A snicker echoes in the foyer. I slide my phone onto the table and lean back in my chair, my eyes on the open doors. The maid uniform was a last-minute idea on my part. A perfect one, I might add. This little Fontana princess thought she was going to get an easy life of luxury with Horatio Marchello. I bet she thought she had it made. Not on my fucking watch. I won’t be happy until every Fontana suffers, especially her. Whatever innocence she may possess—I’m going to twist it and burn it until its darkness matches mine. She’ll be my pet; one I’ll parade around in front of her parents until it’s finally time to go for their throats.
More laughter drifts through the air, and then I hear a wolf whistle.
Her hooker heels clack on the marble, her steps speeding up until she’s almost jogging down the hall. She slows as she approaches the open dining room, and her shadow flutters through the air as she comes to a stop just out of view.
I check my watch. Her stalling is going to cost her. She only has ten seconds left. I could tell her that, but I’d rather her be late. I’d rather take off my belt, bend her over the table, and give her a taste of the pain she deserves.
Tick tock.
A smile spreads across my face as the last seconds evaporate. I start to stand as she steps into the room.
Fuck. I sit back down. She made it. Barely.
I take her in. The black and white maid uniform hugs her body. The top is cut low across her generous tits, and the skirt barely covers her upper thighs. Her eyes are tired and puffy, her chin quivering—but even so, she’s still a beauty. It amazes me that Leonard and Carmen let her go to college at all. Then again, I suppose her brother Ferdinand had a lot to do with it. He was the hope of the Fontana family, a rising star who was supposed to take the top spot—the one that will soon belong to me.
She walks toward me, her steps small and her gaze moving around the room as if a snake might pop out from the buffet or strike from beneath the table. The only danger to her in this room is me, though I suspect she already knows that.
“How do you like your new home?” I ask.
She jumps a little at my voice, then pauses a few chairs away from me. “It’s … big.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
She reaches out and grips the chair back in front of her, her white nails digging into the fabric. “I don’t like it.”
I don’t know why, but her honesty is amusing. I suppose I assumed she’d be just another lying Fontana. But in this case, I know she’s telling the truth.
“Not as ostentatious as you’re used to, princess?” I suck a tooth. “Very sorry to disappoint you.”
She opens her mouth, then closes it, clearly thinking better of speaking.
For a moment, I’m curious about what she was going to say. Then I come to my senses. I don’t give a shit. She’s just a pawn in my game, a little brat who needs to be broken.
Her gaze travels the room again before landing uneasily on the table in front of me. It’s like she wants to keep me in her sights, but she doesn’t want to look me in the eye. Probably wise of her.
“You went to college?” I ask it like a question, though it isn’t one. I know everything about her. What I don’t know is why I’m talking to her. My plan was to have her serving me breakfast and attending to my every whim.
“Yes.” Her tone is guarded.
“Not for long, though, was it? Leonard pulled you out so he could sell you to the Marchellos.”
Her jaw tightens for a second, though her eyes are still downcast. “Yes.”
“Because your family is trash. Your piece-of-shit father is sitting on a mound of fucking garbage and calling it a kingdom.” I stand. “All because of your name. Isn’t that right, princess?”
She tenses.
I like it.
When she finally meets my gaze, I feel a hint of fire in her. But then she closes off that emotion, her eyes staying neutral as she watches me.
“Yes,” she says grudgingly.
“Yes, your father is a piece of shit?” I snap. “Or yes, your family is garbage? Which is it?”
Her eyes flare again, that fire trying to ignite. But she quells it then looks away. “Both.” Her voice is barely a whisper.
Seeing her in the morning light, I notice her eyes are more green. Or perhaps they just appear that way for now. Her lips are full, and she has an olive tone to her skin that complements her dark hair. My gaze lingers at the bruise on her jaw. Her makeup covered it yesterday, though I still saw it. Today, it’s edged in faint yellow, the center still purple.