Chapter 10
I’d been alone all evening except for the guards who patrolled the area outside. I had no idea where Lorenzo and his men had gone, but to be honest, I didn’t really care.
I had just put a tray of muffins in the oven when I heard the front door open and close. His men entered the kitchen first, startled by me standing there. I didn’t bat an eyelid to them strolling in so late. I was used to it.
“Shit, sorry, Ana. We just needed a drink.” Red held up his bloody hand, but it wasn’t his own blood, that much was obvious.
“No worries.” I grabbed the whiskey from the cabinet and slid it across the counter followed by tumblers.
“Cheers, A.” Emmet tipped his head with thanks.
Another new nickname. Not that I minded when it came from any of these guys. They were pretty decent compared to some others I grew up around.
I glanced up as Lorenzo came into view. His clothes were drenched in blood, the dark crimson staining his shirt, pants, and even his face.
His left hand was sliced open as dried blood decorated his wedding band while fresh blood dripped down his fingers onto the marble floor.
The wound I inflicted on him last night was split open as blood continued to seep out.
He looked like a man who had just emerged from hell.
“What the hell happened to you?!” I asked, trying to not sound worried.
Lorenzo’s head snapped up, his gaze locking onto mine like a predator. His face relaxed for a split second, before his jaw tensed once more.
“You don’t need to worry, it’s nothing,” he growled, his voice rough and low.
He tried to step past me to grab a drink, but I stopped him.
“Get out of the way, Ana,” he sighed, and for a second it almost sounded like he was trying to be somewhat nice.
Who was I kidding, he wasn’t nice.
“No, let me see your wound first,” I prompted, crossing my arms over my chest as I continued to block his path.
He let out a bitter, hollow laugh, the sound grating against the silence.
“You mean, the one you inflicted on me yesterday?” He breathed.
“Save your compassion. I don’t need it.” His words were meant to hurt, but they didn’t even break the surface with me.
He tried to brush past me again, but I stood my ground, my gaze unwavering.
“It’s not compassion,” I muttered, reaching out to grab his arm before he had time to snatch it away. He flinched, his body tensing beneath my hold. “Sit your stubborn ass down,” I demanded, which was something he clearly wasn’t used to.
He ripped his arm away as his voice dropped into a dangerous whisper. “Don’t pretend you actually give a shit, Ana. We both know you would rather I bleed to death.” His words were as harsh as a slap, cold and cruel, but there was a flicker of truth in them that I couldn’t deny.
My jaw tightened, my lips pressing into a thin line, and for a moment, I wanted to walk away. Instead, I grabbed the first aid kit from the cupboard beside me. “It won’t take long and then we can carry on as we were.”
He reluctantly surrendered to the situation, peeling off his shirt with a resigned shrug, his eyes fixing on me with a complex blend of amusement and simmering resentment.
The atmosphere between us felt heavy and charged, a palpable tension that was unmistakable to anyone nearby, like an electrified wire humming with our shared animosity.
I set to work cleaning the wound with an antibacterial wipe, the sharp scent of antiseptic mingling with the air, while his expression remained impassive and indifferent, a mask of stoicism.
The silence was a welcome balm, a brief respite from our unspoken conflict, until he broke it, his voice cutting through the stillness.
“You think you’re so much better than me, don’t you?” he asked, downing the drink Red handed him. It was clear he already had a few wherever he’d been and didn’t need anymore.
“You prove just how much better I am than you with each passing day. I don’t need to think about it.” I scoffed, not giving him the satisfaction of arguing. He wasn’t worth it.
He let out a harsh, bitter laugh. “You’ll only ever be good enough to warm my bed for me.” He smirked. “Because remember, you’re mine.”
For a moment, I froze, but the anger quickly dominated my body as I slammed my fist into his face, the sound of the punch echoing the kitchen. “How about you fuck off, Lorenzo?” I shoved him off of me with such force even he was taken aback. “I hope you rot in hell.”
His hand flew to his mouth, fresh blood from his split lip smearing on his thumb. A twisted smirk played on his face as he wiped the blood away. “Fuck this. I’m going to bed.”
He stormed out of the kitchen and thudded up the stairs, blood still trailing behind him.
My hand was throbbing as I watched him go, but the pain was nothing compared to the rage that continued to course through my veins.
I hated everything about him. The way he spoke.
The way he made me feel and just him in general.
“Are you okay, Ana?” Red asked, retrieving ice from the freezer. “Give me your hand.” I did as he asked, letting him place the ice on my knuckles.
“Why is his face so fucking hard?” I laughed, trying to make light of the situation.
“He didn’t mean what he said. He had a shitty night, and he shouldn’t have taken it out on you.” Emmet softly smiled from the chair.
“Let me guess, it was a torture that ended in no answers?”
“How did you know that?” Red asked, genuine confusion written all over his face.
“When you’ve lived with a father like mine, it’s clear enough.” I took the ice from him. “Can you grab those muffins from the oven? They should be done in about ten minutes. I need to go to bed.”
“Only if we can have some?” Red asked with a beaming smile.
“Of course, just don’t give any to that bastard.”
I meant every word, he deserved nothing.
With the rest of the house asleep, I ended up in the gym close to Lorenzo’s home office. While growing up the gym had always been my sanctuary, it was a place I could let everything go, including this arranged marriage.
The far wall had many marks in it, from what looked to be from knife practice.
I pulled out my two favourite knives from my waistband and let out a steady breath before imagining Lorenzo’s face in the middle of the wall.
Letting the first one go, I felt more alive than I had the last couple of days.
It was how it used to be. How it always was. Just me, alone with my thoughts.
Or so I thought…
I didn’t need to see him to know he was hidden in the shadows, watching my every move.
I launched my second knife towards the wall, the blade swishing through the air beneath the dim lighting.
My grandfather taught me how to use a blade, and by the time he was finished, I could hit a bullseye with my eyes shut.
Tonight was originally about me, but now it was about giving a middle finger to the man who belittled me earlier.
I retrieved my knives from the wall, and as expected, they both hit the bullseye mark. There were many attempts on that wall that hadn’t.
“You can stop hiding.” Venom laced my voice as he suddenly came into view. “I don’t know how you have the balls to come in here after how you spoke to me in front of everyone.” I scowled. “You’re proving to be a shit husband, Lorenzo. An arranged mistake .”
Lorenzo’s smirk didn’t falter, but his eyes narrowed, a spark of something dangerous and alluring flickering in their depths. “Yet, here you are putting on a show for that same shit husband.” He whispered. “Tell me, wife, what else did your grandfather teach you? Are you all knives and no skill?”
His words struck a nerve. My grip tightened on the hilt on the knife until my knuckles turned white.
I felt the rage simmering beneath the surface, threatening to boil over.
I couldn’t hold it in any longer. With a quick motion, I threw the knife towards him, embedding it into the wooden beam above his head.
The sound of the blade sinking into the wood was sharp and music to my ears. I just wished I’d aimed lower.
His smirk faltered for a fraction of a second before he recovered, his expression smoothing into something cool and detached.
“Impressive.” He chuckled, stepping even closer.
“But a real fight isn’t about tricks, Ana.
It’s all about control, and if what happened in my office this morning is anything to go by, you have very little. ”
I took a second to study him. He wore sweats and a tank, showing off the tattoo that decorated his chest and both arms, something I hadn’t truly paid attention to before.
I wondered if there was a story behind them, but then had to give my head a mental shake because I didn’t actually care what story they held.
“Spar with me. Show me what you’ve got.”
“Why? What’s in it for you?” I questioned.
“I need to know my wife can protect herself if ever she needs to, so spar with me.” He closed the distance between us. “That wasn’t a request.” He grabbed my wrist, pulling my body flush to his. “It was an order.”
“It always is with you, isn’t it?” I asked rhetorically, already knowing his answer. “Are you sure you can handle it, Lorenzo?”
“Don’t worry about me. I can handle you just fine.” He chuckled as he leaned into me, the woodsy scent of his cologne invading my senses more than I would have liked. My eyes fell to the bandaged wound I caused, and I couldn’t hide the proud smile on my face.
The air crackled with tension, charged with unspoken hostility that had defined our marriage since the start—which was a mere few days ago. His gaze met mine as he challenged me.
“Alright, let’s spar, but don’t come crying to me when I put you on your ass.” I laughed, throwing my other knife to the floor.
“I’ll take that risk.” His smile faded, replaced with something darker and more primal.
He removed his tank, throwing it off to the side. My gaze dropped for a second, admiring his chiseled torso.