Page 11

Chapter Eleven

FIAMETTA

“ W hat’s going on in there?” Tomas Bernardi’s voice booms from outside my door. As if it wasn’t bad enough that my stalker woke me up earlier tonight, Tomas’s screeching comes just as I’m drifting off again.

“Why are you yelling?” I shout right back.

A whole lot of good he is as security if it took him this long to respond to the noises he must’ve heard from my emerald-eyed monster’s touch. Just thinking about what happened, again, sends butterflies through my stomach, and turns my cheeks several shades of a darker red.

God, there really is something wrong with me.

“Don’t toy with me, girl. What game are you playing?” He’s drunk again. I can tell by the subtle slurring over certain words, but more so by his total lack of common sense and reason.

The ludicrous notion that anything is happening behind my closed door is one thing, but his calling me girl is what really pisses me off. There used to be a time when Tomas wouldn’t dare call me anything other than Miss Napoli, out of fear of facing Father’s rage.

He’s gotten too comfortable living in my home over the last few weeks, and it's high time someone put Tomas back in his place.

“You’d be wise to remember where you are and who you’re talking to, Tomas.” I don’t show any signs of my bubbling temper, favoring a calm voice with stern intention.

Silence.

Good. For the first time since he arrived here, Tomas is actually thinking before he blurts out whatever comes to mind. However, when he finally finds the nerve to respond, I don’t get the humbled apologies of a Napoli underling. Instead, Tomas erupts into hysterical laughter that lingers far longer than it ought to with how serious I’m being.

“Who do you think you’re talking to?” He finally hisses when his laughter comes to an abrupt halt. “Think I’m one of Daddy’s scared soldiers? Afraid to face the big bad don’s wrath?”

He bangs against my door in a fit of rage, and my spiking fear sends a cold shiver down my spine. Two more loud knocks follow against the wood, each one more violent than the last.

I decide Tomas has lost his mind. I need to do something about this before he gets in here. I grab my phone and dial my father’s number. He’ll know how to handle this problem better than I can. At the very least, he’ll give Tomas a good beating for his display of utter disrespect.

It isn’t the first time he’s referred to Father as Daddy . And the brazen way with which he says it, leads me to believe that this old fool has been sitting in a seat of power too long. He’s grown comfortable at Father’s side and believes himself untouchable.

Well, if I can’t change his mind, the big bad don will.

Unless Father doesn’t answer, and as it stands it doesn’t look as if he’s going to. Normally he never lets his phone ring beyond the third note when I call, and we’re well past that now.

“What’s the matter?” Tomas tests again. “Cat got your tongue?”

His words send me into a new panic. What if Tomas has finally become unhinged because something has happened to Father? Would the Napoli consigliere be so rude and obnoxious toward the head of this family otherwise?

“How about you open that door, Fia? Let’s you and I have a little chat.” His menacing tone isn’t helping quell my fears. It’s as if every time I think, he speaks to keep the doubt alive.

“Go away,” I shout, cowering beneath my blanket.

“Open this door, right now.” Tomas barks, and I can hear him jostling the handle as if every new twist might magically unlock it. “I’m not screwing around. Something’s happening in there, and I’m going to find out what it is.”

“Nothing’s happening. I’m trying to sleep.” Can he even hear me over how feeble I sound?

“Fine.” An unsettling quiet follows. But as uncomfortable as it is, the silence doesn’t last nearly as long as I would like it to. “Then I’ll huff,” Tomas starts, before another heavy thud comes at my door. This time, it sounds like his full weight is smashing into the thick wood. “And I’ll puff.” He’s shouting the words while he continuously bangs against the door.

“Stay away from me,” I shout, trying to reason with whatever sanity might be left in him.

My attempts go ignored and the constant barrage on my door continues. It sounds like a mixture of his shoulder driving into the middle, and vicious kicks colliding with the door handle. Finally, the locks give out and splinters of wood allow the monster inside.

“And I’ll blow your house down,” Tomas finishes with a gut-wrenching grin in the doorway. His drunken, wild eyes stare at me cowering beneath my blanket, before they drift across the room to see if anyone else really is in here.

Luckily for my stalker, he vanished half an hour ago. Or is it Tomas who’s the lucky one?

“What do you want?” My voice is timid and fearful.

What the hell is wrong with me? I managed to hold my own, if only a little, against a man I know is trying to kill me. Tomas, on the other hand, makes me so scared I can barely think straight.

Unlike my stalker, Tomas doesn’t have any pleasant intentions toward me tonight. I can tell by the way his narrowed eyes scan my blanket, lingering uncomfortably long across my body.

“Trying to call Daddy?” Tomas pats a hand along the wall in search of the light switch. He flicks it on, and the sudden beam of bright white light leaves me blinded. “He won’t help you; you know?”

Just as Tomas says it, an automated voice comes from my cellphone. “You have reached the voice mail box of—” it reads father’s number, “please leave a message after the tone.”

Not much good it’s going to do me tonight, but at least I’ll have Tomas on a recording talking shit about his boss. Tomas fumbles his way toward my bed, and as my eyes adjust to the bright lights, I realize how completely drunk he really is. He can barely walk straight without his upper half swaying. His eyes aren’t narrow out of what I originally perceived as fury, but because they’re too heavy to stay open.

“What do you want, Tomas?” I repeat my question.

“To see what all the ruckus is about.” Tomas stops at the foot of my bed.

“There was no ruckus . You’re hearing thin—”

Tomas rolls his eyes and grabs my duvet. “Then this shouldn’t be a problem,” he says, before pulling it off my body with force.

I recoil as far away from him as I can and grab the pillow under my head to place against my lower body as a barrier to his sickening gaze. Making myself a tiny ball against my headboard isn’t going to do much to stop him, but at least it stops his wild eyes from seeing something I don’t want him to.

Now, his eyes are moving. They range from my face to my shirted chest and finally to my legs which are clinging to the pillow for dear life.

“A wet spot on the bed?” Tomas snickers as his inspection reaches my sheets.

A wet spot left by my jewel-eyed monster’s touch, and all the fuel Tomas needs to go on with whatever nightmare he has in store for me.

“Either you pissed yourself, or you lied to me. Which is it?” He’s serious now, and his brows furrow in annoyance above his heavy eyes.

“Get out of my room,” I shout, realizing that nothing’s going to change if I stay feeble and weak. That’s a surefire way of landing in a position I can’t come back from. At least, fighting will at least give me a chance of walking away from this unharmed.

“That’s what I thought, you dirty slut.” A sickening smirk forms on Tomas’s face, and he presses a knee onto the bed. “Don’t let me stop you. Show me what you were doing.”

He stretches an arm out and his fingers brush against my ankle. Fear claws at my chest over what’s about to come. I can shout and scream, but I can’t stop him from doing whatever he’s going to do. And although Father will get revenge on my behalf tomorrow, there’s not much comfort in that while I have to endure Tomas’s touch.

“Don’t touch me,” I roar, as hot tears start to well in my eyes.

But Tomas shrugs off my plea, allowing his fingers to travel up my leg. My stomach churns when his greasy hand crosses my knee. His eyes stare directly at my center, where my legs refuse to part from the pillow that’s stuck between them. I won’t give him the satisfaction; he’ll have to steal it from me.

“Smooth like silk,” Tomas shivers as he indulges in stroking my bare skin. “Is it the same all the way up?”

I want to scream. To kick my legs at him wildly to stop the inevitable. I want to launch myself off my bed and sprint for the door. Run away and never look back.

But I can’t.

My body is frozen in place. I’m trapped in the cataclysmic fear of Tomas’ taking advantage of me.

His free hand joins the other. They both settle on opposite thighs, before his calloused fingers dig into my flesh. Not hard enough to hurt, but the intention is evident.

“You might as well give it to me now, Fiametta,” Tomas says, in a cold, husky whisper. “It’s going to happen whether you like it or not. It’s just a matter of timing.”

What is that supposed to mean?

“So spread ‘em. Let me see what’s rightfully mine. Have a touch and a taste. Help you finish what you started.” He starts pulling his arms apart. Not with enough force to spread my legs, but this sick monster is enjoying this too much to rush.

With a whimper, the first tears start to fall down my cheeks. As much as I want to believe I can get away from this, I can’t. He’s too big, too strong and too mean for me to fight him off.

That doesn’t mean I’m going to give in completely. Weeping or not, I’m going to keep myself pinned down as best I can.

But, before Tomas has the chance to force my legs apart any further, a knock comes at my front door. It’s a loud, panicked banging that I haven’t heard before.

“Tomas,” a voice booms so loudly from the other side, that I could swear whoever shouted the name was in my bedroom. “You need to get out of here. NOW!”

“What bullshit.” Tomas hisses. And while he seethes at the thought of his fun being cut short, he digs his fingers into my skin until it starts to hurt so bad, my legs start feeling numb. “Don’t think I’m finished with you, Fia.”

He releases me and goes.

When I’m sure Tomas is gone, I rush to my door and close it as best I can given that the locking mechanism is broken. I grab my handbag and a few scattered outfits from the piled clothing monster, to jam it shut. Sure, it won’t keep Tomas out if he tries to get in again, but at least I can pretend I’m safe.

“Bruno’s dead,” I hear someone say, while I toss the last of my clothes pile in front of the door.

“What? When did that happen?” Tomas hisses. I’m sure he’d be shouting if the news wasn’t this alarming. Not that I know who Bruno is, but another man down can only mean one thing:

My stalker is back at work.

“Ten minutes ago. Maybe twenty.” The unknown speaker answers. “Happened in the alleyway while Bruno was on patrol.”

“That means he was here,” Tomas growls. “What about his partner?”

“Missing. Presumed dead.”

I fall back into bed, shaking off what could’ve been had this tragedy not unfurled...

Did my masked monster kill those men to save me from Tomas?