Page 4 of Brutal Heir

“Well, it’s definitely not helping.”

“Come on, Ale!” Serena and Bella whine from across the table.

“Yeah, come on, it’ll be like old times,” Matteo chimes in.

Right, like old times. Only this time, the women will be running away from me instead of toward me once they see the right side of my face, no, my whole damned body, littered with scars.

Fuck, I hate this.

“I’ll think about it,” I grumble before pushing away from the table. “Excuse me.” The wheelchair easily rolls back, and I’m thankful for a quick escape.

“Do you want me to go with you?” Alessia offers.

“No, I don’t need you holding my dick to piss,” I grind out. Definitely harsher than I meant to.

Her dark brows furrow beneath the platinum blonde bangs, and a twinge of guilt batters my insides. I’ve always been an ass, but I’m fully aware I’ve taken it to new levels in the last month.

“Sorry,” I grumble. “I’ve got this.”

She nods quickly before turning her attention back to the conversation of our big night out. The one there’s no way in hell I’m going to. Carefully, I wheel myself around the bustling table, narrowly avoiding my youngest cousin, Rex, who can’t seem to keep all four legs of his chair on the floor.

Wheeling across the long corridor, the cacophony of laughter and clinking glasses finally falls away, and I heave in a relieved breath. Allowing my smile to wane, I’m free to just be my miserable, angry self. I turn the corner and nearly run into a familiar form.

The hot, blonde server freezes in front of me, as I roll the wheelchair to a stop only inches from her feet.

“Shit, sorry,” I mutter, my hands curling around the push rims, jaw clenched with the movement.

“Oh, no, it was my fault.” She offers that smile again, the pitying one, and my fingers tighten around the rubber rings mounted to the wheels.

A swirl of anger bubbles to the surface at her soft smile and the sadness in her eyes. She seems around my age with long, blonde hair pulled into a neat ponytail. Beneath the crisp white oxford shirt, I can just make out the swell of her breasts. With every lingering glance, the fury grows more uncontrollable. A few months ago, she never would’ve looked at me like that. No woman would. I was the Gemini heir, rich, powerful, attractive and most of all feared.

“Can I help you get into the bathroom?” She ticks her head over her shoulder to the open door.

Something snaps inside me. “No, there’s nothing you can do to help me, sweetheart,” I growl, “except go in there and get on your fucking knees for me.”

Her eyes widen, and I’m not sure who’s more surprised by the outburst. But as my harsh words echo in the growing silence between us, a whisper of the man I used to be surges to the surface.

“Did you hear me?” I snarl, the savage timbre steadier now. “Get in that bathroom, down on your knees.”

She pales, but a hint of excitement sparks in her wide eyes. Her head dips, and in a hushed, breathy murmur, she replies, “Yes, Mr. Rossi, whatever you say.”

CHAPTER 2

SOMETHING MONSTROUS

Alessandro

The roar of the blood pounding through my veins muffles the click-clack of the girl’s heels on the marble. I can’t keep my eyes off the mesmerizing sway of her hips as she darts in front of me and scurries into the bathroom.

Fuck, this is actually happening.

After months with only the company of my rough palm, I’ll finally get a much-needed release. I wheel myself into the bathroom behind her and watch as she drops to her knees in the tight pencil skirt.

I can’t quite believe my eyes as her hands find my thighs and slowly work their way up. I shouldn’t be this surprised… all my life women have fallen to their knees for me, but that was before. I would never admit it to my sister, the queen of narcissism, but I too am, nowas, vain. I’d taken my good looks for granted. Now that I’ve been permanently scarred across the right side of my face, neck and every inch of my body, I understand for the first time in my life how fleeting beauty really is.

Darkness edges into the corners of my vision, the pungent, ghostly scent of smoke filling my nostrils. I wince as memories of the explosion rush to the surface. Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to chase them away, to focus on the slender fingers teasing their way to the zipper of my slacks.

I want this. I need this. To feel something other than pain. To be wanted. Desired.