His Little Slut

Chapter 16

Mr. Morelli POV***

"So.." she said, "What did you wanna show me?" Her big doe eyes looked at me with so much hope and love.

My smile widens, I'm actually giddy with happiness. I still gotta be a gangster though. Ahem!

"Come with me," I said a little too gruffly, "I need to show you something."

She says nothing but gently takes my outstretched hand. I closed my fingers around hers. I helped her down from the high stool she was seated on and we made our way to the lower basement. From the kitchen it was a few flights of stairs down. We were actually heading underground. The only sounds being heard were of Keisha's shallow breaths and our fast paced steps. We finally reached the metallic door. I opened it with one hand and stepped inside, that's when she gasped. Seven of my men were already there waiting. I didn't tell them I was bringing Keisha. I tried to keep her away from this ugliness. One of my men was sharpening his knife, another was cleaning his gun. The next one beside him was smoking. The room smells like guns, smoke and death. We stepped into the room and the door clicked shut behind us.

"Morelli, What's going on?" She asked behind me, as he clutched my hand tightly. I looked into her eyes but instead addressed my right hand man.

"Carlos, bring the platter." I said, I know the look on my face must be demonic, because of the fear in her eyes. The way her lips trembled. The way her eyes widened.

As Carlos approached her with the platter, the overpowering stench assaulted her senses. Her eyes widened in disbelief as she spotted Michael's head on the platter. "For you my love," I said, causing her to recoil in horror. With a wrinkled nose and a hand clamped firmly over her mouth, she peered into the depths of Michael's lifeless eyes, she gagged at the sight, the taste of bile rising in the back of her throat.

"Oh, gross!" she exclaimed, quickly slamming hand over her nose in an attempt to block out the offensive smell. She took a step back, trying to put as much distance between herself and the offending sight as possible.

She grimaced, with a sudden lurch, her body rebelled, sending a wave of nausea coursing through her veins. She doubled over, her face contorting in pain as their stomach heaved violently. And then, with a gut-wrenching retch, the vomit erupted from her mouth, hot and sour, spilling onto the floor in a messy puddle.

She had been retching for a while and Carlos began shuffling his feet. I know he was feeling uncomfortable silently begging me to take her away from this.

Fuck no, I will not take her away from this. She needs to face this sick spineless fucker.

After another moment she stopped retching and took a few deep breaths of the stale air. She stood up and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Morelli," She began, "Thank you."

My smile broadens, she's thanking me?

She walked over to the platter and spat on the head of her enemy.

"Fuck you, and rot in hell." She said with renewed calmness. I felt really proud of her. She didn't cry, she didn't back away, she didn't cower. I was so proud of her determination and confidence as we both walked the fuck out of that room.

In the dimly lit room. We stood facing each other, our eyes locked in a gaze filled with longing and desire.

Without a word, I stepped closer to her, my hand reaching out to gently cup her cheek. She closed her eyes, surrendering to the moment as she felt my touch against her skin. The tension between us was palpable, the air thick with anticipation.