14. Massimo
Chapter 14
Massimo
W ith every step I take along the dingy corridor of Ethan’s apartment building, the messages he exchanged with my wife flash through my mind, taunting me and fueling my wrath. The overhead lights in the hallway flicker, like they know what’s coming and are trying to send a signal. But in truth, I can’t be stopped .
My fury has been simmering beneath the surface all night and now that I’m here, it’s ready to erupt. I use my thumb to twist my wedding band round on my finger. The metal feels foreign but is a heavy reminder of the commitment Margot has betrayed. I will ensure that Ethan has no doubts about who Margot belongs to before I leave.
The power of my anger surges through my fist as I pound on the wood of Ethan’s apartment door. It vibrates the walls, and on the other side, I hear his urgency as he rushes to see who it is.
Covering the peephole, I wait for him to answer, smirking when he inevitably opens the door a crack, leaving the chain connected to the frame.
Wide, dull brown eyes peer through the gap. Ethan Watkins . The fear branded into his expression is a sight I thrive on. It collides with the excitement thrumming through my veins.
He gasps before trying to shut me out, but he’s too slow. I wedge my foot in the gap, and when his lips part in surprise, I take his momentary distraction to slam my body against the door. The chain breaks, wood splintering and flying through the air. It follows Ethan as he stumbles backward, landing with a thump on the scuffed laminate flooring.
Crossing the threshold, I kick what’s left of the door closed behind me, pulling out a pair of black gloves from my pocket. As I slide them on, I look around his apartment, my lip curling, not bothering to hide my disgust. I can see everything, the half-wall separating the kitchen from the rest of the apartment essentially useless.
The fact that he thought a beauty as magnificent as Margot’s would belong in a shithole like this only infuriates me further. I growl, baring my teeth, unable to contain my emotions any longer. When I take a step toward him, he shuffles back, not having the wits about him to stand and face me like a man. I don’t know what Margot saw in him. He’s weak and pathetic .
“W-w-whatever you want, I’ll do it,” Ethan stutters, confirming my thoughts.
Each step I take is measured and exudes an air of calm. It’s in direct contrast to the disorder beneath the surface, but he’ll see that soon enough if he doesn’t tell me what I want to hear. Running my tongue over my teeth, I stare down at him, my arrogance stifling. “If that were the case, I wouldn’t be here.”
He comes to a stop against the half-wall and I crouch down so that we’re somewhat eye to eye. I let my expectation for an answer to my unvoiced question hang between us until he splutters, “I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m sorry. I won’t talk to her anymore, I promise.”
Standing, I shrug out of my jacket and throw it over the couch before removing my knife from the inside pocket. I stride toward the table and chairs neatly tucked away under the window. I lift one of them, setting it down in the middle of the cramped room.
“Sit,” I command, pointing to the couch with my knife, my tone brokering no argument.
The familiar scent of fear fills the air. Ethan scrambles from the floor, his eyes darting to the door for a moment before he reconsiders whatever foolish idea floated through his mind. He lowers himself onto the cushions, a slight tremor wracking his body.
Taking a seat in front of him, I roll up the sleeves of my black button-down shirt and force my body to relax. “What do you know about me?”
He swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing with the action as he works to hide the flare of surprise in his gaze. “Not much.”
I press my lips together, irritation adding an edge to my tone. “Humor me. What do you know?”
With his eyes on a point over my shoulder, he exhales and says, “I know you own a club and your family is… allegedly involved in the mafia.”
I lean forward, running the knife over his knee before pressing the point into the flesh of his thigh. With the barrier of his clothes and the light but firm pressure I’m applying, it won’t do much damage. Unless I want it to . His body goes rigid.
“So you know enough. What I don’t understand is why you’re still in contact with her. Knowing who I am—because, let’s be honest, there’s no ‘allegedly’ about it—why have you not left her alone?”
He lifts his chin, a determination shining in his gaze as if the idea of her gives him strength. “She?—”
I apply more pressure to the knife, his flesh giving way under the force. Blood seeps into the fabric of his jeans and his words turn into a hissed breath. He flinches from the pain and liquid pools in his eyes before he sniffs and sets his jaw.
“When you give me your answer, remember who I am, and who she is to me — my wife . Not who she was to you.” My voice is deceptively soft, but the threat is clear.
Ethan nods, a muscle in his jaw working. “I don’t know why,” he rasps.
Clicking my tongue, I lean back, removing the knife from his flesh. “That’s disappointing. I’m sure you do know why, but I guess when faced with the reality of your circumstances, you’re choosing to be a coward.” Standing, I stare down at him, tilting my head before I continue, “I thought my wife would have better taste than that.”
I see the fight return to him, but he bites his tongue, choosing to live over fighting me. Sliding the knife into my pants pocket, I demand, “Where’s your phone?”
Ethan drops his chin to his chest, mumbling, “On the nightstand.”
It takes me seconds to cross the space and grab it up. I return to him, grabbing a fistful of his hair and forcing his head back. I hold the phone up, waiting for the telltale click to confirm it’s unlocked using facial recognition before pushing his head back. Bringing up the text chain with Margot, I type out a message.
ETHAN
Don’t contact me again. You’re married and made a commitment to your husband. You should be honoring it, not messaging a man you can no longer have.
I press send, block Margot’s number, and delete her contact information. It does little to ease my frustration. Throwing his phone onto the couch beside him, I wait for Ethan to meet my gaze before delivering my final message. “You got lucky this time, but if you try to contact Margot again, I’ll be back and your family will be sent pieces of you in the mail. Got it?”
He swallows thickly, nodding. “Yes, sir.”
Without looking back, I march from his apartment, the energy I came with barely satiated. Ethan may have learned his lesson, at least for now, but there’s still Margot to deal with. She needs a reminder of the vows she swore to me, and tonight, I’ll remind her of the meaning of the word loyalty.