I nod in response. “Damn straight I’m not marrying Emilio. Never in a—wait, what?”
My brain finally catches up with what he said, and I stop dead in my tracks. “Did you just say I’m not going to marry Emilio?”
“I did.”
“Why am I here then?” I point around the room. “Where are we anyway?”
“You’re safe and with me, and that’s all that matters. The second you stared at me at the restaurant with pure terror in your eyes, I knew I couldn’t take it anymore. That memory has haunted me nonstop in my dreams.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you. I was just so shocked, although I shouldn’t have been. It’s my dad, after all.” I walk back to the bed and sit on the edge of it. “And I appreciate the help, I really do. But I’m okay now, I truly am. My dad is not going to marry me off anymore, I made sure of it.”
He tilts his head to the side and studies me, and I wonder what he sees. Does he notice a difference? Do I look any different on the outside, since so much has changed on the inside?
Something cold and dreadful shifts inside my stomach while I watch Frederico’s face change from his normal, calm facade to something else entirely. Something much, much darker. His nostrils flare, and he cracks his neck from side to side, the vein in his throat throbbing and straining against the skin.
He leans forward in his chair and places his elbows on his knees. His cold eyes penetrate mine, and he speaks in a voice I’ve never heard before. It’s menacing and quite frightening. “Bellissima, did you fuck Santarossa?”
I swallow, willing my rolling stomach and the accompanying nausea to calm down. In one of my lessons with Zeno, he reminded me to never underestimate an opponent and to listen to my gut. Always.
But Frederico isn’t my enemy. He’s my cousin. He’sfamily. The guy I constantly played with when I was younger. The boy who called me piccolina because I was the little one following him around everywhere.
So why is he acting this way?
And why am I feeling this sense of dread?
Do the men in my family overreact about old traditions and upholding them? Yeah, maybe. But it’s not the end of the . . .
An ear-splitting noise echoes through the room, and I immediately make myself as small as possible with my head tucked to my chest and my arms over my head.
Once it’s quiet again, I glance up, my mouth falling open at the sight in front of me. The table that just stood a few feet away from me is now scattered around the room in dozens of pieces.
Frederico stands right next to the demolition spot, still clutching one of the table legs in his hands. He’s breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
He takes a step in my direction, never letting go of the piece of wood. “Gemma, did you let Santarossa fuck you?”
He enunciates every word, every syllable, slowly, like he wants to make sure I don’t miss a single one of them.
His expression tightens with every passing moment I don’t answer.
“Gemma,” he roars my name.
A shiver runs through me. “Why . . . why are you asking me this?”
He stops a few feet in front of me and bends down to be at eye level. “Because I want you to tell me if you opened your legs for that bastardo like a little whore.”
A slap to the face couldn’t have shocked me more than his words do. I rear back, my eyes going even wider as I stare at this man in front of me, who seems almost unrecognizable right now. It’s like he put on a mask and turned into a different person altogether, a person I’ve never met before.
Or maybe it’s the other way around, and I’ve never known him in the first place.
I open my mouth and close it again.
Suddenly he’s right in front of me, grabbing my hair and yanking my head back so hard, the sharp pain shooting through my skull has me seeing stars.
“I will ask you one last time, piccolina. Did you let Santarossa fuck you, yes or no?”
“Yes.” I barely get the word through my teeth, trying not to move, while also still trying to figure out what the hell is going on. My mind is in total overdrive, trying to find the missing puzzle pieces in this whole fucked-up situation, since I’m clearly missing something big.
He lets go of me, and I sigh in relief, massaging my scalp where I’m sure a few strands of hair are missing now.