Taking the knife, I show the older brother the blood dripping from the steel edge before I stab it into his flesh, puncturing a hole just under his ribcage, collapsing his lung.
“You fucked with the wrong man,” I tell him, then stab him again, taking care not to hit anything fatal.
“Do you know that a body’s cells begin breaking down within hours of death? The pungent stench is vomit inducing if you’re not accustom to it. Fluids leak from all orifices. It’s a really an unpleasant thing to witness.”
He moans behind his gag. I pull it free, listening to his labored breathing. A wheeze catches with every intake of breath.
“Just kill me. Kill me,” he begs.
Shoving the gag back into his mouth, I tut, “I plan to kill you—just slow. Your belly and lungs are going to fill up with blood. It’s excruciatingly painful. And while you’re dying, I want you to smell your brother rotting beside you while knowing we’re defiling your little sister.”
His muffled cries feed the demon in me. Handing Marcello back the knife, I dust my hands off—another suit for the fire.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Alyssa
Every part of me feels revived when I wake up in a bed that could fit ten people. The sheets crisp and soft, and there are a mountain of pillows to choose from. It’s heaven against my naked skin.
A clicking sound alerts me to someone unlatching the bedroom door.
Pulling the covers up my body, my cheeks heat when a woman enters with a pile of clothing. “Good morning, madam,” she says to me, giving a slight bow of her head.
“I was asked to bring these to you and inform you breakfast is being served in the dining room.”
“Thank you.” I don’t know what else to say. It doesn’t feel real.
When she leaves the room, I wrap the sheet around my body and go to the pile she left just inside a walk-in closet.
The space is bigger than my room at the farm and Swan put together.
Rows of designer suits hang neatly on what looks like a motorised rack.
Picking up the clothes left for me my eyes enlarge, the price tags dangling from them with numbers that make my eyes water.
A giddy excitement bubbles my stomach, I hold up the underwear to my body, checking myself out in the full-length mirror consuming the back wall. I could get used to this treatment.
Grabbing up the pant suit I head to the shower.
Once I’m washed and dressed, I make my way downstairs, perplexed to see so much activity in the house, such a contrast to last night.
Men I recognize as Luca’s security loiter by the front door. What looks like medical personnel bring in equipment from outside.
Attentively coming down the stairs, a nervous fluttering vibrates in my chest, a startled squeak leaves my lungs when the woman who brought my clothes steps out of the shadows at the bottom, “Madam.” She greets me.
Was she waiting there that whole time for me?
“I’ll show you to the dining room.”
“You can call me Alyssa,” I inform her, and her head bobs in acknowledgment.
Walking through the house in daylight is like a different experience, the grand entry ways and dark wood floors, high hanging chandeliers all look like something from a castle not a house.
My mother would have been in her element here, she’d love the royal feel it gives off.
Entering the dining room, butterflies dance inside me, the aroma of cooked meats filter into my nose.
There’s a long cherry wood table dominating the centre of the space, with high back chairs. My eyes track to Luca who is sat next to an older man at the head of the table, both eating and talking to each other.
My stomach growls, reminding me I’m starving, his eyes turn to mine. “There you are.” Luca grins when he sees me, and a blush crawls up my neck from his predatory gaze.
“Come, Alyssa.” He stands, taking my hand and propping me in front of the older gentlemen.
His worn, weathered face holds a fraction of resemblance to Luca. “This is my father.”
“It’s a pleasure, sir,” I say, offering my hand. There’s something in his eyes that brings out the submissive in me, he commands the room, including his son.
He reaches for me, taking my hand and gesturing for me to twirl.
“Good hips for bearing children,” he announces, like he’s sampling cattle.
“Amongst other things,” Marcello chimes in, entering the room with the swagger of a film star. “I hope it’s okay if I join you?” He holds his hands out, waiting for the invitation.
“Our table is your table, brother.” Another voice joins the gathering. My lips part when he comes into view. It’s the man from the benefit.
Didn’t he say he was Marcello’s brother?
“Antonio, shouldn’t you be sleeping off a hangover somewhere?” Luca’s father grumbles, coughing, his chest rattling, like mother’s used to.