“Yes.”
“And this is me telling you that you’re not.”
We glared at one another, the soft cries from the imprisoned girls around us.
Father clicked his tongue. “Are you sure about that?”
“Without a fucking doubt. She’s already my wife. I already tore her virginity out and left it bloody on her sheets. There’s nothing you need to help me with, Father. I have it covered. I definitely don’t need you to teach me how to make my woman come.”
His stare hardened, something dark and ugly flashing in his eyes before he schooled his face and rapped his knuckles on the table.
“Then maybe we’ll start a new tradition,” he said.
“Maybe we will.”
He nodded. “So be it.”
We stared one another down before I spoke again, “I am curious about Nathan Walker though, Bianca’s father. I’ve heard rumors.”
Father raised his brows at me. “What rumors have you heard?”
“That he worked for you.”
Father smirked and looked down at his lap before he fixed his gaze on me. “He did some books for us. Stole lots of money from me.”
“Did you kill him?” I waited, holding my breath.
When it came to murder, he’d never lied to me about those he ended. Their names were trophies to him. He’d never deny a trophy.
“I did not,” he said, sneering. “He disappeared before I could, taking my money with him. You marrying his daughter is like a gift from the devil, dropped right into my lap.”
“So you wanting to fuck my wife is a revenge thing?”
He gave me a wicked smile. “It’s a De Santis thing.”
I swallowed, nodding.
“Someday you’ll have a son, and he’ll take a wife. You’ll carry on our traditions by fucking her until she begs for mercy in front of him and your men. It makes no difference if he loves her or hates her. It matters not what name she has or the amount of begging she does. What matters is that you do what you need to do because it’s who the fuck we are.” He surveyed me, leaning in. “I did not raise you to be soft, Domenico. You are a De Santis. We fuck who and what we want without guilt. We let go when we need to let go. We never love. Love is a weakness. Your wife is flesh and bone. A nice, warm hole to bury yourself in when you’re not busy fucking someone else. Don’t forget it.”
“I don’t love her,” I said softly, hating the lie as it left my mouth.
“Then me spreading her legs shouldn’t matter.” He stood and smoothed down his suit.
I got up and locked gazes with him. “It changes nothing. That tradition ended with my mother."
“We’ll see,” he said coolly. “As much as I’d like to continue this conversation, I have some things that need to be tended to.”
“As do I.”
His gaze swept over me before he nodded and walked ahead of me up the stairs, his body still stiff. I knew he was pissed off. And I knew I should be concerned about it. Part of me wanted to believe he wouldn’t do anything stupid, but the other part knew him. Evil didn’t just back down. It simply grew a second head and started destroying shit.
“I’ll see you at six tomorrow night,” he said, turning to me at the door. “Start considering your business plan. You’ve yet to impress me with your current one. I’d hate to think I raised a coward.” And with those sweet words, he pivoted on his heel and disappeared to his waiting car.
“Prick,” I muttered under my breath the moment he was gone.
Haley bustled out in a skimpy, red dress and offered me a quick smile. There were guards all over this place—all my father’s men ready to rain hell down on anyone who stepped out of line. It was probably why Haley hadn’t broken free and run the fuck out of there. They’d shoot her in the back before she made it to the eight-foot-high, wrought iron fence.
“Do you need anything, Mr. De Santis?” she asked nervously.
“Yes.” I turned to her. “I want you to inform me if my father comes back. I’ll be upstairs tending to something.” I handed her a card with my cell number on it.
She licked her lips. “Should I log it in the book that you received services from one of the girls—”
“No,” I snapped at her.