Page 97 of Bene

“Mario—”

“The truth.”

Jesus.

“What does it matter?” she asked.

That was the wrong thing to say, apparently, because the very second the words left her lips, Mario pushed away from the wall he was using as a leaning post, and came flying her way. She didn’t even have time to react before he was at the end of the hallway, and Vanna found herself shoved against the door with a bang.

Unlike earlier, with another man who shoved her against a door to kiss her like his life depended on his need to have his mouth on hers, she didn’t like this. At all. Mario’s hand found her throat, partially covering her jaw as he forced her head back, crowded his body along hers, and made her stare up at him.

That fire in his eyes …

The hate …

Sure, she saw it before.

Never toward her.

Not like this.

She didn’t give a single fuck that he was feeling some kind of way about the things he knew she had been doing. She felt zero shame about the fact she’d been fucking someone else while she was intended for him because she never wanted him in the first goddamn place, and told him exactly that more than once.

However, the sight did startle her.

It made her pause.

His grip on her face tightened to a painful point, surely leaving bruises behind while his fingers dug into her jaw, He shook her face, and tears sprung to her eyes. A reaction from the pain, but she refused to let him see the fear he caused.

She wasn’t that weak.

“See, I thought you were fucking someone else,” he said, leaning down close enough that his lips nearly brushed hers. If he kissed her, he better be ready for her to spit, or bite him because she would not be playing this game with him. “But I figured it was like the other times you acted like a whore for a man—some prick was pretty enough to make you spread your legs for him, and you were just smart enough to keep him out of my sight this time, huh?”

“I was never yours, Mario.”

She felt the ache spreading in her jaw when he grabbed even harder a second before he pulled her head away from the wall, and then slammed it back against it. God. Did that crack her skull? With the stars in her eyes now, it was very possible.

Vanna shut the fuck up.

Before he killed her.

“And look what I found,” he ground out through clenched teeth, the vein in his forehead starting to pop out from his rage, “you’re not fucking just anybody. No, you’re spreading your legs for a Guzzi. Jesus, you won’t even fuck me, but you’ll lay down with that piece of shit, Vanna? What kind of woman are you?”

“One you don’t deserve.”

For a second, his grip loosened.

Then, it came back harder than ever.

He kept their gazes locked on one another, not that she had any other choice given the way he was holding her head up. The silence stretched on between them, giving her ample time to watch the rage of violent emotions wash over his features, but unsurprisingly, he was the first to speak again. Not that she cared because she had nothing to say to him.

She never would.

“But who fucking has you, huh?”

Vanna swallowed hard. “Fuck you.”

“Yeah,” he added, chuckling sardonically, “because that’s the truth, isn’t it? Doesn’t matter what you do now, girl, you’re still going to end up with me for the rest of your life whether you like it or not. And I have waited far too long to give up now.”