11. Rork
11
RORK
I sit in my comfortable armchair, the crackling fire casting a warm glow over my office. The room is quiet, save for the occasional pop and hiss of the burning logs and the gentle clink of ice against glass as I raise my tumbler of whiskey to my lips.
As the smooth, smoky liquid slides down my throat, I can’t help but let my thoughts wander to Bianca. My new bride, the pawn in my game of revenge against her father.
I know I should be reveling in my victory, in the fact that I’ve finally managed to strike a blow against Nico Marino—that is why I poured myself this thimble of whiskey—but instead, I find myself thinking of Bianca’s youthful innocence, the way her wide, frightened eyes reminded me so much of Anna when we were younger.
I remember the way Anna used to look at me, her gaze full of trust and admiration. We were inseparable back then, two peas in a pod, always getting into mischief and dreaming up grand adventures.
I can still picture the way she’d throw her head back and laugh when I’d tell her a particularly funny joke, her long, dark hair cascading down her back like a waterfall. She had a way of making me feel like I was the most important person in the world, like I could do anything as long as she was by my side.
But then everything changed. She was betrothed to Nico Marino, and suddenly, Anna was drifting away from me. Nico didn’t like her socializing with any man other than himself, so he started molding her into the woman he wanted. Gone was the Anna I knew and loved. In her place was a complete stranger.
And then she didn’t stand up for me when I tried to save her, when Nico sliced my face and left me with this scar. She stood there like a mute and did nothing .
The sting of that betrayal has never left me. It’s shaped me, molded me into the man I am today. A man who will stop at nothing to get what he wants, who will use any means necessary to exact his revenge on those who have wronged him.
It’s how I’ve been able to fight my way to the top.
And yet, as I sit here in the quiet of my office, I can’t help but feel a twinge of something that might almost be regret. Because as much as I hate Nico Marino, as much as I want to make him suffer, I can’t shake the feeling that Bianca is innocent in all of this.
She didn’t ask to be born into the Marino family, didn’t choose to be a pawn in our game of power and control. And yet, here she is, trapped in a marriage she never wanted to a man she barely knows and who’s old enough to be her father.
I take another sip of my whiskey, savoring the burn as it slides down my throat. This whiskey was an excellent decision, a spur of the moment decision I made when I last went to Ireland.
I know that I should be plotting my next move, figuring out how to use Bianca to torture Nico, but for tonight, at least, I’ve decided to give her one more night of peace. One more night to dream of the life she might have had before I rip it all away from her.
Call it a wedding present, if you will.
Because as much as I want my revenge, as much as I need to see Nico Marino brought to his goddamn knees, I can’t quite shake the memory of Anna’s smile or the way Bianca’s eyes reminded me of the friend I once held so dear.
* * *
The next morning, I unlock the door to Bianca’s room, the heavy key turning smoothly in the lock. As I push the door open, I expect to see the tearful, timid girl of yesterday. Instead, I’m greeted by the sight of my new bride, standing in the middle of the room with her arms crossed and her eyes flashing with anger.
“Why the hell did you lock me in here?” she demands, her voice sharp and accusatory. “What kind of sick game are you playing?”
I can feel my temper rise, but I push it down and ignore her question. “Good morning, Bianca,” I say, my voice dripping with false pleasantry. “Did you sleep well?”
She scoffs, tossing her hair over her shoulder in a gesture of pure disdain. “Hardly. This room is a disgrace. It’s small, unpleasant, and the sheets are clearly not eight hundred count Egyptian cotton. I expected better from a man of your supposed wealth and taste. Although…” She sniffs and looks at me like I’m shit under her shoe. “What did I expect from a second-rate Mob Boss?”
I grit my teeth. What a fucking snob. It seems to come so naturally to her. A Nico trait.
“I apologize if the accommodations are not to your liking, Princess. But you’ll have to make do. This isn’t the Marino mansion, after all.”
Bianca’s eyes flash with anger, and she takes a step toward me. “Don’t call me princess, you arrogant bastard. And don’t think for a second that I’m going to just sit back and accept this little game you’re playing.”
I laugh, a harsh, bitter sound that echoes off the walls of the room. “Game? Oh, this is no game, Bianca. This is your life now. And the sooner you accept that, the easier it will be for everyone involved.”
She shakes her head, a mocking smile playing at the corners of her lips. “You really think you can break me, don’t you? That you can lock me away in this godforsaken mansion and I’ll just roll over and play the dutiful wife?”
I take a step toward her, my hands clenching into fists at my sides as her flowery perfume hits me. “I don’t think, Bianca. I know . And you’ll learn that soon enough.”
She laughs, a sound that’s so similar to her father’s that it makes my blood boil. “We’ll see about that, Rork. But let me make one thing clear. I’m not some meek little lamb for you to push around. I’m a Marino, and we don’t break easily. Especially not to a pathetic Irish Mob Boss who can’t even make it in the big leagues.”
The smile that spreads across her face is vicious, a perfect mirror of the one I’ve seen on Nico’s face a thousand times before. And in that moment, all I want to do is hit something, to lash out and wipe that smug look off her face once and for all.
“You didn’t answer my question, Rork ,” Bianca says nastily, her arms still crossed over her chest. “And I demand an answer. Why the fuck did you lock me in here?”
“You belong to me now,” I say, my voice low and dangerous. “I can do whatever I want with you.”
That statement alone should have scared her into submission, but instead, the bitch actually scoffs .
“I’m not your pet, Rork. You can’t just lock me in a cage and expect me to be grateful for the privilege.”
I take a step toward her, my hands clenching into fists at my sides. “Watch your mouth, little girl. You’re in my world now, and you’ll play by my rules.”
Bianca cocks her head to her side, her blue eyes glinting with malice. “Oh, now I’m a little girl? Funny, yesterday, I was woman enough for you to marry me. How pathetic—resorting to juvenile names to try and silence me. It won’t work, old man . You can’t tell me what to do.”
I can feel the rage building inside me, the urge to lash out and put her in her place. But I force myself to take a deep breath, to remember the long game I’m playing.
“We’ll see about that,” I say, my voice calm and controlled. “But for now, you’ll join me for breakfast. And you’ll behave like the perfect little wife you’re supposed to be. I imagine your mother taught you manners.”
But Bianca plants her feet on the ground, a defiant smirk playing at her lips. “I don’t think so, Rork. I’m not really in the mood for a cozy breakfast with my captor—I mean, husband .”
My patience is wearing thin, my temper barely being leashed. “I won’t ask again, Bianca. We're going downstairs for breakfast. Now.”
She tilts her head to the side, a mocking expression on her face. “I’m sorry, is your old age affecting your hearing? I said no. I’m not having breakfast with you. I imagine you’ve heard no before, right, Rork? It’s what all the women must say to you when you try to get in their pants.”
The leash breaks. That’s it. I’ve had enough of her insolence. She’s lucky I don’t fucking strangle her right here and now. With a growl of frustration, I grab her arm and start dragging her toward the door. She fights me every step of the way, scratching at my hand and kicking at my shins.
“Let go of me, you asshole!” she shouts, her voice echoing off the walls of the room. “I swear to God, I’ll make you pay for this!”
But I ignore her threats, my grip on her arm tightening as I pull her down the hallway and toward the stairs. She struggles and squirms, but I’m stronger than her, and I manage to get her down to the dining room without too much trouble.
I practically shove her into a chair, my chest heaving with exertion and anger. For such a slight thing, she fights hard.
“Sit. Eat,” I command, my voice a low growl.
Bianca glares at me, her eyes blazing with hatred. But she picks up her spoon and takes a single, tiny bite of the yogurt in front of her. Then, with a defiant flourish, she shoves the plate away and crosses her arms over her chest.
“There. I ate. Happy now?” she spits, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
My temper boils over, my hands clenching into fists at my sides. “You’ll eat everything on that plate, Bianca, or I’ll force it down your throat myself.”
She laughs, a harsh, bitter sound that grates on my nerves. “Go ahead and try, Rork. But I warn you, I’ll fight you every step of the way.” Her eyes glitter. “And if you manage to do so, I’ll just make myself throw up all over your pretty little shoes.”
I lean forward, my face just inches from hers. I’m so close I can see the light dusting of freckles on her nose, see the hints of yellow in her blue eyes. “You have no idea what I’m capable of, Bianca. And if you keep pushing me, you’ll find out the hard way.”
The bitch rolls her eyes—she actually rolls her eyes! “Oh, am I supposed to be scared by that? Please. I’ve seen worse. You’re like a puppy compared to the men my father dealt with. Do your worst, Rork. But I won't break. Not for you, not for anyone.”
I push myself back from the table, my heart pounding with rage and frustration. She’s testing me, pushing me to the brink of my control. And as much as I hate to admit it, a small part of me admires her spirit, her refusal to back down.
But I can’t let her win. Not now, not ever. Because if I do, it will only be a matter of time before she finds a way to use it against me.
So I force myself to take a deep breath, to calm the storm of emotions raging inside me. “Eat your breakfast, Bianca,” I say, my voice cold and controlled, “or I’ll make sure you regret it.”
She leans back in her chair, that stupid fucking mocking smile back on her lips. “No,” she says casually, inspecting her nails as if I’m nothing to her, like she’s bored of this conversation. “I don’t think I will eat my breakfast, Rork. But thanks for the suggestion. Run along now. Shoo.” She waves me away dismissively.
And that’s it. That’s the moment when my self-control finally snaps. I can feel the anger boiling up inside me, the frustration and rage that I’ve been trying so hard to keep in check. The fucking disrespect of this girl—this bitch.
Before I even realize what I’m doing, my hand wraps around Bianca’s upper arm in a grip tight enough to bruise. I drag her out of her chair and toward the door, ignoring her cries of protest and the way she struggles against me.
“Let go of me, you fucking psycho!” she shouts, her voice echoing off the walls of the dining room. “You’re hurting me!”
But I don’t listen. I can’t listen. All I can focus on is the need to put her in her place, to show her that I’m the one in control here.
I practically throw her into her room, my chest heaving. “You’ll stay in here until you learn some fucking respect,” I snarl, my voice low and dangerous.
Bianca picks herself up off the floor, her eyes blazing with hatred. “Go fuck yourself, Rork,” she spits, her words like venom. “I’ll never respect you. Not now, not ever.”
I slam the door and lock her in before I do something I’ll really regret.
For a moment, I just stand there. I can feel the anger coursing through my veins, the white-hot rage that threatens to consume me entirely. But beneath that anger, there’s something else, a sense of purpose, a cold, calculating determination that I’ve been nurturing for years.
Because this isn’t just about Bianca anymore. It’s about revenge, pure and simple. It’s about making Nico pay for everything he’s done.
Any sense of mercy or compassion I might have felt for her is gone now, burned away by the fire of my rage and her insubordination.
I turn and walk away from her door, my mind already racing with plans and plots and schemes. I’ll break her, one way or another. I’ll make her regret ever crossing me, ever daring to defy me.