Page 8 of Humility

I marched for the two of them and kept my eyes firmly on his face. This was so gross. He was worse than I thought he was.

“I said let her go. She doesn’t want your….” I waved my hand at his crotch. “Worm down her throat.”

He laughed and waved his penis at me, and I turned my head away so I didn’t have to look at it. “Does that look like the size of a worm to you?” Lucas laughed. “Why don’t you get over here and on your knees with your friend, and you can see for yourself.”

“No, I said let her go.” Stomping forward, I grabbed Gemma’s arm. “Let’s go, Gemma.”

Lucas shoved me hard in the chest, and I slammed back into the bookshelf. “Either get on your knees or get out, but Gemma isn’t going anywhere. She wants this, don’t you, Gemma?”

I looked down at Gemma’s large eyes and the tears staining her cheeks. She was obviously upset, and yet she nodded yes.

“Gemma, you don’t have to do this. I’ll go get my papa,” I threatened, and her face went as white as a ghost.

“No,” she yelled.

Lucas grabbed for me, but I was faster and ducked under his reach.

“Come on, Jasmine, don’t be a loser. Your friend is having fun. This is what fun looks like. Don’t you want to be popular with the boys? I’ll teach you all you need to know. I might even pick you instead.”

“Go away, Jasmine. No one wants you here, and I don’t want your help.” Gemma glared at me like she wanted to kill me and wrapped her hand around Lucas’s worm again.

“Oh, fuck yeah. Eager thing you are now,” he said, and I backed up until I was at the door.

“Gemma, please come with me,” I said.

“Last offer, Jasmine. You could be the wife of the next Don of Dons. Don’t you want that?”

“Not even a little. I’d rather suck on my shoe and die alone with a house full of cats.”

Opening the door, I jumped out and slammed it behind me. My heart was pounding hard in my ears, and my stomach was in knots. What he was doing was wrong. I could feel it, and yet Gemma ordered me to go. What the hell would Lucas say to his father about any of this? About me? About Gemma? Was I going to get my papa in trouble?

Shit. You didn’t insult—and flat-out refuse—Lucas without upsetting his father, and I’d heard many scary stories about how ruthless Don Giovanni could be.

I squealed as a hand slapped over my mouth and an arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me backward. I struggled in the person’s hold as I was dragged into another room. I managed to get my teeth on one of the fingers and bit down hard.

“Ow,” Angelo’s voice growled in my ear.

He shoved me away, and I stumbled before turning around to see him close the door. Shit. Shit. Shit.

“You bit me,” he complained and shook his hand.

“Serves you right for grabbing me like that.” I crossed my arms over my pajama top, and as his eyes traveled up and down my body, I realized that I was wearing the one with small tigers all over.

“So you like the nickname?”

“No, it’s just a coincidence,” I said. I wasn’t going to admit he was right. He’d called me tiger so much that was how I’d started to see myself. Fierce and agile. At least that was what I chose to take from it, rather than whatever reason he had.

Angelo smirked. “Sure it is.”

“What do you want? Anything else you’d like to try and break my nose with? There is a vase over there. I’m sure it would do some damage.”

“About that…I didn’t mean to get you in the face.” I cocked my hip and raised a brow. “Okay, maybe I did a little, but I wasn’t trying to break your nose.” He stuffed his hands into his black and silver plaid sleep pants, and it was the first time I’d seen him look anything but an arrogant asshole. He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry,” he finished, and my mouth fell open.

“What did you just say?”

“Shut up, you heard me.” Angelo rubbed the back of his neck.

“Is that why you dragged me in here?”