Insatiable Crimes: A Mafia Romance

• 14 •

In that moment, I disgusted myself.

The Vincenzo in my head laughed in cold delight. Weak, his voice was silk in my head. Deadly silk. And I agreed.

So, fucking pathetic.

The whip fell off my hand, as I carefully crouched down, breathing in through the anguish.

My tears— another fucking weakness— streamed down my face, their pace steady, leaving the coldness of regret behind. My throat felt heavy, but my jaw stayed clamped, refusing to let any other pathetic sound escape my mouth.

The tears were never ending, the pain was sheer agony.

But there was something different this time.

The need for revenge was still there, only this time it was raging, fucking consuming. I could feel the thirst of torrent in the next gulp of air I breathed. It was bitter on my tongue, burning in my mouth and threatened to claw off my throat.

I shrugged on my dress, not even wincing as it rubbed against my thawed off skin on my back. The coldness of my blood seeped into the fabric. I'd never been more thankful of my wardrobe choice being all black.

Moving carefully, I lightly flexed my shoulder, feeling the damage.

It was needed.

I left the instrument on the marble floor— now stained crimson, knowing it would be wiped once, nowhere near clean, and put back in my armoire.

It was a reminder of a sort. To keep my wits with me next time.

My father's words were clear. He expected me right at the basement. I could disinfect the lashes later on. I straightened my back, feeling the full burn of my wound.

It was nothing I couldn't take.

I walked.

V I N C E N Z O

"Why are you here?" The American don sat leisurely on the seat which was once occupied by his daughter.

Not for long.

I preferred the daughter's company better. At least her face didn't look like a shrivelled pickle, sucking on the insides of a lemon, raw.

"We both know Mr. Romano that you cannot fool me as easily as you fooled my naive daughter." He grimaced.

My mask of cold indifference felt tighter. He was good. I couldn't underestimate him.

But this time, the reins were in my hands. Not his.

Yet the familiar feeling of helplessness seeped in. I pushed it back before it could gain control over me. I wouldn't allow it.

I smiled. "So you're telling me that Mercedes isn't after you?"

I had upper hand on both, father and daughter.

My lower abdomen was still in shackles, but in that moment I had more power in contrast to them.

And was I going to enjoy toying with the information.