“Well, if it isn’t Sebastian Lombardi,” Oscar drawled in his posh British accent that was somehow grating where Adam’s was lyrical. “You’ve come a long way since being the lowly chauffeur. That’s what working on your back will get you, I guess.”
“I suppose you should know,” I retorted, crossing my arms over my chest as anger sank sharp teeth into my spine. “I do not think you want to be caught alone with me, Oscar. I have never thought of myself as a violent man, but that was before I knew that you were holding Adam over a barrel.”
“I wondered if you were sleeping with him again,” Oscar continued as if I hadn’t spoken, a smug aura about him as if he knew something I didn’t. Foreboding tasted metallic on the back of my tongue. “Tell me, does he still fuck like a dream?”
“Vaffanculo,” I cursed him in Italian. “Watch your fucking mouth before I break it.”
“Oh, Mr. Tough Italian Guy,” Oscar mock shivered. “I shouldn’t be surprised. I’ve heard the rumors about your sister, Elena’s husband, and his father, Amadeo Salvatore.”
“Be very careful when you speak about my family,” I warned him, eyeing the cameras in the corners of the room.
If I hit him first, he could press charges. I needed to keep my cool even though my Latin blood boiled me from the inside out.For the first time in my life, I thought I might have the capacity to kill a man.
“It isyouwho should be careful with me,” Oscar corrected, putting his hands in his pockets as he shoved off the wall and strolled toward me. “I am the one holding the stick of dynamite, after all.”
“You can speak to the press all you want about Adam’s sexuality, but it’s your word against his. You might make a few headlines, but now that his romance with Linnea is the talk of the town, I doubt any of your accusations will have a lasting impact.”
Bitter fury flashed across his face, and I wondered that anyone could ever find him good looking with such an ugly heart.
“If only it was conjecture,” Oscar sighed. “Alas, I have irrefutable proof.” He paused to let that sink in and then leaned closer with a wicked grin. “Would you like to see it?”
“A selfie in the back of the Rolls-Royce hardly counts as evidence,” I told him coldly.
“Too true,” he agreed easily, fishing his phone from his pocket and fiddling with it for a moment before he raised the screen to me. “But I think this does, don’t you?”
The video played without sound, but it didn’t need it to be utterly damning. Naked, Oscar sat on top of Adam who lay flat on his back in some generic hotel room with his eyes closed and his hands loosely clasped over Oscar's rolling hips.
They were fucking.
Jealousy and fury raged in my gut and for one horrifying moment, I thought I might throw up right there on the floor.
I had seen Adam in the throes of passion many times, but never like he was in the video, loose and almost sloppy in his movements, his eyes slumberous with something like sleep or drink and not bone-deep satisfaction.
“He did not consent to that,” I lashed out, grabbing the phone and throwing it to the floor where it cracked neatly in half.
Not nearly good enough, I stomped on the remaining pieces until the screen was in smithereens and the body was completely warped.
Oscar just watched me with his hands in his pockets again, head cocked. “You know, I have copies of that everywhere. You just ruined a perfectly good phone.”
“I will ruin yourcazzatelife,” I roared, reaching out to fist my hand in his shirt and lift him to his toes. “You will wish you had never been born, you pathetic excuse for a man. I will throw everything in my power at you, including Dante and Amadeo Salvatore if you think you can release this to the public.”
“I’m not afraid of you. You are not the only one with powerful friends,” Oscar said, meeting my eyes for a moment before darting away at the no doubt feral look in mine. “And you don’t have to be afraid of me releasing this film if you do exactly as I say.”
My fingers were numb with the strain of holding him aloft so I dropped him to his feet and snarled into his face, “I’m not doing a fucking thing for you.”
“Oh, I think you will,” he disagreed with a meek little shrug, opening his palms as if he couldn’t help but be aporca puttana. “If you don’t, I’ll send this little video teaser to all the major outlets and upload the full things to Porn Central. Hey, maybe having a sex tape will do his career good? It worked for Paris Hilton and Kim Kardashian.”
“Fuck you,” I said, spitting at his feet.
“Oh that’s right.” He snapped his fingers. “This proves Adam isgay, not a good look for Hollywood’s leading man and the next in line to play the famous womanizer Anton Daventry, is it? I remember Adam telling me all about his dreams of one day donning the famous tuxedo as Daventry.”
“Why are you doing this?” I had to ask. “Did he hurt you so badly?”
Oscar waved the words out of the air. “Yes and no. I thought I loved them both, but I realized they were just using me. Why shouldn’t I use them, too?”
“That’s psychopathic,” I accused, shocked that there were people like this in the world. “You would ruin his career for that?”
“I would do it for pleasure,” he said with bared teeth. “But money’s better.”
