he mutters. “I don’t even know you.”
My fingers dig into her skin. “You don’t even know her? When you stuck your d—”
Emilia’s hand on mine silences me. “I don’t really know him either.”
I frown, confused.
“We just had … sex,” she mutters.
“And I fucking paid for it,” he adds.
Paid for it?
“You accepted it,” Dean says. “You knew this could happen.”
“Enough,” I say, and I waltz toward the guard, take his gun from him, and point it at Dean’s head. “You’ve given her enough pain.”
“Stop.” Emilia’s voice prevents me from pulling the trigger.
I turn to look at her.
“This isn’t right,” she says.
Dean whimpers in fear.
“He hurt you,” I say.
“I know …” She gazes down at her belly. “But it was my choice to let him pay for sex. I chose to do that. Not him.” She averts her eyes, unable to look at either of us. “I needed the money. Badly.”
My nostrils flare, and I lower my gun. Then I nod at the guard so he leaves us alone.
“Come here,” I say.
After a while, I hear her steps behind me.
I turn and place the gun in her hands.
“This was my gift to you … I’ll leave it up to you to decide his fate.”
She holds it with both hands, almost as if it’s too heavy of a burden for her to carry.
“Please,” Dean mutters. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I never thought it would. I swear, I will do whatever you want.” He’s crying now. “Please, don’t kill me.”
She stares at him, her fingers latching onto the gun like it’s her last lifeline, and all she wants to do is end her own misery.
But then she chucks it away.
“Bad choices made me pregnant,” she growls. “But they won’t turn me into a murderer.”
“Thank you,” Dean splutters with drool and tears all over his face.
“I never want to see your face near me or my mother’s house ever again. Do you hear me?”
He nods a few times.
She’s much more forgiving than I expected.
And much more merciful than I would have been.
Through gritted teeth, I tell Dean, “Leave.”
And he runs off, skittering away like a bug I was just about to squash.
Emilia was generous enough to let him keep his life. More generous than I ever would’ve been if I was in her position.
I turn to face her, but she seems unsteady on her feet. Just before she falls, I grab her and hold her against me. “Whoa. Are you okay?”
She breathes a few sighs. “That was … rough.”
“I’m sorry if I ended up hurting you too now,” I say. “I merely wanted to offer you a chance at payback.”
I can feel her swallow against my chest, and it makes all kinds of dirty images float through my head.
“But you didn’t take it.”
“I don’t want to be a monster,” she says.
What an innocent angel. Precious. Desirable.
She looks up at me with those same doe-eyes she gave me when I first saw her, and something about them unfurls a deep-seated desire that I’d kept buried for a long time.
“But I want to thank you,” she mutters. “For bringing him here. For making him face what he did.”
“What I do will never be enough to fix what he broke,” I say, my fingers slowly twirling around her hair, desperate to touch her, even when I know I shouldn’t.
“You’ve already given me so much,” she says, licking her lips, drawing so much attention to those luscious lips of hers.
I tilt her chin with my finger and lean in. “You deserve so much more.”
And without a second thought, I press my lips on hers.