"What do I have to be jealous of?"
"She's under my protection. She no longer needs to fear those like you and your dimwit brother. Nothing and nobody will ever touch her. Wouldn't that be nice, Willow, to be protected?"
"I don't need protection."
"Ah, but you do. Look where you are. Look who has you. Look what terrible, awful, humiliating things have happened and will happen…."
"You are a fool," Willow hissed. "Why would I be jealous of someone who is protected by a violent, sexually aggressive bully? Not every woman is secretly a damsel waiting to be saved. Some of us are self-determining. You may strike me, Mr. Vitali, but you will pay for having done so. I promise you that."
Willow wished warm feelings hadn't flashed through her stomach when Angelo spoke about protecting her. He was the threat she needed protection from. The idea of him being anything other than an enemy was ridiculous.
Her cheek stung, as did her pride. She was filled with conflicting emotions, none of which were welcome. The brute still had her by the neck, was still threatening and trying to dominate her.
"Do you believe any of the lies you tell yourself?" Angelo inquired calmly.
"Do you?" Willow rejoined.
"What do you think I am lying to myself about?"
That question unleashed the beast inside Willow Spencer. Her eyes narrowed, and her nose and lips lifted in a sneer as she proceeded to eviscerate him verbally.
"The fact that you are a rapidly aging minor mobster with no real family besides the strays you have kidnapped and brutalized? The fact that you come from nothing, stand for nothing, and will be left with nothing? You will be captured, Mr. Vitali. You will live out your remaining days in a small, tedious cell when the law inevitably finds you. In the meantime, you scurry from hole to hole, hiding from the justice you will never escape. You may impress the poor, but you do not impress or frighten me."
Willow was smaller. Willow was weaker. But Willow's tongue was formidable. She knew how to wield it the way her ancestors had wielded their swords, cutting deep in the most sensitive places.
She expected to spark rage. She expected the brute to strike her again, perhaps to beat her roughly.
Instead, Angelo's mouth descended on hers in a kiss that was as rough and commanding and far more passionate than she had ever expected. His tongue massaged hers, making her head spin as he claimed her mouth, his hand loosening the tight grip at her throat to run down between her breasts, down her stomach, and just above the apex of her thighs. He was almost touching her there… almost. She felt herself tightening on the inside in anticipation of what was yet to come, and then he pulled away, leaving her cold.
"I may be older than you, wench, but I am not yet too old to bring you down. And I will do that, Willow. More than that, I will enjoy every moment of it. And the more you fight me, the more I will enjoy it."
"You like to talk, Mr. Vitali. You like to grandstand and…."
Angelo clapped his hand over her mouth and leaned in again closer this time, so close they were nose to nose.
"I know what you want, Willow."
He drew back, just enough to let her speak, and speak she did, for Willow seemed to have absolutely no idea when to shut up.
"Contrary to your predictable male opinion, not every female is dying to have your withered twig inside her. I have no desire to sleep with you, Mr. Vitali. But I am glad to be here with you. It maximizes the chances that I will witness your downfall firsthand. I am not Digby. People care if I go missing. They will be looking for me, and they will find me. And when they do, you will go to prison."
"I didn't say anything about sex. Interesting that you did. Back in your cage, wench."
She was put behind bars, fuming at having admitted to desiring him. This was how Angelo operated. He made you tear yourself apart. He could be violent and brutal, but he wasn't when he didn't need to be.
The triumphant smirk on his face was enough to make her smolder with barely controlled rage.
"What have you done with Gemma? If she is harmed in any way…."
"I gave her to Bobby. You know as much as I do. Sweet for you to be concerned about your lover…."
"Gemma is not my lover. She is my friend."
"Your friend," Angelo corrected with a smirk.
Your Captive
"Help. Let me go. Oh no. I'm your captive," Gemma deadpanned. Bobby shot her a dark look while she grinned remorselessly.
She was supposed to be hating this. She was supposed to be being tortured, but Bobby mostly liked to vape and talk shit, which was kind of what she liked to do, except without the vaping.