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I walk up to him, towering over him as I stare down into his confused, bewildered eyes. “I know what you’ve been doing here.”
I can see the moment that his blood runs cold.
He considers trying to lie, attempting to save himself from whatever fate I’ll choose for him as his master on this earth. He’s signed his soul over to me for money and nothing more.
“Don’t try to fight it Vitale, I just need to talk to you,” I say, my voice low and guttural.
“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” he sputters, losing control of his speech faculties as his horrified mind runs away from him.
He begins to back up, but I follow closely until I’ve backed him into a corner. “You didn’t? You mean this isn’t exactly what you wanted? Because I’ll fuck you up worse than anyone on the streets ever did.”
Seeing him cower in my shadow is much more satisfying than I thought it would be. In fact, it scares me how much I’m enjoying his fear. I feel like a shark, tasting his terror in the air right before I rip a hole in his aorta.
I slam my fists against the wall behind him, cracking a small hole in the drywall as he jumps.
“No, seriously, I’ll quit it,” he pleads, tears running down his face moments before he starts to piss himself.
My eyes are ablaze with rage, and I know he’s never seen this kind of blind fury in anyone before. Whatever he was running from in the streets was child’s play compared to me, and that’s why he thought I would be able to keep him safe from it.
But not anymore.
“Vitale, if I ever,eversee you here again, I’m going to do such horrific things to you that you’ll curse your mother for shitting you out onto this earth. Do you understand me? I will hang you from the ceiling by your cock, pumping your body full of amphetamines to keep you conscious. There will be no mercy whatsoever.”
He falls to his knees as his legs give out under him. By now, he’s a mess on the floor, his jeans picking up grime and dust from the machines of the past that used to occupy this space. It’s far too gratifying to see him so terrified, and I realize that I’ve learned to fully channel my anger in the right direction.
“Get the fuck up. I never want to see your fucking face again. Run far from here, I don’t care, but you will suffer horrendously if you continue,” I say.
Without another word, he staggers up from the floor, continuing to sob as he fails to carry himself.
For someone who commanded so much power over these women, he folded far too easily to me. It’s such a cliché these days – men act like they’re tough shit until they encounter someone who can beat the fuck out of them.
8
Matteo
The adrenaline from my encounter with Vitale is beginning to wear off, and I’ve become worn down and somewhat irritated by every inconvenience. Every stoplight felt like an eternity on my way home, and now I just want to eat something and go the fuck to sleep.
Vitale isn’t like Leonardo – he doesn’t have the same depth of trust that Leonardo has with me. At least, he didn’t. Now there’s no trust left whatsoever. The only thing I can do is watch out for him to make sure that he doesn’t try to cause issues again. It’s a disappointing way to view someone you once trusted with a large aspect of your business, and in a way, I viewed him as a little brother. Now, he’s nothing to me.
I can’t imagine what those women went through with Vitale, what kind of heinous shit he put them through all to line his pockets that grew ever deeper with time. I paid him well, but he chose to be a child about the way he handled his newfound financial freedom. I’d do anything to turn back time, to teach him better, but now it’s out of my hands.
Returning to my house when it’s this quiet at night always feels sort of uncanny, especially walking through the grandiose hallways with morbid artwork and architecture. It strikes me as the experience I would expect if I were locked inside of an art museum late at night. I’m not supposed to be here, but it’s my fucking house.
From time to time, I’ll think to myself about what’s driven the choices I’ve made with my life. Why did I choose this house? Do I need this much wasted space to feel like a real man? Do all of these assets really add anything to my value as a human? Sometimes, it weighs on me that I’ve placed so much emphasis on the importance ofthings.I’ve killed people for the luxury of havingthings.Am I really any better than my father?
It still feels weird being here in the dark, even when I’ve been living here for five years now. It’s unsettling sometimes, and it makes me feel like I’m walking through a mausoleum instead of a dwelling place.
Usually the feeling wears off when I turn on a few lights, but this time, I notice a noise coming from upstairs.
I have a very sophisticated security system in my house, so it’s doubtful that anyone broke in. I’ve never had a break-in before, and my house is kept behind a gate to begin with.
At first, I’m enraged that Iris could have possibly let someone in while I was gone. Did she think that it would feel more adventurous? Is she fucking someone in my bed?
I’m not holding her hostage by any means. She could leave and go fuck someone on her own time without bringing it into my house.
If I’m being honest with myself, the idea of Iris being naked in my bed for any reason is enough to arouse me. I’ve been watching the way she moves throughout the house, and the shape of her body has been driving me crazy. I’ve been supplying her with clothes to wear that match the specifications that I like on a woman, and she fits them perfectly.
Despite how I feel about her, I’ve still chosen to honor her wishes against pursuing a sexual relationship with me. It would be stupid of me to expect her to break that code, especially because she’s here on business to begin with.
