Rosa batted her lashes at him, feigning innocence, though her taunting tone betrayed her amusement.
His jaw clenched, and his eyes narrowed at her before a muscle flexed in his cheek.
His large hand gripped her throat, pinning her jaw hard between his thumb and finger as he stared down at her.
“Don’t be so fucking happy about it,” he snarled, his grip tightening.
“I only like to fucking own things, and right now?
I want to own your slutty cunt for the fucking next two weeks,” he spat the filth in his deadly cold voice, and Rosa almost laughed at his intentions.
He seemed obsessed with her now, even though he refused to admit it.
Five years ago, he hadn’t cared enough to keep her, and now he couldn’t stand the thought of another man getting anywhere near her.
It was almost as if he wanted to possess her in every way, determined to claim her heart and soul—as though he hadn’t been the one to ruin her life in the first place.
Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.
Luciano clicked a button on the adjacent wall, and the door opened.
Rosa realized the room was specially designed with security for Luciano.
Then she realized the hotel must also be owned by him.
Oh God—where could she possibly go, since more than half the city was owned by Luciano Mancini himself?
But her nervous thoughts were shattered when the door opened, and two dangerous-looking men entered, dragging a bloodied man with them.
They threw him onto the floor before Luciano mercilessly.
Feeling embarrassed, Rosa tried to pull away from Luciano, but he didn’t let her.
Instead, he dragged her with him as he dropped back onto the sofa, landing in a lazy sprawl and pulling her straight onto his lap.
She stared at him with wide, shocked eyes, but he didn’t seem to care at all.
“Boss, we found him,” one of the dangerous-looking men said.
Luciano’s eyes darkened with rage, and he looked at the man on the floor through the slit of his narrowed eyes. The source of this chapter is g.com.
“Boss… boss…” the man begged in a weak, shaking voice.
“I am sorry.
I was wrong.
I did it for money, but I won’t do it again and will be loyal to you forever,” he cried.
The Italian don picked up a knife from the table and drove it into the man’s thigh.
“You should have thought of that before betraying me,” Luciano said coldly, his voice laced with lethal fury.
“I hate liars.”
He yanked the blade out and plunged it into the man’s flesh again.
And again.
The man’s screams tore through the room, raw and desperate.
He writhed on the floor, choking on his own cries, blood pooling beneath him as if his life was already slipping away.
Rosa’s heart pounded violently against her ribs.
I hate liars.
The words rang in her head like a death sentence.
Fear wrapped around her throat.
What if he ever found out she had lied to him too?
The man’s screams felt like a glimpse of her own future—of what awaited her if Luciano ever discovered her secrets.
She didn’t know how long the torture went on.
Then suddenly—
Luciano pulled a gun from the holster at his waist.
Two shots cracked through the room.
The man collapsed, lifeless, blood splattering across the floor.
Rosa froze.
This was the most horrifying thing she had ever witnessed.
She turned her face away, burying it against Luciano’s shoulder and squeezing her eyes shut as her entire body trembled uncontrollably in his arms.
The two of Luciano’s men retreated toward the door and left.
When Rosa heard the sound of the door closing, she opened her eyes—but was once again terrified to see the dead body lying on the floor, blood still pooling around it.
A small squeal escaped her mouth.
Luciano’s arms tightened around her, and she finally came back to her senses, realizing she was in his embrace.
She looked up and found his cold, impassive eyes on her while his hand lifted the gun and pressed it against her cheek.
She closed her eyes in fear, trembling even harder.
She felt the cold metal drag across her flushed cheeks, softly tracing her jawline, then tenderly rub against her lips, making her part them before being slowly moved to her throat.
She swallowed hard, praying in her heart that the monster of a man her ex-husband had become wouldn’t kill her.
She had Renzo to look after—she couldn’t die just like that.
Then the gun was pressed to her chest, just above the swell of her breasts.
“Open your eyes, Rosie.” his deep, dangerous tone made her flinch, but she shook her head, too terrified to obey him.
He pressed the gun harder and said through gritted teeth, “Open your fucking eyes, Rosie, and I won’t repeat myself.”