Chapter 16 #2
He takes another drag before adding, “But you, princess, are different. You’re my whore outside this room too. I won’t deny you’re more special than the rest. Fucking you is the same as fucking your beloved husband.”
His words twist my heart into a painful knot, and as his lips curl into a sinister smile, my tears blur the sight of him. Without my permission, they stream down my cheeks, and my entire body burns with the fury coursing through my veins like molten fire.
I fist the sheets. “You don’t even have a heart in your chest.”
He stubs out his cigarette in the ashtray. I catch his profile. “Can’t argue with that.”
Then he turns completely to face me. “But since that baby inside you is my victory, and I don’t want it raised in stress, I’ll put your mind at ease.”
His breathing is heavy, a clear sign that he’s angry again. This time, he walks over to his minibar, pours himself a drink, and downs the whole glass in one gulp.
“Emily got beaten like a dog, but she’s still alive.
Carlo’s fine, physically. He’s doing so well, in fact, that he’s been waging a proxy war against me for two fucking weeks now.
He’s been sending men after me nonstop to mess with my business.
He’s stolen two of my shipments and killed three of my most loyal men.
He’s using every resource and connection he has to take me down. ”
It feels like someone’s hand is squeezing my throat. Carlo is the most dangerous enemy anyone could have.
As if reading my mind, Tony smirks. “Don’t worry. As long as my baby is inside you, nobody, not even the president, can touch you. But once I’ve taken my child from your body, I might let you go back to your husband. He seems to hold a pretty firm place in your heart.”
Bile rises in my throat. “So that’s all I am to you? Just a vessel for your child? A cheap whore?”
He laughs nervously. “Cheap? If it makes you feel any better, you’ve cost me more than all the whores working in America combined.”
That’s it, I’ve had enough. Climbing off the bed, I walk toward the door and let him have a piece of my mind. “Go to hell, Tony.”
I open the door, but his hand slams it shut from behind me. With a swift flick, he pushes me forward with his body, trapping me completely between him and the wooden door.
He lowers his head, his breath grazing my ear. “I’m not done with you yet.”
The smell of smoke and alcohol hits me, making me wince. I brace my hands against the door and push back against him with my hips. His arousal, still hard and prominent, presses against me.
The pressure I exert makes him ease up just enough to give me some space. I turn, tilting my head back to meet his gaze. “What do you want?”
He plants one hand against the door to steady himself and leans closer. His other hand rises, and with his index finger, he strokes my lips, not gently.
“I want to fuck this pretty mouth of yours. Tonight feels like the perfect time to take your lips’ virginity. Besides, you owe me an orgasm from that day in the library.”
I can’t catch a full breath. How can he be so audacious, so shameless, to demand I please him with my mouth after the way he’s spoken to me?
Both my hands press against his chest, shoving him back with all the force I can muster. But I can’t create much distance between us because he doesn’t let me.
“You owe me 26 orgasms,” I spit, my voice harsh and cutting, not really thinking about what that might cost me.
At first, he looks a little confused, but he’s too smart to need more than a moment to process what I’ve just said. I’d just counted the number of times we’ve had sex and claimed I never enjoyed any of them, a blatant lie.
The truth is, this man only needs to look at me with enough intensity to make me lose control. But after everything he’s said tonight, I think he deserves the blow to his pride.
When realization settles on his features, he falls silent, looming over me. Then he steps back, gently pushes me aside, and opens the door. With a polite gesture, he motions for me to leave.
I obey instantly, but as I walk past him, he suddenly grabs my arm and pulls me back toward him. His face is only an inch from mine.
“I don’t stay in anyone’s debt. So don’t worry, I’ll settle the score with you soon,” he murmurs, his voice calm on the surface but burning with fury underneath.
Then he releases me with controlled force, shoving me just enough to send me stumbling out of the room without losing my balance.
As the door slams shut behind me, I hurry to my room. I lean against the closed door, pressing a hand to my chest, where my heart feels like it’s trying to burst out. I can hear the countdown begin, the countdown to whatever Tony is planning to do to make me regret what I said.
I know I won’t escape what’s coming.
Tony Bruni never forgives. And he never forgets.
***
I climb out of the pool and pull on my robe. The only good thing about this enormous penthouse is the pool. I can float there for hours and forget everything.
I’m heading to my room when I run into Tony. He’s seated on the silver sofa, impeccably dressed and smelling dangerously good, his left ankle resting on his right knee as he scrolls through his phone. It’s been a week since that awful night, and this is the first time I’ve seen him.
As I walk in, he lifts his head briefly, his cold eyes locking with mine for a moment before dropping back to his phone screen.
Clutching the collar of my robe in my fist, I walk toward him and stop a few steps away. “Hi.”
Without looking up, he responds with a slight nod. He’s still in a hostile mood, but the fact that he hasn’t completely ignored me gives me courage to sit in a nearby armchair and try to start a conversation.
“Is everything okay?”
Without lifting his head, he glances at me.
I elaborate further. “I mean your work. A few nights ago, you mentioned two of your shipments were stolen.”
He plants both feet firmly on the floor, his gaze briefly scanning me. “Have you checked with the doctor if swimming is safe for the baby?”
His dismissal of my question stings, but I try not to show it. “It’s safe. The doctor said it’s even good for the pregnancy. I can’t leave the house, so it’s the only thing I have.”
He stays quiet. I want to fix things between us, even though I know I’m not entirely to blame for how things have turned out. “Tony…about the other night—”
“There’s a dress on the bed,” he cuts me off. “Take a shower and get ready. I want your makeup to be flawless. Be ready at exactly eight p.m.”
It was foolish of me to think I could have a normal conversation with him. If he’s so unwilling to even hear me out, I won’t waste my energy trying to break the ice between us.
I stand up. “If I ask, will you tell me where we’re going?”
“What do you think?”
I give him a look of quiet disappointment before heading upstairs.
The dress on the bed makes me flinch. It’s basically a black strapless bra connected by sheer fabric to a short, puffy skirt. Completely inappropriate for going anywhere.
The thought crosses my mind that maybe we’re not going out at all. Tony has done this before, left an outfit on the bed that was practically just a couple of strings attached to a skirt. That one was for his own enjoyment. This one probably is too.
Just as he instructed, I’m ready by 8 p.m.
My small bump is obvious in this dress. I feel even more exposed. I let my long hair fall over my shoulders, hoping it will cover some of the bareness of my upper body, though it doesn’t do much.
Who am I kidding? I look like a whore.
The door opens abruptly, and Tony walks in. His cologne reaches me before he does, wafting through the room and teasing my senses. I see that he’s dressed in a pristine, tailored suit. He gives me a quick once-over, nodding his approval.
I take a step closer to him. “Tony, I’m really not comfortable in this outfit.”
He glances at my shoulders and ignores my comment. “Tie your hair back in a ponytail.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “Are you even listening to me?”
Ignoring me again, he walks to the wardrobe filled with brand-new clothes, with their tags still on, untouched since before I arrived.
As he rummages through the closet, his back to me, his voice carries a sharp edge as he warns, “Trust me, you don’t want me to do it for you.”
I exhale in frustration and walk to the vanity table. Picking up a hair tie, I do as I was instructed, pulling my hair into a ponytail. Just as I finish, I see him approaching with a long gray coat in his hands. He holds it out, waiting for me to slip it on.
Anxiety creeps over me. “Are we going out?” My voice is now far less confident.
“Put it on.”
I step back. “There’s no way I’m going out dressed like this.”
His eyes narrow and flash dangerously for a brief moment before he throws the coat onto the bed. Without warning, he grabs my wrist and pulls me toward the door.
I resist, planting my feet firmly, but he doesn’t exert more force. Instead, he steps closer, coils an arm around my waist, and forces me forward.
Like this, I have no choice—either I walk on my own, or he’ll carry me without risking me falling.
As we reach the doorway, I blurt out in defeat, “Fine, fine. Let me put it on. I’ll come with you.”
Without a word, he picks up the coat again and holds it out for me. I slip it on, tying the belt tightly around my waist. As we leave, his hand clamps around mine, gripping it firmly as if he’s afraid I might try to run.
When we sit side by side in the backseat of the car, I ignore the unpleasant presence of Rafael and the driver in the front. I reach for Tony’s hand. “Look, Tony, if this is about what I said the other night… I’m sorry, okay?”
He keeps his gaze fixed forward, but the corner of his mouth curls upward.
“But you have to admit, you said some pretty awful things to me too. Please, Tony,” I press on.
This time, I squeeze his hand tighter, and he finally turns his head toward me.