Chapter Eleven
I walk into the basement, locking my emotions down tight.
I need to do this. The need to be systematic, not emotional, settles me.
I rein everything in, wrapping my emotional state up with a nice little fucking bow and place it in the corner of my psyche.
It’s been a week. I’ve internally gone through every emotion imaginable.
On the outside, I’ve just been withdrawn until I broke, and Vittorio held those pieces together like it was his calling.
In that moment, I knew we would burn the world together, but this, this is my match to light.
Matteo’s gaze turns to me when I walk in.
He smiles a real, genuine smile. Like he’s happy to see me.
Like he doesn’t know what is about to happen.
That this isn’t going to be the last time he draws breath.
“Arianna.” He smiles, sitting straighter in his chair.
I grin at him. “Matteo,” I acknowledge. The door creaks open again, and my two new bodyguards step inside.
Matteo’s eyes bug out as they step on either side of him.
Over six feet of solid brooding muscle, permanent scowls etched across their weathered faces.
They both exude a silent strength as they take their positions.
I nod to each of them, and they lean down and cut the ties off his legs first, before cutting his hands free.
He snatches his wrists, rubbing over each one, at the angry red bloody marks, crusty from days of him trying to get free.
But I made sure there was no wiggle room.
“Who are they?” he grits out through his teeth.
“Glad you asked, Matteo. These are your replacements. An upgrade, if you will.” I smile at him.
Not a genuine smile. A forced grimacing smile.
These two guys I got from Deano, some of his new hires.
Trusted by him. They’ve worked together.
They’ve seen things they shouldn’t have.
I already feel safer having them around.
Deano has vouched for them, and after extensive interviews, I hired them.
Their expertise and values, along with their work ethic, shone above all the others. Luca is still with me, but now it’s his sole responsibility to protect Marianne and the house. Jonah and Sulley are my bodyguards now. Ex-Marines—quiet, stoic, efficient, and deadly.
I nod to each of them, and they grab Matteo, yanking and tugging at his clothes until he’s naked.
He yells and screams, lashing out. Kicking and fighting, for all the good it will do him.
Jonah grabs the chains from the table and fixes the cuffs around Matteo’s wrists.
They hoist him onto the hook in the ceiling.
His feet barely skim the floor as he’s secured.
“Mrs Bianchi, is there anything else you need?”
Did I also mention how polite they are? “No, thank you, Jonah. You can wait outside.”
“Ma’am.” They both nod respectfully and step outside the door.
I walk over to the chair. I tilt it back onto two legs and drag it towards him.
It screeches through the room. The piercing scraping noise reverberates around the space.
I make my way towards him. I turn the chair, sitting on it backwards and resting my elbows on it, glaring up at him.
“Arianna, you don’t have to do this; it’s just a misunderstanding. We can make this work. Me and you. We can be together. You know we make more sense than you and him.”
I huff out at him. “Ah, Matteo, you don’t even compare to him.”
“That’s not true, Arianna. You know we have something special. You know we can be so fucking good together. You know it felt right.”
“Is that what you think? It felt right? When I was unconscious. While I was incoherent, it felt so good to you. Is that what you want me to believe? That it was a misunderstanding, that we were making love, not that you were raping me? Just so I get the facts right.” I keep my voice hollow, void of emotion, just facts; my monotone voice seeps through the room.
“You know it wasn’t like that, Arianna, you know it. You want me. If we get rid of Vittorio, we can be together. We can take out Bellino too, and take over. We can rebuild, Arianna. We could be good together.”
I lash out. I punch him straight in the dick, and he coughs out and wheezes as I take his breath away.
His body tries to curl in on itself, but being hooked from the ceiling, he can’t.
He gasps, and I climb from the chair and head over to the small table in the corner.
I drag that towards him and leave it just to the side of my chair, far enough away from him that he can’t do anything with it.
Then I make my way to the wall, the wall where Father’s tools are. I take his large hunting knife off the bracket, and I slide my hoodie off, wiping the knife onto it. I take it and lay it down on the table.
“Arianna, please, you know we could make this work. It’s a misunderstanding.
You know I would never hurt you. Arianna, I love you.
” I walk away, back over to the tools, and I take hold of some tin snips and a screwdriver.
I make my way back to the chair. I take my time sitting down.
I’m feeling rather dramatic. I take the lighter I have from my pocket.
I place the snips down on the table, and I light the lighter, running the screwdriver through the flame.
I stare, fixated on the flicker of the oranges and yellows.
The blue centre dances as the screwdriver passes through it. I wait until the blade glows red.
Matteo’s body is frozen in place. His gaze wide, fixed like a deer in the headlights, shallow, quick breaths echo around the room, probably feeling that if he doesn’t move, I won’t notice him, his naked frame dangling from the ceiling.
He’s staring at the flame and hoping for a better outcome, wishing this were all a dream.
I glance up at him and lurch forward, thrusting the screwdriver straight into his penis.
Jabbing him halfway up the shaft, he screams out as he tries to push away, but his toes just skim the floor.
I withdraw the screwdriver. The tension leaves his body, and his head drops to his chest, his rough panting and moaned sobs soothe my soul.
I heat it up again. I take my time. I concentrate on the flicker of the flame. Tears stream down his face.
“Arianna, please!” he sobs. I don’t even look up.
I start to hum as I wait, moving the screwdriver back and forth through the fire.
I heat the tip until it’s red hot and glowing.
I stab straight into his dick again. Skewering it like a kebab.
I hold it there while he screams and thrashes, and when it cools and he collapses against the chains, I pull it out and heat it up all over again, humming the eerie little tune.
When I’ve pierced up his shaft five times, I stare up at him, the piss-soaked floor, the tears streaming down his face, the smell of burnt flesh. I smile up at him. A real, genuine smile. Probably the first since I’ve been back. I start to feel a little more like myself.
“Ahh, Matteo, I’m just getting started.” I heat the shaft of the screwdriver again, and grin up at him as I stand and thrust it into his stomach.
The hiss of his flesh as the screwdriver pushes its way inside makes me smile.
The tears flow freely now. His head hangs to his chest as he cries out.
I sit back down and heat it again. I go hotter, longer this time, building the anticipation.
I stand holding the lighter with the tip in it, red and glowing.
I let spittle slide over my bottom lip, allowing it to splash down on the screwdriver. The hiss pierces the room as the steam floats up. I grin at him and lunge, stabbing it straight into his nipple. He screams and shakes, bucking in the hold of the chains, and I laugh out.
“You having fun yet, baby?” I snark at him. “Doesn’t it feel so fucking good?”
“Please, Arianna, I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry. I’m fucking sorry. Please?”
“If I’d have begged you to stop fucking me, if I’d have been able to say those words, if I could have said stop, would you, would you have stopped?”
“Yes, yes, of course I would. I would have stopped.”
“But you made sure I couldn’t say stop, didn’t you?
Maybe that’s where I’m going wrong. Maybe I should make it so you can’t say stop.
So the word ‘no’ can’t exit your poisonous lips.
” I place the lighter and screwdriver down against the table and pick up the knife.
I stab the tip into the flesh of his stomach.
His abs tighten as I twist the knife just into the surface. He hisses out.
“Say it, tell me to stop, tell me no.” I smile at him. “Fucking beg.”
“Stop, please stop. No, Arianna. No, please.”
I cackle out a noise, twisted and dark as it echoes around the room. The door clicks open, and Vittorio walks in. He strolls over to me and places a kiss on my cheek, stepping to the back wall, leaning against the workbench.
“Vittorio, please, she’s lost it. She’s having a breakdown. Please stop her.”
I turn to stare at Vittorio, but he winks at me. The small quirk of his lip lets me know I have his support. I move the chair. I step right up to Matteo, the knife in one hand, trailing at my side. I lean up on my tiptoes and start to kiss him.
He gasps, but his head naturally leans down to me, and I slide my tongue against his; he lets me in.
I roll my tongue over his, and as he relaxes, he loses himself in the kiss.
I bite hard and lean back. Gripping his tongue between my teeth, I pull it as far out of his mouth as I can before bringing the knife between us.
He grunts, squeals, and tries to pull back as I slice through his tongue.
His scream pierces the air as I take a step back.
Blood floods his mouth and pours down his face.
His mumbled screams billow out around me.