Letting myself feel lust for Maximo is completely different from Vito. Maximo is a man that no matter how attractive he is or how skilled he is with his dick, I’m not going to fall for him. He doesn’t try to hide his true, ugly personality.
Vito, on the other hand, he’s more manipulative. He has moments when he’s so sweet that my tooth aches. He makes me forget that he’s part of the men who have forced me into my current circumstance. He touches me so tenderly that I could easily mistake it for love.
And then the other shoe drops and that dark side of him leaves no room for the light side.
His actions are too confusing for me to allow myself to get too close.
Especially now that I know what he did, what they did.
But I have a hard time remembering that as his hand slides over my hip, gripping tight enough to leave an imprint of each little fingertip. I want to tell him that he’s doing the exact same thing that Maximo did to put those scars on my shoulder, even if his touch is gentler, his nails not biting into my flesh.
I blow out a deep breath, a tremble running through me. He releases me before lightly touching my shoulder and spinning me around. I look up at him, my head touching the hard cabinet as I tilt it back.
Concern wars with something else on his face. “Maximo did it, didn’t he?” he asks after a moment, keeping his voice low.
I give a tight nod.
He leans his head back, his fingers coming up to squeeze the bridge of his nose.
“Giovanni needs to do something about him before I kill-”
“I wanted him to do it,” and there the words are, right there out in the open. No mistaking them.
And when Vito’s face crumbles as he looks at me, I don’t regret the words. Because a part of me wants to hurt him the same way he’s hurt me. The same way that the words Diamond said to me, nearly killed me.
I want him to burn with hate.
“Why?” he asks, the word so low that I almost don’t hear it.
“Why not?” I shoot back and it seems to drive the knife in deeper.
Good.
He takes a step away from me, giving a small shake of his head. He opens his mouth to say something before snapping his lips back closed.
I don’t know what I want him to do. Lash out at me, say he doesn’t care, threaten to kill Maximo again? Threaten to kill me.
The kitchen door flies open and my head snaps up as Giovanni steps into the room. He comes to a stop, his sharp eyes moving from me to Vito.
Creases form at the corner of his mouth.
“Am I interrupting something?” he asks, his tone cold and hard.
On instinct, I shrink away and that makes his gaze snap right back to me.
I see Vito move out of the corner of my eye and when I turn to look at him, I find that his gaze is back on me.
My skin buzzes under the intensity of both of their gazes.
“No,” Vito says after. “You’re not interrupting anything.” He takes a step back and then he turns on his heel, leaving the room.
And as he goes, I’m left fighting between guilt and satisfaction.
***
When I think of a good time, the last thing my mind goes to is baseball. And as I take my seat next to Giovanni in the owner’s box for some MLB team, I know today isn’t going to be enjoyable.
When is it ever enjoyable when you have to be around Giovanni?