Devil You Hate (The Diavolo Crime Family 1)

He narrows those pensive eyes and shoves the plate over the edge of his desk. It hits the floor with a thump but doesn’t shatter. The eggs spill out in an arc around it. “The point is you’re a spoiled bitch who needs to learn her place.”

He shoves his desk chair back. The strength of it causes it to crash into the wall. My lips press firmly together, and I try to keep my mouth in check as he stalks over to where I’m sitting. Last night, he told me to stop fighting him. No doubt he counts this argument as me fighting. I’m going to die in this place if I don’t watch it.

He hovers over me, and I huddle into myself, waiting for whatever fresh hell he offers me today. Dropping to his haunches, he crouches in front of me, a move he seems to enjoy doing, but so far, it only precedes some kind of violence. “Your place is wherever the fuck I say it is.” His voice is icy cold, and I shiver at the chill his words spread over my skin.

“Okay,” I whisper, keeping my eyes down on my oranges.

When he returns to his desk, I finally draw a full breath and uncoil my tense muscles. How much more of this does he expect me to take?

Silence settles over us, but the room only grows more tense with every passing minute. He has gone back to scribbling something on paper, ignoring me completely.

“You said you are going to sell me. My family has money if that’s what you need.” My voice is small and submissive, and I hate every syllable that leaves my lips, but I don’t think approaching him any other way is going to do me any good.

He doesn’t look at me as he waves at his office. “Does it look like I need money?”

“So this is just about revenge for you?” Silence greets me yet again, so I continue in the hopes he will hear me out. “I know you hate my father for whatever he has done to you, but I am not him. Just let me go. If you do, I won’t tell anyone anything. I’ll go away. I’ll never go back home. I can promise you that.”

Finally, he glances up at me. “I’m not letting you go, so you can fucking forget that. What I want from you is for you to sit there, eat your food, and shut up.”

I flinch back in the chair and drop my gaze. Quietly, I eat the oranges and gently place the peels on the seat beside me. When I finish chewing, I watch him as he scribbles down the ledger, one line at a time.

“I—”

He huffs loudly, annoyed. “If you say one more goddamn word, I’m going to give you my full attention, and believe me when I tell you, you won’t enjoy it very much.”

His warning is clear, and I slump back again, waiting, but time ticks by slowly as he refuses to acknowledge me. Instead of waiting patiently like a good girl, I cross the room to the mess he made of the eggs on the floor and try to clean it up as best I can with the linen napkin the kitchen lady had placed with his silverware.

After that, I gather the orange peels and pile them on the plate and sit the mess on a table near the door. When I turn to take my chair again, I find he is staring at me over his desk. The pen long forgotten, his eyes on me, intense and focused. Suddenly, I’m not wearing enough clothing for the hungry look in his eyes. My pulse races and my mouth goes dry. Flicking my tongue out, I wet my bottom lip. This is a cat-and-mouse game I won’t win.

I cross the room quickly, all but diving for the chair. He closes the book on his desk, the sound making me jump. When he swivels to face me, I know damn well I shouldn’t have moved from my seat.

Intent on not drawing his attention further, I keep my eyes on my hands and tuck my feet under me in the chair. I think maybe he’ll direct his attention to something else, but it’s too late for that.

Shoving away from the desk, he faces me in his own chair. “Come here.” He’s not asking, he’s ordering.

I don’t meet his eyes and shake my head. “I’m good. I won’t move, promise.”

His tone tells me everything I need to know about how much I just fucked up. “You’re good?” Menace laces each word.

Shit. Damn. Fuck.

In one fluid movement, he drives himself out of the chair and stalks toward me. His grip is tight as he lifts me by the waist like I weigh nothing. Without a word, he settles me across his lap. I consider struggling, but what good would it do me? He’d just overpower me anyway. He places me in his lap, diagonally. “Let’s try this again. When I give you an order, you follow it without question or delay.”