CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: VITO
“Youtorehervagina.”
When I burst into Giovanni’s office, finding him and Maximo sitting across from each other, anger is radiating through me. The way it has been since Winter told me about that fucking pool stick.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I ask, staring at Maximo.
He rises from his seat, amusement alight in his eyes as he watches me. “I could ask you the same thing, Bianchi. What has gotten into you? And what is this I hear about ripped vaginas?”
“I said torn,” I bite out, stepping up to him and poking a finger into his chest. It doesn’t give me near as much satisfaction as flat out punching him would. “You tore her vagina!”
“Winter?” he asks, raising a brow, and again, that damn amusement is on his face.
“Who the fuck else?” I ask him.
“Well, I don’t know,” he muses, “I’ve fucked a few people recently, a couple of them women, so you could be talking about Isabella Accardi as far as I know.”
It’s all I can do not to hit him.
“What’s going on?” Giovanni asks. He’s still sitting in his chair, his eyes moving over me and his brother. A shot glass dangles between his fingers.
I turn toward him, pointing another aggressive finger at his brother. “Maximo fucked Winter with a pool cleaning stick and now her vagina has a tear in it. I had to call Dr. Sofia after Winter came to me saying she was bleeding.”
Giovanni’s face wrinkles before he lifts the glass to his lips and tosses the shot back. He looks at his brother who meets his gaze head on, as if all of this is just boring to him.
“Is this true?” Giovanni asks him, even though I’m sure he already knows the answer.
“Well, I can confirm the whole pool stick thing, but I don’t know anything about the tearing.” He shrugs his shoulders and even though he’s still talking to Giovanni, he looks right at me. “It’s certainly possible, she was pretty damn tight.”
I see red.
When my fist slams into Maximo’s face, satisfaction floods me. My knuckles ache as they split, but it isn't enough to deter me from hitting Maximo again. I lift my fist, going to strike, but my hand is caught and yanked roughly behind me.
I turn, swinging, but my fist stops mid air as I come face to face with Giovanni. His eyes are blazing with anger and his grip on my hand is tight. “Vito,” he says sharply.
“Sorry,” I bite out, even though I don’t mean it. If I could go back in time, I’d hit Maximo again, even harder if possible.
A muscle jumps in Giovanni’s jaw before he releases me. He takes a step back, his gaze moving over my shoulder to his bastard of a brother.
I turn around, sliding my tongue across my teeth when I see the blood dripping from Maximo’s lip.
It serves him right.
He brings a hand up to the wound, looking at the blood as it comes back onto his fingers. His eyes lift to mine as he brings one of the bloody fingers to his mouth and sucks it between his lips.
“I wonder if Winter’s blood tastes as good, maybe I should go and find it.”
If Maximo doesn’t know how to do anything else, he knows how to strike a target right on the mark.
My teeth clench so hard that I’m surprised they don’t break.
“You know, you came in here hot and heavy, ready to make it out as if Winter is the victim,” he says and when he takes a step in my direction I step back. If he gets too close to me, I’m going to deck him again, whether Giovanni likes it or not.
“But let me tell you something that she probably didn’t when she ran to you, expecting you to play hero.” He’s way too close to me, especially with the smug look on his face. “Winter is no victim, she enjoyed every little thing I did to her body in that poolhouse. And when she came with my dick in her cunt and Enzo’s in her mouth, I can promise you she didn’t give two fucks about me ripping her pussy.”
Giovanni’s hand grabs onto the back of my shirt before I can even move.
Maximo’s canines are on display as he grins in victory.