He steadies the bag as it swings away and faces me. “I don’t need to see a doctor, and I don’t care if it hurts. The pain reminds me I’m alive. I want the pain. Now, go sit the fuck down and get out of my face.”
I blink at the bite in his voice and the rage in his tone. He likes the pain? What is he, a sadist? It’s obvious he’s not used to people looking at him, caring for him, noticing him even, not in the shadow of his brother. That strikes something within me. I’d always been the little sister, the less pretty, less tall, less everything version of my sister.
Hoping to get through to him, I touch his shoulder softly, gentling my tone. “You deserve to take care of yourself. Remaining in pain won’t change anything.”
His fingers tighten around the bag in front of him. “What would you know about it, princess?” I flinch at the pet name for me. He definitely doesn’t call me princess like Nicolo does. His tone is all murderous rage. “You were pampered and spoiled, brought up in your mansion with anything and everything you wanted. After our parents died, we had to scrape and claw our way to the top. And every day, we have to fight to stay here. So, don’t give me any of your bullshit. You don’t know what it’s like to starve, to sleep on the streets. To wonder if the last breath you took will be the final one.”
He shoves the bag back into the corner and slips his shirt back over his head. “Since you seem to want to talk, let’s return to my questions.”
I retreat a few steps, but he doesn’t let me get far, grasping my upper arm to drag me toward him. “Does your father have any fears?”
“If he does, he never told me them,” I whisper, trying to rectify this man in front of me with every version he presents. The man who saved me from the auction block to this fearsome fighter in front of me.
“Are you sure about that?” he asks, tightening his grip.
A bolt of pain lights up my arm. I want to be strong, to be fierce, but there is no fighting with Lucas. “You’re hurting me. Let go.”
“Answer the question.”
“I’m fucking sure he’s never mentioned any fears to me. We’ve never been a sharing sort of family, and even if we were, no one confesses their fears out loud.”
Instead of releasing me, he tightens his hold. Pins and needles shoot down my limb in time with my racing heart.
“Fine. No fears that you know of, but joys? How about those? Anything he loves most since obviously, you and your sister aren’t on that list.”
My mouth drops open. He’s an asshole. “Is that necessary? Why are you doing this? I understand you want answers, fine, but you don’t need to hurt me, and you don’t need to be a dick.”
Lucas cocks his head. “Are you this mouthy with my brother?”
“Yes, and he punishes me for it every single time.”
His eyes narrow, and his mouth tips up at one side. “Oh, I’ve heard how he likes to punish you.”
My face flames hot, and I glance away. If he wants to hurt me, at the very least, I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing it in my eyes. “Besides his cigar collection, I don’t know of anything my father loves. Well, outside of power. He enjoys being in charge of any situation he finds himself in. If he’s not, then he won’t do it.”
He gives me a little shake, a new slice of pain radiating down to my fingers. “Is that all you have?
“Fuck, yes. Now, let me go.” I try to pull my arm from his grasp, but once he lets me go, his other hand clamps around my neck as he slowly backs me toward the wall.
“I’m done playing games. The only reason I saved your worthless life was to find out the worst possible way to murder your father, but if you can’t tell me that, then you’re useless to me, and I might as well kill you.”
I clamp my mouth shut and stare at him. If he wants me to beg, he’s going to have to work a lot harder than that.
“Nothing? Well…” He pulls a knife from his pants and flicks it open smoothly. But he doesn’t do more than hover the pointed tip near my cheek.
It’s a line in the sand. Which one of us will break first? Because I can see in his eyes, he won’t kill me. At the very least, to protect himself from his brother’s rage.
Maybe he can tell what I’m thinking because he says, “I don’t have to kill you to make you hurt. Or give you a matching scar on your other cheek.”