Chapter Two- Dior #2
“Buddha,” I cried tearfully when Luca began to lose consciousness. The last thing I wanted was for Buddha to go to prison. We did not come all the way to Italy just for my husband to land himself in a foreign jail. I wasn’t enough to stop him; I managed to squeeze past him and run back to the bar.
“Please, help me!” I shouted at the bartender and the other men who were seated, minding their business, drinking their beer and hard liquor.
“What’s wrong, Miss America?” The bartender asked with a worried look.
“They're fighting in the bathroom. You need to get in there,” I said, pointing in the direction. I’ve never felt so helpless in my entire life. The bartender was taking his sweet time, making his way from behind the bar.
“Jesus, hurry up,” I said, using my hands for emphasis.
Another man got up and made his way to where Buddha and Luca were.
Running behind him, I stood back as it took both the bartender and the patron to pry Buddha off Luca.
The way Luca’s body dropped with a loud thud, I swore Buddha had killed him.
“Does he have a pulse?” I heard the bartender mutter as he placed his hand against Luca’s neck.
“I hope he’s fucking dead,” Buddha said before turning his attention on me. Oh-oh, I was in big fucking trouble by the way the left side of his face was twitching.
“Come here,” he said, charging toward me with anger in his eyes, which had me backing away from him, almost tripping over my own two feet.
“Where the fuck did I tell you to go?” Buddha asked, snatching me by my upper arm.
I didn’t even get a chance to answer; all I knew was that I was being dragged out of the bar like a badly behaved teenager.
I tried to see if Luca had regained consciousness, but it looked as though he was still knocked out.
The bartender was busy slapping his face, trying to revive him.
“Stop it, Buddha,” I pleaded because his hand was about to cut off my circulation. We were walking back to the hotel, but it felt more like I was being dragged back. Suddenly, Buddha stopped and faced me. I let out a surprised yelp when he placed both his hands on my throat.
“I asked you a fucking question, Dior. Where did I tell you to go?” Once again, I was scared of this man. His eyes had gone cold again, and I knew he was absolutely livid.
“I did go back to the hotel.”
“Did you?”
“Yes, but when I got back, I saw Francesco and Luca in the lobby. I panicked, hurried out, and came here. I guess Luca spotted me and decided to follow me to the bar. Please, Buddha, my neck,” even though I explained the best that I could. My best clearly wasn’t good enough.
“What’s wrong with your fucking phone? I tried calling you.
Did you switch off? After giving you your phone back, that’s what you decided to do, switch your phone off on me!
” He yelled in my face. A couple of people walking by looked at us with curiosity.
Thank goodness we lived in another country because this was fucking embarrassing.
“My phone died, Buddha. Why would I turn it off after I begged you to give it back to me?” I became slightly teary-eyed. Buddha was treating me like a child, and I did not like it.
“Let me see your phone,” he demanded. Reaching into my pocket, I took my phone out and handed it to him. I looked on in silence as he tried the power button, and nothing happened. Finally, he took his other hand from off my neck.
“I should find a la stanza buia (dark room) to lock your ass in,” he said through his clenched teeth.
“Now, fucking walk,” he shoved me forward.
I contemplated slapping the shit out of him, but I knew that wouldn’t work out well for me.
So, instead of putting up a fight, I walked back to the hotel in silence.
Neither of us said a word as we entered the hotel’s entrance. The elevator ride to our floor felt like hours instead of a few seconds. Once inside the privacy of our room, Buddha jacked me up against the back of the door. With one hand on my shoulder, he pointed at me with his other hand.
“What if I hadn’t gotten there in time, Dior?
Hmm, then fucking what? If your phone is dead...
” he said, taking my phone out of his pocket and waving it in my face.
“...then you bring your ass back to the hotel. In the first fucking place you shouldn’t have fucking left!
” He shouted in frustration before slamming his palm into the door behind me.
I jumped so bad, I almost pissed myself.
“Here was the safest place for you to be. You come up here and lock the fucking door. If you still feel uneasy, knock on Tomasso’s door and stay there until I get back!” Buddha continued shouting at me, and I was over it.
“Get outta my face, Buddha,” I shoved at his chest in a weak attempt to put some space between us. Of course, he didn’t even move an inch. I just added fuel to the fire.
“Is it my fault Luca is a sick mothafucka? No! Don’t try to twist everything around.
You fucking sent me away, so you can speak with your precious Catalina alone.
What the fuck were you doing all this time?
You and fucking Catalina and Enzo were in the kitchen stuffing cannolis!
Get the fuck outta my face!” I yelled just as loud because Buddha wasn’t the only one upset.
“Is that the reason you left the hotel? Because of Catalina, someone I haven’t seen in fucking years. Fuck outta here,” Buddha waved me off and finally moved away from me.
“I already told you why I left! I can’t do this with you; it’s one thing after another. If it’s not you, it’s someone in your family. I want out of this marriage, Buddha!” I screamed hysterically. I started to feel as though I was losing my fucking mind.
“You want out of what, Dior?” He asked, very calmly, and faced me as he casually shoved his hands inside his pockets. I could tell he was daring me to say what was on my mind by the way he was looking at me. I wasn’t about to back down, though, not today.
“I want out of this marriage, out of your family and all the drama that comes with being a Ricci. Just let me go home, Buddha. Let me be with my sister,” I was hoping to reach somewhere deep in his heart, a part that wasn’t frozen.
Praying Buddha would hear and understand my pleas and agree to let me go.
“So what is it you crave, space? You want me to put your ass on a rocket ship and launch your ass into the universe?” Buddha’s question made me frown because what the fuck was he even talking about?
“What? What the fuck do you mean, rocket ships and outer space?” I asked, wondering if he was losing his marbles.
Buddha’s facial expression changed, and I took a step back as he began to walk toward me.
“That’s the only way you’re about to get away from me.
You’ll need to hop your ass in a mothafucking rocket ship and land on Pluto or one of those mothafuckas.
And even then, when you get back, you’ll still be my wife, and we’ll pick up right where we left off.
We locked in,” he lifted his hand and pointed at his wedding ring.
This man was such a fucking lunatic. Balling my hands into fists because nothing was about to get me out of this marriage. I opened my mouth, looked him dead in the eyes, and released an earth-shattering scream.
“Aaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh!” Buddha didn’t budge; his eyes showed not an ounce of emotion. The next thing I knew, he grabbed me behind my neck and pulled me to him. I gasped more from shock than fright.
“Are you done acting a fool, petardo (firecracker)?” Buddha asked, tightening his grip on my neck, always trying to intimidate me.
“I’ll never be done,” I replied with a smirk, trying to get on his nerves. Instead, he gave the widest smile as though he was proud of what I said.
“Good, we wouldn’t want our marriage to get boring, Dior. Especially seeing how you like it rough.”
Oh, I wasn’t about to make this easy on him.
I was about to stress this man out. “You wanna see boring? I bet you’ll never get to fuck this pussy again in a long mothafucking time.
” Buddha’s eyes were focused on my lips as I talked my shit.
As expected, my words had little to no effect on him; he released a big, broad smile.
“Now, Dior, don’t you know your husband by now? Talking like that only gets my dick hard.” Bending his head, he kissed me roughly, shoving his tongue in my mouth. I became highly annoyed with myself when I kissed him back. I was so fucking weak for this man; it was pathetic.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Someone was knocking on the door so hard it rattled. Buddha pulled back from me and instinctively placed me behind him.
“Stand here,” he instructed, as he walked toward the door and swung it open.
“You tried to kill my son, you maledetto stronzo (fucking asshole)!” Francesco barged into our room with a look in his eyes that said he was out for blood.
I took a few steps away because he looked like he was ready to kill someone. Buddha didn’t seem intimidated in the least. He glared at Francesco, his eyes lowered to Francesco’s hand.
“Are we wearing our fancy jewelry? Nobody told me; let me get mine. Hold the fuck on,” Buddha held up his index finger as he walked over to the dresser and opened the second drawer.
Unsure of what Buddha meant, I looked at Francesco’s hand.
I made a face when I saw he had brass knuckles on his right hand.