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I hold out my tongue, and he groans.
“Now, swallow it little by little.”
I gag a few times while obeying.
Antonio isn’t gentle with me.
He treats me like a rag doll in bed rather than a princess.
It finally makes sense why princesses in the stories run away for normal lives.
Okay, not to be face-fucked, but for the freedom to choose their husbands.
To have a lover who isn’t afraid to break them or taint them.
But unlike the fairy tales, my story with Antonio won’t end happily ever after.
He’ll never love me.
He damn sure will never be my husband.
His world is filled with pure chaos, where evil produces evil, and love is a term they merely mock.
Love doesn’t exist for a mobster.
All that exists for him is tragedy.
11
“How was Italy with Gigi Marchetti?” Vinny asks me.
I glance around and clench my fist, contemplating smashing it through his ugly-ass face. We just ended a family meeting at the casino. Men with listening ears are everywhere.
I don’t bother looking back as I turn and speed-walk down the hall with Vinny trailing me. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Oh, come on.” He laughs. “Natalia said Gigi was in Italy. You randomly went there, your first vacation ever. It was easy to put two and two together.”
I ignore the rain while leaving the building. “Did Gigi tell Natalia something?”
“Hell no.” Vinny brushes away the raindrops pelting him in the face. “When I asked, she claimed she had no idea. Gigi usually keeps her in the dark.” He ups his pace to slap me on the back. “Don’t worry. I’m the only one who knows, and I’d never throw you under the bus.”
I huff and slip into my car.
Vinny jumps into the passenger seat.
I start the engine and turn on the windshield wipers. “Speaking of Natalia, you need to end shit with her before Father finds out. It’s a bad idea.”
“You’re the last person to decide what’s a bad idea.” He coughs into his bruised hand. “Marchetti.” He coughs again, more dramatically this time, like the little bitch he is.
I ignore him and slam my foot on the gas.
“Hey, man, I get it.” He leans back and buckles his seat belt before lowering his voice, as if someone were hiding in the car. “On a serious note, we need to do something about Sonny.”
“Please clarify what you mean by do something.”
“I was made aware that he’s talking to men privately, doubting my ability to lead the family once Father dies.”
“No one should have one conversation about Father dying. He’s perfectly healthy.” I tighten my grip on the steering wheel.
