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“Stop laughing at me. You did that on purpose.”
He quieted as he pulled into my driveway. Rusty was already here, but Justin was nowhere in sight.
He must’ve walked across the street already. I unbuckled my seatbelt in preparation to get out, but then he shifted into park and sat back in his seat. He cracked his neck and took off his seatbelt too.
I turned so that I was angled toward him. “What’s wrong with you?”
“There’s not enough hours in a day for me to tell you that.”
It took a concentrated effort not to look in the backseat. My brain was never going to let that fantasy go.
“I don’t have a girlfriend, Rose.”
“Oh,” was all I could think to say.
“I don’t date,” he continued.
I suddenly didn’t want to finish this conversation. “There’s really no need to explain this. I’m not judging.”
Slowly, he turned his head and looked right at me. “Don’t you want to know about the bag?”
Thrown by the abrupt subject change, I couldn’t answer right away. “Say no,” the voice of reason whispered in my head. I did want to know about his bag, but not while he was looking at me like if I made one wrong move, I’d find out exactly why he had it.
“Why are all those things inside?” I asked tentatively.
“We have a place no one knows about, tucked away in the woods. It’s been in the family for well over a decade. Most of the Moretto brides spend their first year there.”
“An entire year?” I interrupted.
“Comes with marrying into the family.”
“Sounds rather archaic but go on.”
“It’s tradition,” he explained with a slight smile.
I nodded so he knew I was following along, wondering where this was going and what it had to do with the bag.
“The girls you saw tonight, they’re driving there now.”
I glanced at the dashboard and saw it was almost ten-thirty. “Shouldn’t you be going to meet them then instead of sitting here?”
“Later,” he replied dismissively. “You don’t seem bothered by the idea of me going to join them.”
Slightly annoyed, I turned the question back on him. “Would you be? If it were me, I mean.”
He laughed darkly, resurrecting the suicidal butterflies in my stomach. “I can’t stand the thought of it, you with someone else. Man or woman.”
“That’s unfortunate,” I deadpanned.
“For them, it will be,” he retorted with a wicked grin. “I can get creative. I’d make them suffer in ways you can’t even begin to fathom. And you’d have to watch so you knew to never call my bluffs.”
“Hypothetically or like…” I trailed off and pointed a finger at his bag. “That?”
“What do you think?”
“Humph.” I settled back in the seat. “I think this conversation is bizarre. I did not see my night taking such a random turn.”
“You didn’t answer the question.”
“I literally just did.”
“Rose,” he practically purred. “I want you to tell me.”
I looked at the bag in question, seeing things I hadn’t the first two times I stared at it. Then I thought of the girls. Everything pointed to one obvious scenario playing out. The flutters died in a vat of acid. I kept my face impassive and took a quiet breath.
“You’re going to fuck her tonight?”
I could tell that wasn’t what he expected me to say, and for some reason that only pissed me off more. I knew my jealousy was irrational. How was he supposed to know I harbored such a twisted infatuation?
It was a secret meant only for me; he should understand that much at least since he clearly had some of his own.
“I thought me fucking her didn’t bother you?”
“Don’t twist my words. I never said that.” Now was when I should’ve gotten out of his car and not looked back, but I’d seen him and her together not even an hour ago. The vision of them fucking now played inside my head.
“So, what happens when you’re done?”
“Can you elaborate?”
“Sure. You come to grab this bag and chain her up somewhere. Or do you just leave her lying on the bed until you have the bag? How would you even make them disappear without being caught?”
The last part was more of a question for myself, but the answer was sitting right in front of me.
The Moretto family had tons of dark rumors attached to their name, as did many other families associated with them. They had shine too, which dulled said rumors. I knew for a fact some of the tales spun were just that. Even Grandpa had been likened to a few and he was the gentlest man I knew.
Constantine regarded me with slightly raised brows. I couldn’t tell if he was amused or surprised by my line of thinking. “Would you feel better if I didn’t fuck her and simply took her apart? I prefer it when they scream like that, anyways.”
“You’re a sick bastard,” I seethed, as if I wasn’t sicker.
