She Devil | ✔︎

Thirty-seven.

We haven't talked in a week.

The next morning, I woke up regretful of my actions. It took me an hour to gather myself enough to leave my room.

He brushed past me as if I didn't exist. And he continued to ignore me, telling Massimo that I should perform the task in another office.

We just had sex, it's not a huge deal, and it means nothing to him, so why is he being such a jerk about it?

I gave him a week to get his act together, and I'm done today. I'm going to confront him about it and tell him we can put that night behind us and be civil.

I'm alone with Isabella's kids right now, and I'm meant to be watching them while they eat their snacks. I didn't come here to babysit children.

I don't even like kids.

Someone brushes up against the hem of my shirt. Looking down at Matteo, I raised my brow, getting down on one knee at his level. "Can I have a biscuit?" He says this while giving me puppy eyes.

"No." I shoo him away, concentrating on the papers in front of me when I hear someone sniffling, and turn around to see him crying on the ground.

I roll my eyes as I hand him a banana biscuit from the top of the shelf. He gives me a toothy grin and begins to eat.

So much for being mafia kids.

Since last month, no one has mentioned Vladimir. They also didn't reveal Evelyn's relationship with them. Every time I ask her a question, she responds with the phrase "when the moment is right." I despise being so clueless.

They're withholding something from me, I'm sure. I'll work things out, as I usually do. But it would have been so much easier if I had been in my New York lair.

Matteo begins to cough incessantly, and his face begins to turn purple. I rush at him, slamming into his back so he doesn't choke.

However, this makes the situation worse. As I think of something, my hands begin to shake. "Luca, get help!" I yell, and he bolts out of the room to get help, as I struggle to get Matteo to breathe.

He's having an allergic reaction.

As I move away, Isabelle and the twins, as well as Eloise and Kenji, rush into the kitchen to help Matteo. "Did he eat anything?" Isabella asks, "Banana biscuits and apples" I tell her while I struggle to keep my hands from shaking.

They take him out of the kitchen and to the doctor, I assume. leaving only me and an enraged Kenji.

"You were the one who did it," he says with clenched teeth. "Are you trying to kill my nephew?" He makes an accusation.

"What? No!" I exclaim, and in the flash of an eye, he has me against the wall, causing me to bang my head.

"But you did. I've seen what people like you can do." He spits As his grip on my neck tightens, it's as if he isn't himself.

"You know nothing about me." I retort, attempting to hide the fact that I'm seeing black dots.

"I'm well aware of who you are. You're a killer. A homicide. You slaughtered tens of thousands of people. You also murdered a newborn child. You're a monster who is selfish. You believe you are acting ethically, but you are not. You are nothing." He snarls furiously.

Ouch.

"You look exactly like your father," he says emphatically. It's as though he's disgusted every time he looks at me.

I would be too.

It's true. He is correct in all he has said. I'm a killer. However, he is no better than I am.

"I'm sorry."I try to whisper, but that only makes his hold tighten, even more, cutting off all of my oxygen.

"Kenji!" Massimo yells at Kenji, pleading with him to stop. "You're going to kill her," As I sense the world shifting and their words sounding underwater, he finally drops me on the floor.

"I'd keep an eye open if I were you," Kenji says. Before storming out, Massimo helps me up while sympathetically looking at me.

"What's that look?" I cringe "What look?" He responds with a puzzled expression. "You have that look on your face that makes me want to punch you," I respond.

He mumbles something about "us being a perfect match."

Whatever.

I stayed in my room for the rest of the day, avoiding any contact with other people. I couldn't take my mind off of what Kenji had said earlier. Was he serious? Is that how he sees me?

Flashback.

He gently cleans the blood from my palm before taking the rubbing alcohol, saying, "This could sting a little." Before putting it on my knuckles, he says something, but I don't respond. The burning sensation is one of my favorites.

"Not all monsters do monstrous things," he says as he starts wrapping my hands while maintaining eye contact with me.

When he's finished, he puts the first aid kit away and stands between my knees, bringing me closer by my ass, our chests touching.

End of flashback.

Liar.

He's the one who told me that all monsters do monstrous things, but he's also the one who treats me like I kill people who defy me.

People who deserve to die are the ones I kill. someone has to do it since the fucking cops are incapable of doing so.

Every day, people get hurt. Racism, rape, violence, and abuse are all causes. And the authorities are powerless to intervene! It's not our duty, they say because he's colored. Oh, she's probably lying if she was probably asking for it.

I despise people like that.

And I'll be damned if I ever let another soul suffer in this earth.

To pass the time, I shove my thoughts aside and turn on Netflix. I begin watching Divergent because it is one of my favorite films.

By this time, I'd fallen asleep.

Dreaming about him.