16. Diavolo
DIAVOLO
Portia can’t decide if she’s more startled by my question, my presence, or the room she’s found herself in.
It seems like all three things have overloaded her, scrambling her brain to the point she’s frozen in place, wide-eyed and speechless.
There’s a certain… allure about her when she’s like this.
I’ll give Rafael that much.
The way her throat works when she swallows and her beasts heave when she breathes hard captures my attention. Her dark eyes flicker between strong-willed determination and the kind of intense fear that’s almost erotic in the darkest, most sinister way.
It certainly piques my interest even more.
I reach behind me, fingers rotating the lock on the doorknob into place with a resounding click .
She draws in a sharper breath and her nostrils flare as she tries her damnedest like she always does; she tries so hard to hold it together yet fails so spectacularly.
I see right through Portia James and her tough act. She’s terrified of not only the devil who stands before her but of the man who she hoped would save her. The same man who’s kept a shrine in her honor for years now.
Every moment she’s ever shared with him has been according to plan.
I start closing the gap between us, boxing her in like you would an animal being cornered. She seems to figure this out the closer I make it, but it’s already too late.
There’s nowhere for her to escape to, and nothing she can do as I come within reach. We hold each other’s gaze, an unmistakable tension pulsing around us. It permeates the air to such an intense degree it’s combustible.
It’s the same kind of fire we were playing with last night when Portia dared to stab me with the shard of glass. My shoulder throbs at the memory.
What resistance will she put up tonight when I push her to her limits? What ways can I make her scream and revolt?
Her death has always been an inevitable, but what if I made things fun and spent some time tormenting her? You learn a lot about a person when you see them in their most frightened moments; you can tell who somebody really is when you destroy them and see what’s hidden on the inside.
I think I’ll make a point of finding out with Portia.
But first she deserves to know all about the man she’s romanticized in her head.
I gesture to the wall behind her, where photographs of her through the years are pinned. “You see these? If you were to ask him, he’d consider them collector’s items. He went through a lot of trouble getting them. He’s been watching you for years.”
“Don’t come any closer,” she snaps. “I don’t have any interest in what you have to say!”
She doesn’t move—can’t really move—trapped between the heavy desk and the advancing threat I impose. Her back is already pressed against the edge of the wood, her hands braced behind her like she’s weighing whether to fight or flee.
“I said don’t come any closer,” she repeats, a tremor to her voice. “I don’t want to hear what you have to say!”
I pretend not to hear her. There’s a reason people can’t help staring at a fire, even when they know it can burn them alive.
“Rafael first saw you years ago,” I say, closing the last few feet of distance.
“He caught one of your morning news broadcasts. You were covering some traffic accident, and he was smitten from the first moment he saw you on his screen. There was just something about you he couldn’t resist. He had to know more. ”
Her breathing shallows. She leans away from me as I cage her in, close enough her scent perfumes the air.
It’s become familiar the more time I spend around her, light floral notes like jasmine that my brain now associates with her.
She knows I’m too close now. Close enough the scent of her skin—soap, fear, maybe even a trace of perfume left from the morning—wraps around me.
I tilt my head slightly and reach for her.
She doesn’t flinch this time. Not right away.
It’s only when I thread a strand of her hair between my fingers, the silky length gliding against my skin, that she jolts.
She’s on edge, slowly unraveling before my eyes.
That’s what I want.
I tuck the strand behind her ear with a quiet, practiced gentleness, then linger there, letting the backs of my fingers skim her cheek. I can see her pulse thudding in her throat. See how badly she wants to recoil from me, but she doesn’t.
Maybe she knows it wouldn’t matter.
“After that day, he couldn’t stop,” I continue. “He started watching the news every morning, waiting to catch a glimpse of you. You made his mornings tolerable. Hell, you made them sacred. He rearranged meetings just to catch your segments live.”
My voice lowers, dragging with it the weight of something darker.
“But watching wasn’t enough. Not for him. He wanted to know more. And a man like Rafael? He doesn’t ask questions when he wants answers. He digs. He pays. He takes.”
Portia’s eyes widen, the disbelief flickering in her gaze beginning to twist into horror. I lean my weight into the hand now resting beside her on the desk, hemming her in. The other stays just inches from her, poised like I might reach for her again.
“He learned everything. Where you lived. Where you liked to eat. What time you walked to your car. Who you were fucking. And when.”
“Get away from me,” she spits, pushing against my chest, but I don’t budge.
I don’t even blink .
“You think he fell in love with you after meeting you?” I ask, my voice colder, losing any semblance of humor. “You were his obsession before you even knew his name.”
The panic sharpens her breaths—they come faster, shallower, more uneven.
I lean in further, watching her face from behind the mask, taking in every twitch of muscle, every frantic dart of her gaze. She keeps her eyes fixed on the center of the mask like she’s searching for Rafael inside it.
But he’s gone.
“Rafael tried so hard to fight what he was becoming,” I murmur. “He tried to silence the darkness, tried to bury it somewhere deep so he could be the man you wanted.”
I pause, lowering my voice until it’s barely audible, like a secret meant only for her.
“But it was always a losing battle, dolcezza.”
Her hands shake. Her chest rises and falls. She stares at me, pupils dilated wide with a mixture of shock and horror.
The truth has finally hit her, rocking her to the bone.
I let the reality sink in, then offer the final sharp and lethal twist of the blade.
“Because I was never going to let him win.”
She sucks in a small intake of air like she really has been nicked by a blade while I howl in wolfish laughter.
It’s rare that I laugh, but few situations are as amusing as this.
Rafael’s obsession really thought she could escape; she really believed he would swoop in and somehow save the day.
She doesn’t just fail to realize who she’s dealing with, she seems woefully ignorant about what’s in store for her.
There will be no happy endings to be found here, and it’s best she gets that through her stubborn little head sooner than later. It’ll make it much easier when she meets her fate.
My laughter reverberates through the room, loud and inescapable.
Portia’s eyes mist over as she watches the maniacal laughter boom out of me. She’s truly disturbed, truly horrified by what she’s seeing.
Good.
Let her be terrified.
Let her realize she hasn’t seen true suffering yet. Let her realize the worst is yet to?—
CRACK!
My head explodes in blinding pain. I stumble back several steps, throwing my arms up to shield myself and grab at Portia.
She’s seized hold of the brass lamp on the desk and swung it at my fucking head. She mustered whatever strength she had and swung it with the goal of slipping free. As I stagger back, she’s doing just that, dashing from the spot where I’ve trapped her between the desk and me.
I’m seeing stars. The pain throbs in my skull, bright bursts of light before my eyes. I’m so fucking angry I release a howl and rip off the devil mask.
She hasn’t made it far. Mostly because there’s nowhere else to go—the door is locked and the premises are heavily surveilled by security.
There’s no way she’s getting off the Bellucci estate alive.
But seeing her at the door, grappling with the handle, desperately twisting at the lock, ignites a fresh wave of fury inside me.
Any pain falls by the wayside. Adrenaline floods me instead, pounding in my veins.
My once flashy vision narrows to Portia and only Portia.
I set off toward her, closing the gap between us in a few quick strides. I admit as I charge toward her, fuming with rage, I’m not sure what I’m about to do.
If I’m about to throw my plans out the window and end her here and now. If I’m about to drag her willingly—or not-so-willingly—all the way back to the room inside the villa and lock her away.
Or if I’m going to simply hurt her until dark satisfaction fills me and I decide when to stop.
Frankly, all three options are on the table.
When I reach her, she half turns toward me with a startled, wide-eyed look on her face that’s so genuine and honest it’s captivating on its own.
Maybe it’s that look alone that rewires the chemicals in my brain at the last possible second.
As I reach for her, hands clamping shut on her arms, I find I no longer want to crush her. Not in the way that I initially intended when I stalked over. In an abrupt twist that’s a surprise even to me, I’m drawn to Portia James in an entirely different way.
My grip tightens on her arms and I drag her toward me. Our mouths crash together in a brutal kiss that’s anything but sweet and gentle.
Portia immediately stiffens in my hold, her lips dead against mine. But the fury surges through my veins and I press down harder, kissing her rougher, like I’m trying to devour her.
Possess her.
And that’s what this is about—it’s a moment of dominance and nothing more. I’m letting her know I can do what I want when I want, and she’s powerless to stop me.
She starts fighting back, twisting in my arms and pushing at my chest.
The more her desperation grows, the more my hunger to consume her does.
My tongue forces its way into her mouth, finding hers for a duel. She’s warm and wet to explore, so soft even when she fights so hard.
Nerve endings I wasn’t even aware of crackle to life as I kiss her deeply and she writhes in my arms. Then her fingers twine in my shirt like she’s reached a point beyond frustration.
Our mouths are fused together and there’s no escape to be found.
The only choice left is surrender.
Her tongue lashes against mine as if she just can’t help herself any longer. She can’t push back another moment.
I step forward and flatten her against the door. My hands map her body, gripping and groping her slim curves as I kiss the ever-living fuck out of her, and she releases a panting little moan.
Interesting.
Is this the sound she makes when she’s with him? Is this how hot and flushed she becomes when he touches her like this?
My mouth leaves hers and starts at the corner of jaw where it meets her throat. I suck at the delicate, sensitive sliver of skin and force a deep shudder out of her.
Knock. Knock.
“Boss, it’s time for your meeting with Don Morelli.”
We both jump apart like we’ve suddenly burned each other. The voice is coming from the other side of the door. One of my soldiers has arrived, undoubtedly searching for me after my prolonged absence.
I’m husking air into my lungs, a few strands of hair hanging over my brow. Portia’s even more startled than before, eyes wild and lips fuller. She stares at me like I’m unlike anything she’s ever seen before.
I slide fingers through my hair, slicking the strands back into place. Then I turn and find the mask I’d discarded in a rash moment of anger and return it to its rightful place on my face.
She stumbles aside to make room for me as I head for the door. I might as well be a wild animal liable to bite at any moment; after the way I’ve kissed her, I’m sure she feels justified.
“Take her back to her chambers,” I command the guard once I step outside. “Ensure the room’s secure with no chance of escape.”
I don’t turn and look back at her. I stride from the guesthouse with my mind made up on the new direction I want to take.
Portia James is going to meet her tragic ending, but first I’m going to make a point to have my fun unraveling her.