Page 25 of Dark Breaker

I stand, but I’m still looking up at him. He’s way taller than me. “Your brothermadeyou, you say? You don’t strike me as a man who others can boss around. Except perhaps when those others are your father.”

He growls. “Go home, Rosa.” When I don’t move, he adds: “Trust me, the last thing I want is to fuck some university slut. I’ve got enough problems at the moment.”

“Like an angry fiancée?” I ask indignantly.

He glances at my hand. “Speaking of which, where’s your ring?”

“Where’s yours?” I shoot right back.

“Next time I see you, I want to see that ring on your hand,” he orders me.

“Why?” I say. “You don’t want to marry me anyway.”

“That’s true, but since I have to, you’ll wear the ring,” he insists. “You’re my property now, and I want to make sure the world knows it.”

“I’m no one’s property,” I tell him. “And I’ll never wear the ring if you keep up that attitude.”

He doesn’t answer.

I decide to go in for the kill. “Also, if you don’t want to be here, why did you broadcast the party on your Snapchat like you were having the most fun in the world? Couldn’t resist sharing what a great life you have? Hanging out with all these topless chicks?”

“Out of habit,” he replies. “You get used to sharing what you’re doing. You know what social media is like…”

“Are you going to delete me from your Snapchat, too, now?” I ask. “Just like you deleted all your stories?”

“No,” he answers. “Now go, Rosa. I’m serious. I won’t ask again.”

I stare him down a moment longer, then turn around in a huff.

“Let’s go,” I tell Michela. “Wear your ring, too!” I shout over my shoulder.

I stalk through the patio door, shoving aside a girl along the way, making her spill her drink.

“Hey Bitch!” the girl says to me.

She takes an aggressive step toward me, like she plans to start pulling my hair or something, but when she sees Fabio looming behind me, she freezes. I didn’t even know he was following me.

Fear twists the girl’s face, but then it’s replaced with… glee?

“Hey Fabio!” she gushes.

He ignores her and continues escorting me through the house.

“One of your fans?” I ask him.

He doesn’t answer. I notice he’s still a little unsteady on his feet. I wonder how much he’s had to drink.

As I’m wading through the crowd, I give some other partygoers a shove for good measure. Some laugh it off, others turn around angrily. The latter are always disarmed when they see Fabio. If it’s a woman, I’ll usually have to suffer through the “Hey Fabio!” crap. Thankfully he doesn’t answer any of them.

“Just how many women here does he know?” Michela asks.

“I have a feeling he more than justknowsthem,” I answer. “They’re probably his conquests.”

“Oh,” Michela says.

I reach the front door. There are a couple of cop cars in front now, and I see Nunzio arguing with them while holding a damp cloth to his slashed cheek. When he looks at us and spots Fabio behind me, for a moment I’m worried he’s going to rat out Fabio—worried for Nunzio’s safety that is, not Fabio’s. But Nunzio wisely looks away and keeps his mouth shut.

On the street I mount my Vespa and Michela gets on behind me.