Whack! Whack! Whack!
I nail him hard in the throat, making him gag. Enough whacks to his throat and I’ll crush his windpipe. Yanking on his hair with one hand to tilt his head back, I swing with the other over and over against his Adam’s apple with his severed foot. A nasty crunching sound can be heard and then raspy wheezing. I continue nailing him with the foot until the sock rips and the foot flings out. Blood covers my front and I’m breathing heavily with exertion.
“I hate liars,” I snarl, my eyes locking with Talia’s blue, terror-filled ones. “People loyal to me don’t lie. I expect you’ll learn to be quite loyal.”
I move to stand behind Cy, staring at the Nikolaides woman, who seems to want to learn lessons the hard way. Gripping Cy’s head, I twist hard to the right, snapping his neck and ending his miserable existence.
“Call Franco to clean this up,” I bark out to Adrian as I head over to the sink. “And give me your shoes.” I unbutton my shirt and peel it off before tossing it over to where Cy’s body sits. I kick off my shoes and step into the clean ones Adrian offers to me. Then, I start washing what I can of the blood off me. “Tell Phynn I’ll want my car detailed by tomorrow. This shit will stain.”
Adrian is already on the phone to Franco. Franco owns a funeral home and crematory. For his aid in disposing of bodies, he receives preferential treatment from our family and handsome payments.
“Be a doll, will you, and grab my jacket,” I instruct to Talia.
When she makes no moves to get up, her body trembling violently, I whistle sharply.
“Now, moró mou.”
She rises and stumbles over to the chair with my jacket before snagging it up. It gets tossed to me as she storms up the stairs. I pull it on along the way up and grab her before she’s made it out of the door. Pinning her to the wall, I glower down at her.
So small.
Breakable.
Mine now.
“Your attitude fucking sucks,” I growl. “Learn to keep it in check.”
“Or what?” she hisses. “You’ll beat me with my own foot?”
Smirking, I release her. “I’m sure I’ll come up with something clever to teach you a lesson should you disobey.”
Her blue eyes flare as she pulls away from me. “I hate you.”
“You wouldn’t be the first.” I give her ass a swat. “Pick up the pace. We have dinner reservations at six. I imagine you’d like a shower and a nap before then.”
“I’m not going to dinner with you,” she chokes out, turning on her heel in the kitchen to glower at me. “I can’t stand to look at you.”
Reaching forward, I delicately twirl a strand of her blond hair around my finger and tug. “This is where you seem to be confused. You think you have a say…” I lean forward and rest my forehead to hers. “You. Have. No. Say.”
She pulls away from me and rushes out. I stalk after her, pleased to find her getting back inside my car. Good girl. May as well learn your place in the Demetriou world right away.
Once inside my vehicle, I reach over and take her trembling hand. She attempts to pull it away, but I’m stronger.
“What size ring do you wear?”
“Fuck you,” she breathes, hate dripping from her words.
“Soon, moró mou. Don’t worry.” I chuckle when she hisses at me. “Size six?”
She stubbornly refuses to speak. I pull her hand toward me and inhale her skin before nipping at the back of it.
“Tell me,” I warn. “You don’t want to learn how persuasive my teeth are when I am needing information.” I catch her flesh between my teeth and bite hard enough to make her squirm, but not hard enough to leave a bruise.
“Seven,” she chokes out. “I’m a seven.”
I release her skin and kiss the back of her hand. “Thank you. You’ll learn,” I explain with a smile. “Do as I say and I’ll reward you. Refuse me and I’ll punish you. Understand?”
She nods rapidly, tears streaking down her cheeks.
“Good girl.”
Talia
“Where are we?” I ask as Kostas parks his car in what looks like a private underground carport. “I think my room is on the other side.”
The hotel is huge, but I’ve explored enough of it to know my room is on the south side of the property, and we’re currently on the north side.
“We’re at my place,” Kostas states coldly. “Your stuff has been moved here.”
He exits his vehicle, and without waiting for me, stalks down the walkway. I consider, for a brief second, running in the opposite direction, but then flashbacks to only a few minutes ago surface: of the bloodied man. Kostas sawing off his foot and then beating him with it. Kostas snapping his neck like it was a chicken bone. And I follow behind Kostas.