[CONTINUATION OF THE LAST CHAPTER]
Rita's pov
We entered the photo studio next to the hair salon. "Hello, how can I help you?" a man asked, approaching us.
"I need a passport photo," I said to the man. ""But first we want some cute pictures of my girlfriend printed out, right honey?" Roman pulled me closer by my waist and kissed my head, making me feel butterflies in my stomach every time he introduced me as his girlfriend.
Honestly, I didn't mind at all, liked him calling me his girlfriend and deep down I wished his lie would be true. But it was a lie. I wasn't his girlfriend, I was probably just a fling to him until he would get rid of me.
"Yeah sure, we can do that, what kind of pictures? Do you have them on an USB.stick or something?" the man asked, brining me back from my thoughts.
"Yeah, what kind of pictures, Roman?" I frowned at him confused. "Memories," he smirked at me, confusing me more.
"I will AirDrop them to you," he told the man, taking his phone out. "What shall the size be?" the studio man asked.
"The normal size is fine." He turned around as I wanted to look at his phone to see what pictures he was talking about.
When the pictures were printed out the man looked back and forth between the pictures in his hand and I, before asking me curiously, "Is that you?"
I gasped as he turned the pictures towards me and I finally saw the pictures he was talking about. It was the pictures of the day after my wedding night — where I was woken up while kissing his nasty toe.
"Why did you print them out?" I hissed at Roman humiliated. "Why not? You look great on them," the asshole mocked me.
"That's one of the weirdest pictures I'd the pleasure to print out," the studio man muttered.
"She has a special bond with my toe," Roman embarrassed me more, giving him the death glare, I elbowed him, before telling him to shut up.
"I've always been told that the quietest and prettiest chicks are the craziest." The man nodded his head. "Apart from your fetish— I mean foot love, you seem pretty roughen up on those pictures, did you have an accident?"
"No, it was just make-up for Halloween." Roman saved me with another of his great lies.
"Have to praise the make-up artist." He nodded his head. "It was my husband," I muttered in a daze.
"She means ex-husband, stealing her from him was a hard battle, but finally she's mine."
"I'd fight for such a pretty lady too," he complimented me. "You wouldn't like to fight me," Roman claimed, his voice low, holding a warning to him as if he felt threatened.
"Chill man, she's all yours!" The man chuckled, trying to sooth the atmosphere that was slowly tensing up between them.
"Can we just please take the passport photo now?" I was worried he'd kill him by the way he was looking at him now. I didn't why he seemed so bothered, the man was just complimenting me.
"Sure! Please take a seat, Miss," he asked me, pointing to a place near a white wall. I looked around before taking a seat. It was a really small studio but looked cute inside. Taking my coat off, I tossed it to Roman, before I sat down.
"Should I smile?" I asked with a smile, as Roman's eyes ran down my body and his jaw clenched. He didn't see how I looked in the clothes until I took my coat off.
"If it should be a passport photo, then no ..." the photographer said, coming towards me with the camera, his gaze was directed downwards as he was doing something with the camera in his hands.
Then, he looked at me before his gaze went from my face to my breasts. I shifted in my seat as I felt somehow uncomfortable now. I knew the top was cut low, but he hadn't have to stare at my breasts as if he was hypnotized by them.
Before I could tell him he was making me uncomfortable, Roman intervened and demanded, "Stop looking at her breasts and take a damn picture of her!"
His outburst not only made me jump in my seat but also made the photographer came out of his trance. My so-called boyfriend of the day tried to act calm, but I could see he was literally seething.
"Yes ... I was just ... sorry," he muttered before shaking his head and looking at me through the camera lens to finally take my picture.
I sat up straight and waited for him to take the picture so we could leave. I was afraid he'd kill the photographer, if we stayed longer.
"Questo è tutto! Sono alla fine della mia pazienza. Vieni qui, malato di merda!" he snapped at the man before grabbing the hem of his shirt and pulling him closer.
(That's it! I'm at the end of my patience. Come here, you sick fuck!)
"Roman!" I shrieked when he headbutted him. The man fell to the ground and groaned in pain. Before he could get up, he started kicking him.
When I overcame the shock that he'd hit a photographer in daylight in a studio in the mall where people could see him as they were passing by the shop, I got up and hurried to him to stop him before he would literally kill him.
"Stop! What are you doing? You're going to kill him!" I said, grabbing his arm to stop him. The moment I tried to pull him away from him, he turned to me.
His gaze was murderous and I literally took a step back in fear as I looked at him. I didn't know what was more intimidating, his murderous gaze or his height as he literally towered over me.
Taking a step towards me, he leaned closer, making me shrink back. "What am I doing? Well, I'm beating up the fucker who drooled over what's mine!"
"I am not yours Roman," I muttered, his possessiveness scaring me. He grabbed my face and pulled me closer to his.
"You agreed to be mine until I let you go, purtroppo, come vorrei stringerti per tutta la vita." I didn't understand the last part, making me frown as his thumb brushed over my lips.
"You are scaring me," I told him carefully. "And you are exaggerating, he was just a little flirty."
"You are not the one who should be scared of me," he chuckled darkly, "it's him who should be scared to death! And not only because he was a little flirt my."
Letting go of me, he turned to the man on the floor. "Because he took pictures of your breasts instead of your face for Lucifer's sake!"
"What?" I asked surprised. "No, I wasn't," he denied, groaning on the floor. "Shut up!" he hissed at him and kicked him again before letting out a humorless laughter, grabbing the hem of his shirt and pulling him halfway up. "What were you going to do with her pictures, huh? Jerking on them?"
"Roman," I said calmly, taking his face in my hands so that he would look at me. "It's all right, let's just delete these pictures and get out of here, okay?"
He shook his head. "No, I'm still not done with him," he gritted out, looking from me back to the man on the floor.
I gulped, what was he up to? Was he going to cut his dick and feed it to him? How he did it with Nicolai? Or take out his eyes?
The scenarios in my head scared me and before he could do anything I grabbed his face again and kissed him. I didn't know what else to do. He looked deranged and ready to murder, therefore I kissed him to distract him and hoped he would calm down.
And it worked. He let go of the man, before pulling me closer and deepening the kiss. That was so fucked up! We literally made out in the shop of the man he has beaten up.
When I felt like he had calmed down a little, I broke up the kiss and looked at him. "Let's get out of here, okay?" I asked, my chest moving up and down due to kiss we had shared seconds ago.
He had already made a scene and it wouldn't be long before someone walked in and saw that he had beaten the photographer to shit and call the police.
"Don't do anything else, you've already beaten him up," I pleaded with him as he looked at me blankly before shaking his head.
Then, he grabbed the hem of his shirt again and started to drag him into a room behind the counter.
"Why are you dragging him in there? Do you want ... Roman! No!" I tried to stop him by grabbing his arm.
"Relax, I will just have a friendly conversation with him why taking pictures of your boobs are wrong, then we can go, stay here, be good for me." A dark smile danced on his lips. Staying put, I hesitated to listen as I doubted that this conversation was going to be friendly.
"You promise? You will just talk to him?" I asked him sceptically. "I promise he will be alive," he claimed before grabbing this butt-plug thing from the bag, giving me the bag, dragging him into the room behind the counter and closing the door behind them before I could enter.
* Click * He locked the door. Before I could try to open the door, I heard loud noises from inside the room that made me wince.
"Roman! Don't put this thing in him!" I called after him and wiggled the doorknob to open it, but to no avail.
"Later ragazza! I'm busy! And why shouldn't I? You said you don't want to use it, and I don't want to use it either. So, I am making the best of it, after all, it would be a shame if I would waste my money for nothing! Go and turn the shield from open to closed," I heard him say before I heard another loud noise, followed by a groan.
"I can't believe I'm doing this." I walked with a sigh to the exit and turned the sign from open to closed. Then, I went back to the door behind the counter and hit the door a few times with my palm and told him to stop whatever he was doing to the man. But the only answer I got to my demands were the poor man's moaning.
After a while, I stopped asking him to open the door too. I just leaned my head against the door and listened to the noises from the other side of the door.
I stayed in this position until he was done and opened the door. I stumbled in — towards him — and before I could see what he had done to him, he grabbed my hip and pulled me out.
"Is he alive?" I asked, looking at him while he was still holding my waist. "You didn't kill him, did you?"
"Unfortunately, he's alive," he huffed, pulling me out of the room in a blink of an eye. "Roman ... you didn't put that thing in him, did you?" I asked hesitantly. "I
"Why do you care? He didn't care about your consent either when he aimed that lens on your boobs!" he gritted out, looking at me annoyed.
"Because you are better than him, what you'd do would be sexual assault ..." Like Nicolai had almost done to me.
"I didn't put it in him, at least not where you think," he muttered. "The only ass I am into is your currently."
"Then, what did you do?" I asked with a frown, ignoring his second comment about my ass. "You beat him up, didn't you? I know what he did was wrong and I'm not defending him at all, but he can report you to the police for beating him up, Roman."
"I had a friendly chit-chat with him, after making him my model and pose for the camera. Then, he agreed after our conversation to keep his mouth shut, don't worry," he said before pecking my lips and pulling away. "Let's take the picture and get out of here."
I looked at him confused. "You still think about the picture after everything that happened?" I asked confused as he dragged me to the seat before I sat down. "And what pictures did you take of him?"
"We came here to take a picture, so we won't go before taking one," he said with the camera in his hand. "And you can see the pictures of my ugly muse when I print yours out, along with his."
"Alright," I agreed with a sigh, taking a seat. Then, he looked through the camera lens and took my picture.
"Are you done?" I asked him and he nodded his head before looking at the pictures on the camera screen.
"You look beautiful," he muttered while looking at the pictures, making my insides melt. It was ridiculous that a simple compliment from him got me so excited and happy, but it did.
"Thanks," I stammered, feeling hot. I was glad his eyes were on the screen because I could feel the heat on my cheeks.
I tried not to be too affected by him and I didn't want to be too attached to him because I knew that I'd be hurt more in the end, than I already anticipated.
I looked at him as he went behind the counter, probably to print out the pictures for the ID. I followed him, admiring how focused he was while working.
Every time I looked at him, I felt like I didn't deserve him. He was a very gorgeous man, and he could have any woman he wanted by his looks. Someone who was more beautiful than me. Someone who wasn't a problem, like me. Someone who would make him happy.
And I hoped he'd find that woman who would make him feel loved. I knew it was just sex for him with me, I knew he felt nothing for me, but I hoped he'd find love one day. He might be a sex-crazed whore and a killer, but he deserved to be loved.
A lump formed in my throat at the thought of him with another woman. I tried to suppress the feelings that were rising up in me.. "You walk around like you own the place," I said as I stood next to the printer and him.
"I own every place I enter, ragazza," he said as he took the pictures from the printer and looked at them. "You look good."
I gasped as I saw the other pictures of the man. He made him suck on this butt-thing Accessoire like a binky. Then, he made him bite on this butt-thing Accessoire and wink at the camera. Then, he made him lick this butt-thing Accessoire on the ground with his tongue fully out.
"What are you going to do with those pictures?" I asked with a mutter. "Oh, I almost forgot about them." He took the pictures from my hands and walked to the store window.
"Why? I looked at him — lost for words — as he stated hanging them on the big windows of the shop.
"To see if he has any shame or not, if he does, he will close his shop, and fuck off the country, if not, he won't have any female clients — as no sane woman would like to get her pictures taken by a man who sucks on a butt plug and puts them on his store window."
He tossed me my leather coat that was lying on the counter. I caught it before wearing it. "What?" I asked as he frowned at me.
He grabbed the belt of the leather coat, tying it up at the front. "Much better, after all, your breasts don't have to say hello to the whole mall," he muttered and grabbed my hand, intertwining our fingers and heading for the exit.
"You gave me these clothes to wear, remember?" I asked him with a huff. It was ridiculous that he complained about the clothes I was wearing when he was the one who gave them to me to wear.
"Yes, and I will be the one who will get rid of them along with the rest of the her wardrobe when we get home," he said with his jaw clenched.
If I didn't get to know him a little in the past few weeks, I'd say he was jealous. The thought of him being jealous made me laugh. "What's so funny?" he asked me.
"Nothing," I sighed with a little smile, shaking my head, "but if you want to get rid of her clothes, I really need new clothes, unless you want me to go out naked as soon as you let go of me."
"L'unico momento in cui ti voglio nuda è nel mio letto," he said in Italian and kissed my hand.
"What?" I asked him with a frown. "Nothing. Let's buy you some decent clothes," he muttered as we left the photo studio.
(The only moment I want you naked is in my bed.)
"Wait ... shouldn't we turn the shield from closed to open again?" I asked him.
"Posing for the camera must be exhausted, and he wasn't really good at taking instructions, so I had to put him in position, and I wasn't really gentle while doing it, so he should rest a little before starting to work again," he grinned with a shrug.
His words were so twisted. His head was fucked up. I didn't even try to figure him out because I knew I couldn't. "You have are sick," I blurted out.
"I know you love my sick ways." He kissed my head as we walked through the mall. I bit my lip to keep myself from smiling and didn't respond because he was right.
I loved him for who he was. He made me fall for him in weeks. I loved him. And I wanted to enjoy my time with him and make as many beautiful memories with him as possible before our ways parted.
I wanted to have great memories of him, I wanted to remember him well.
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