15) Knock Off

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                        The weight of Ferro's gaze, and his words, pulled me in, and then pushed me back, with an equal amount of influence. I thought for a second, for a fraction of a second, that he knew who I was. “You’ve insulted me in front of the Family,” he growled out, and I could imagine his next words would explain all of the horrible things he was going to do to me because of this. "Do you understand the meaning of that, puttana?"

                        When I continued to challenge the gorgeous criminal with my silence, he pushed up from the pillows and stood up to his towering height. Startled, everyone in the room seemed to lean back a little, as if royalty had stood up, when they were not supposed to.

                        Up close, Ferro’s pupils were dilated, from who knows what drug, and his mouthwatering cologne invaded my nostrils.

                        “I said,” the mobster began, his chest rising and falling quicker with irritation. “Turn around, and bend over. Puttana.”

                       

                        But, I would never let this man get the last word. Never. Not until my heart stopped beating, my lungs collapsed, and my mind rested six feet under the ground.

                        “You insulted me with that shitty country song you blast over and over again, at four o’ clock in the morning, two weeks ago, when I had work in the morning at six, so I think we can call it about fucking even.”

                        There was a collection of loud gasps around us.

                        Ferro’s eyelids expanded so wide that I thought his eyes would pop out of his skull. And he stared at me, just like that, for a painful amount of time.

                        “And, if the score isn’t even yet, you still haven’t given me my blouse back,” I continued, stepping so close to Mighty Ferro, that I could have counted the individual hairs on his chinny-chin-chin. “It appears I lost it that time you came all over me, in your own shower, after I helped your shit faced, drunk, high, stupid ass not die, thus ruining a huge chunk of my night. So I’d appreciate you returning my blouse back when you are done jacking off to it—“

                        He attacked me.

                       

                        Ferro twisted my arm behind my back and threw me roughly into the pile of pillows he had been sitting before, straddling my waist, slanting over me with his heavy, muscular frame. He pinned my hands painfully over my head, satisfaction filling his cruel features as I struggled to move.

                       

                        “Tigrotto,” he hissed at a volume that only I could hear, those black eyes still astonished that I was beneath him. He shook his head back and forth, scolding me. He ripped my veil off, leaving just a mask. “You fucking woman!”

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