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“Tell me what you said to Banetti and the judge,” Amato demanded, switching subjects.
I shrugged. “The judge asked me to confirm I had been forced to marry him.”
“And when Banetti was called in?”
“The judge asked again if he’d forced me. He denied it and accused me of having a lover. Then Dario cursed me out and left the room. Judge Nolan said he would grant the divorce and it would be done by tomorrow morning.”
“And nothing else was said?”
I shook my head. “Where’s my brother?” Still keeping up with the pretense he would let me go.
“I have two problems,” Amato said, ignoring the question and returning to the desk to refill his glass. “Firstly, that DarioBanetti never gives up. He owns you. The whole scheme that Sofia and her mamma have concocted is laughable.”
I was glad he didn’t seem to need an answer.
“Secondly, neither Sofia nor Elisabetta are returning my calls. Why do you think that is?”
That was definitely a question, one I had absolutely no idea how to answer. “I haven’t seen Sofia since they told me I had to sign the papers or Tomasso would be hurt. I have no—”
The crystal glass shattering in the fireplace as Amato threw it effectively silenced me.
He turned and in two paces had me by the throat and shoved up against the door. “I don’t believe you.” His icy cool voice belied his furious expression. He let go and I sagged. “Take him downstairs. Prep him. I will be there momentarily.”
The guard dragged me out and I struggled, but he had twice the muscle mass I did so it was pathetic. We hurried down a corridor to an elevator. When I saw the button with the arrow pointing down, I had to struggle not to panic. Down. Down usually meant basements, cellars.
I didn’t want to be right. Not once. Not when my clothes were ripped away. Not when my hands were handcuffed to a hook that winched me higher until I was balancing on my tiptoes. And definitely not when the guard, satisfied I couldn’t move, stepped away to a table and unrolled a cloth revealing a knife, a pair of pliers, and a hammer. If I hadn’t been held up my knees would never have supported me.
Amato walked in and smiled when he saw me. As if it was a good day. I supposed for him it was. He glanced at the weapons and his grin widened. “I think I will give you a choice,il mio piccolo bastardo.” He held up the hammer. “Which do you prefer?”
I saw the guard’s fist a second before it connected with my stomach. My breath blew out of me as I swung, the pain in my shoulders warring with the pain in my gut.
Amato tutted. “I told you before, I expect an answer to my questions.”
He put down the hammer and picked up the pliers and examined them. Fear churned in my belly. He laughed, put them down, turned, and sauntered over to me, waving the guard away. “Fear looks so delicious on you.” His eyes darkened and sickeningly, I noticed the tent in his pants. I was going to vomit.
A cruel smile played on his lips, and I prayed that Dario had gotten Tomasso. His finger reached out and drew a line down from my throat, pausing when he got to my nipples, then pinching and twisting. I couldn’t stop the cry as white-hot pain seared through me, and I made no attempt to blink back the sudden tears.
He made a humming noise as if in approval and his finger dipped lower. I couldn’t move. The chains would swing but that would only hurt more as I couldn’t balance, just grit my teeth as his finger trailed lower. “All you have to do is tell me what Banetti said.”
I tried not to shake, but my body had other ideas. “I told—” But when he grabbed one of my balls and twisted, my words became a garbled scream. Black spots danced in my vision, and I desperately wished I could pass out, but he was talking again.
“It doesn’t really matter if you don’t tell me right away,” he mused. “I’m having too much fun." His arm came back up and he grabbed me by the back of the neck, then his disgusting mouth slammed into mine. I tried to yank my arms, lift my legs even, but he just laughed, increased the pressure on my neck, and bit my lip hard to open them. Then his tongue was inside my mouth. His nails dug into the back of my neck in warning. But then hejerked backwards, staring at me in shock, then pounced and it felt like he ripped a chunk of hair from my neck.
He opened his hand but my vision was too blurry with tears to see what he was looking at.
“Well, well, well.” And he laughed. He caught my neck in his large hand and squeezed. “I’m having so much fun though. I’d hate for someone else to enjoy your death. They simply wouldn’t appreciate it.
I tried to suck in air but then Amato let me go and I gasped in oxygen, until I saw him pick up a different knife. “Perhaps—"
Gunfire erupted from upstairs.
Amato seemed to explode into a flurry of activity just as three men burst through the door. I sucked in a breath along with a lungful of hope.
“Don Amato,” one beckoned. “We must leave through the passage.”
Amato nodded, turned to me, and tipped his head in consideration for a second. “Not yet.” He stepped back to me and gestured to the guard to pass him a plastic bottle. I didn’t have time to wonder what the fresh hell this was before he unscrewed the cap and threw it at me. I smelled the gasoline just as I closed my eyes to stop it going in them.
“I don’t get what I want, then Banetti doesn’t get what he wants,” Amato practically screamed at me. I couldn’t speak. I could barely think. I was going to die. And when he tipped the rest of the bottle on the floor and reached into his pocket, bringing out a lighter, I couldn’t breathe either.
