Stepping into the family room, I reached forward and turned on the light. The image that greeted me would forever be seared into my mind’s eye.
Dino sat back on the sofa—the sofa we had chosen together a week before our wedding—while a young woman sucked his dick with great enthusiasm.
I stood there, glued to the spot, watching.
The woman’s head bobbed as she worked my husband’s cock. Then Dino opened his eyes. They were bloodshot. He blinked slowly then his gaze landed on me. And he smiled. He smiled that dazzling smile I loved.
I would never be affected by that smile again. That smile was dead to me.
Reaching down, he fisted the woman’s blonde hair and pushed her down harder, forcing her to work harder. And she did, gagging but moaning all the while.
Shame on me. I stupidly forgot how people reacted to men like Dino. And secretly, somewhere deep inside, I wished I was affected by him the way this woman was. But I wasn’t.
And now, I never would be.
His words slurred, he uttered a cold, “Hey, baby. Wanna join us?”
The woman turned to face me, and I lifted a hand to my mouth. She was no older than me. Her brows furrowed, and she asked, “Who’s that?”
Dino and I responded in unison. “My wife.” “His wife.”
Heart aching at the betrayal of my husband and friend, I forced a smile and managed to get out, “Have fun,” before turning and walking away. I heard Dino grate out, “Get the fuck out of here,” followed by a feminine gasp and light thud as he pushed her to the floor.
It would be the first of many identical incidents.
The front door opened then closed as the woman let herself out. Footsteps followed me down the hall. As my foot landed on the first step, a strong hand grasped my elbow and pulled me back harshly. Not used to this kind of treatment, I shouted an outraged, “Hey!” Then I was up against the wall with a threatening hand laced around my throat.
The hand rested there in warning and Dino’s eyes blazed. “Jealous?”
Jealous? No. Feeling betrayed and angry? Yes.
I swallowed hard at the look in his eye, and whispered, “No.”
The impact of his palm across my cheek had me letting out a surprised yelp.
I looked up at Dino Gambino and quickly realized I was in trouble, and I didn’t know my husband at all. I tried again, “Dino, what is this?”
The hand around my neck tightened slightly. Leaning into my face till we were nose to nose, he growled, “You were meant to love me.” He kissed me then. He tasted of whiskey and lemon candy. Before this night, I liked that taste. Today, I was petrified. Against my lips, he asked, “Do you love me?”
I didn’t answer, that being my answer.
Dino’s non-verbal response was a slap across my face, harder than the last.
A surprised gasp tore through me. Throat tight, I blinked through my tears and tried desperately to get a grasp on this rapidly declining situation. Struggling to breathe, my chest heaved as my heart beat out of my chest.
I was in deep trouble, and no one was coming to save me.
“Do you love me, Alejandra?”
I would have told him I did that time, if I had been given time to answer. Opening my mouth a second too late, the impact of a different kind of blow shook me.
Dino had punched me. He punched me right in the mouth.
I had never been punched before that night. The overwhelming amount of pain radiating from my throbbing face was also new. There had been the odd occasional fight with my sisters when I had been hit in a moment of anger, but those times were always followed by immediate remorse from the person responsible. I had never experienced anger like this. I was visibly shaken. I couldn’t think of anything other than, who is this man?
Thrown to the cold, hard floor, the metallic taste of blood flooded my mouth. My lip tingled and began to swell, and my teeth felt loose. I tried to swallow, but his hand tightened around my neck, lifting me by it. Stars exploded before my eyes as Dino slammed my head back against the wall. There was no way out of this.
I had given my vows. This would be my life until Dino decided to take it for his own.
The realization that only I could change how this went down hit me with a force like no other.
Dino asked me a third and final time, “Do you love me, Bella?”
This time, I answered with no hint of hesitation. My body trembled. Breathing rapidly through my bleeding nose, I lied on a fearful whisper, “Yes, Dino. I love you.”
Pausing, he laughed then, a cold sound. Loosening his hold on me, but never letting go, I heard relief line his voice. “I knew you did.” His lips descended, and he kissed me hard. I shuttered my wince. I was still frightened of Dino, but some of the gentleness I’d known had returned. He nipped at my bleeding lip, pulling back to look me in the eye. He stared unblinking before confessing a desperate, “I love you, too, baby.”
His hand brushed my bruised cheek, and his knuckles passed over my split lip, forcing a hiss out of me. Looking somewhat concerned, Dino placed his arm around my shoulders and walked me upstairs. He took me into the bathroom and, gently as possible, wet a cloth and cleaned me up. Lacing his fingers through mine, he attempted to escort me to bed. I hesitated. Dino’s eyes met mine, brow raised in question.
The monster inside currently leashed, I strained a small smile that didn’t reach my eyes and looked over to the toilet. He got the hint and, with a swift kiss on my swollen lips, left me to relieve myself in peace. When I closed the bathroom door, the floodgates opened. I held myself tightly around my middle, collapsing on the floor in silent sobs.
I don’t know how long passed before Dino knocked on the bathroom door asking if everything was okay. Flushing the toilet, I washed my tearstained face and made my way out to sleep in my marital bed with a man who had laid his hands on me.
My husband made love to me that night. He loved me so sweet and gentle that after he had fallen asleep, I cried silently into my pillow in relief. He held me throughout the night, his arms familiar and his body warm.
When I woke in the morning, I found Dino sitting at the foot of our bed, naked, cradling his head in his hands. My movements alerting him to my newly awoken state, he looked up at me. Still unsure, I pulled the sheet up to my chin and attempted to lick my lip, but as my tongue passed over the split, I winced. I wouldn’t see what he saw in my face until later that day, but his reaction said it all. I was a mess. And he was remorseful.
He stood up, looking down at my face, unblinking. His hands balled at his sides, his jaw locked, I saw many emotions pass through his eyes. Pain, sympathy, fury, shame. Placing his hands on his hips, he dipped his chin and I waited.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice shaking.
Hope ignited somewhere inside of me. A small flame I fanned at furiously, desperately, refusing to let it fade to black.
Black was not an option.
I refused to believe I had married a monster. I was sure the night before had been a one-off situation.
I was wrong.
Tired, frustrated, and hungry, I sit on the edge of the too soft motel bed as I slide on my shoes then tie them.
I tell myself to be cool, but Ling and her prom date, Chip, kept me up last night. I’m not feeling very forgiving. I swear to God, if I hear her mutter a word of complaint about being tired today, I will kick her skinny, Gucci-covered ass.
Making my way to the bathroom, I run a hand over my hair, brush my teeth and wash my face. The bags under my eyes are not a good look, especially when a meeting has been scheduled. Shaking my head lightly at my reflection, I sigh then mutter under my breath, “Fucking Ling.”
The woman is a serious pain in my ass.
I run my hands over my suit jacket then head out, picking up my bag on the way. I slide o
n my sunglasses then approach Ling’s door. I knock hard, once. When she doesn’t answer immediately, I bite the inside of my cheek in annoyance. As I lift my hand to knock again, she opens the door.
My eyes drift over her. She’s dressed, made up, primped and ready to go. Her cherry red lips curve up into a smile, and when I see not a single glimpse of exhaustion on her face, it pisses me off tenfold.
But then she does something that reminds me of why I keep her around.
“Good morning, sunshine.” Beaming, she holds out a paper bag and a takeaway coffee cup in the largest size available. Extra points to Ling as I notice the paper bag has grease stains on it.
With a grunt, I take the bag and coffee in one hand then reach down to lift Ling’s duffle then mine with the other. Making my way to the car, I hear her soft laughter behind me. “What crawled up your ass this morning?” As she passes me to stand by the passenger side, her smile turns sly. “If you ask nicely, I’ll tell you all about what crawled up mine last night.”
My lip curls as I unlock the car and step inside, throwing our bags into the back seat. Hearing more feminine laughter only fuels my bad mood.
I take a much-needed sip of coffee. It’s lukewarm but strong. Shit, it could be ice fucking cold, and I would still treat it like a lover. Opening the bag, I peer inside, and my stomach growls loudly. Whatever is in there smells good. I reach in and, without stopping to inspect it, unwrap half of the sandwich and take a monstrous bite. The taste hits me, and I groan. Swallowing, I take another bite of the egg and bacon burger, barely chewing before taking another bite.
I feel eyes on me. Still chewing furiously, I turn to Ling and pause midchew. Mouth full, I garble, “What?”
Her lip curls in revulsion as her brow rises. “I will never get used to the way you eat. You’re a pig.” She mock-shudders. “Disgusting.”
Throwing the last quarter of the burger into my mouth, I speak around it. “Old habits.” I pick up the coffee and sip it. “If you’d ever been to prison, you’d get it.”
Ling eyes me in disbelief before turning to look out the window. “I know lots of people who were in prison. Fucked ‘em too.” She pins me with a stare. “And they don’t eat like pigs.”