“Well, well, well,” Romeo drawls while a smile grows on his face like he’s just caught the most delectable prize.
He puts the orange juice, which is in a glass container it doesn’t normally come in, to his mouth and drinks. The entire time he’s drinking straight from the container, he doesn’t take his eyes off me.
When he’s done, he lowers the bottle and lets out a sound of satisfaction like the juice really hit the spot. Keeping my face neutral when all I want to do is cringe is more difficult than it should be.
“What do we have here?”
I clear my throat and try to sound bored, like this is the last place I want to be, “Good morning, Mr. Amato.”
“Oh, so it’s Mr. Amato?” He tilts his head to the side as malice flashes in his eyes. “Now you want to show how good your manners are? Now and not last night when you could have had both the Amato men filling your holes?”
Unable to stop my reaction, I cringe and rear back from him and his words. The need to run bubbles up in my gut, not just from Romeo but from this place. Sure, Angelo told me he would never share me, but can I really trust him?
Romeo steps closer, his face a mask of victory. “You shouldn’t be here, Dove,” he taunts me. “You should be covered in jizz in one of the rooms at Second Circle.”
Bile fills my mouth, but I swallow it down. I know what he’s doing. As much as I would like to ignore his verbal jab, he’s not fucking wrong. And it stings.
He must take my silence as permission, or at least agreement, because he takes another step closer, his voice dropping down to something he probably thinks is seductive, “You know he won’t keep you, right?”
My lips part while my mind screams at me to say something, anything, to defend myself and Angelo. But the words get stuck in my throat as my mouth goes dry. What could I even say? I’ve only known Angelo for about twelve hours, if that. And the only thing Romeo knows about me is that I sell my body to get by.
“He’ll throw you away when he’s done with you.” He says the words like they’re a foregone conclusion and I find myself wondering if they are. “Not only is he too old for you, but you’re just a whore. He’ll use you for the only thing you’re good for. Then he’ll get bored and you’ll be right where you belong—in the trash next to the used condoms he’s gone through while plowing your body.”
My breath hitches, but it’s not for the reason Romeo thinks if the gleam in his eye is anything to go by. For the first time since I walked into the kitchen and Romeo started spewing his hate-filled words, I find myself wondering if he knows his brother at all.
Angelo cut out my birth control implant. He told me about his plans to put a baby in me. The way he looked at me didn’t holdany hesitation, only resolve and determination. Could a man like that do what Romeo is saying?
Would he throw me away?
Even though it doesn’t make sense, I’m doubting Romeo’s words.
When Romeo reaches out to grab me, I’m quick to stumble back a few steps. “No,” my voice is weak, scratchy, and coated in fear I wish I could hide, “don’t touch me.”
Romeo’s face morphs into a mask of pure fucking rage. “Oh,” he spits out the words, “you’ve fucked my brother and now you think you’re more than you are?”
I swallow hard and consider whether I’d be fast enough to get away if I made a break for it. Honestly, I have my doubts. And I really wish I would have put more clothing on than just one of Angelo’s discarded shirts. I didn’t exactly have a lot of options though.
Before he can come closer, I take another step backwards and hit a solid, warm chest. My eyes widen as I start to shake because the body standing behind me can only belong to one man.
Angelo Amato.
When I glance back at him, he’s not looking at me. He’s looking at his brother with fire in his eyes along with the promise of retribution.
“It’s a good thing you didn’t touch her, little brother,” Angelo’s words are calm, but he’s seething and barely holding himself back. “If you had, I’d be cutting off your hand before killing you.”
Romeo, fueled by stupidity and unwarranted confidence, throws his head back and laughs like his brother has just made the most hilarious joke. Angelo’s arm wraps around me, and his large hand splays open on my lower abdomen. If it’s a reminder, I’m not sure if it’s for me or him. Either way, it has the hurt of Romeo’s words fading just a little more.
“Good morning,la mia pace,” he whispers low enough for only me to hear, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear. When he kisses my neck, I shiver in his arms and avoid Romeo’s piercing gaze. “Now,” he stands up to his full height at my back, “what is going on here? What are you doing in my home, Romeo?”
“You clearly came by to see me last night,” Romeo fires back with a shrug. “Since we didn’t get to talk, I figured I would stop by.” His eyes rake over me, disdain written all over his face. “I wasn’t expecting to find,” he clears his throat, and I know in my gut he wants to call me a whore, “Dove here.”
“Where else would she be?” Angelo’s voice is far too casual and I almost cringe because Romeo is going to walk right into this one.
“She should be rinsing dried come from her body in whatever hole she calls home,” Romeo bites out the words while staring at me instead of looking at his brother. “Isn’t that what whores do after a busy night?”
I want to recoil. I want to curl up into a ball in the corner and gently rock back and forth until the tension around me fades away.
But I have no other choice than to stand right where I am. The way I’m trapped has my heart pounding in my chest while my eyes dart around the room.
