Page 97 of Dirty Mafia Sinner

Carmine nods vigorously.

Alessandro pulls out his wallet and tosses a wad of money onto the table. “For the food and hospital bills. When we meet next time, I’ll bring a suitcase with the reward money. The deal’s still on. Find that motherfucker.”

Alessandro curls his fingers around my biceps and hauls me out of the restaurant.

“You shot them.”

He fastens my seat belt, then rounds the car and climbs in.

“Clean shots. They’ll be out of the hospital in no time. They should be thankful they’re alive.”

“But did you have to cut his tongue?”

His eyebrows pinch in annoyance at my shaky tone. Like my fear upsets him … like his brutality is justified. “He’ll think twice about running it now.”

“How can you be so cavalier?”

“It’s what monsters do.”

I flinch.

He leans toward me, and I immediately sink back in the seat. With a vicious tug, he rips my gown wide open. My breasts spill out, but I don’t dare cover them. Not with him wound tighter than a spring inside a loaded shotgun.

The Maserati purrs to life and he accelerates out of the parking lot like a madman.

With a cry, I tumble back in the seat.

“Keep pushing me with those hurt-filled looks. It’s not like I took a knife to you, though fuck knows I should have a long time ago.”

I shrink away, even though I recognize what’s become a pattern of idle threats.

“What? Did you anticipate a fun night out?” he grinds out. “You think Alessandro Beneventi gets to do fun nights out?” He slams his palm against the steering wheel. “I’m only a pawn in a bigger game, baby. It’s play or pay. And if you think what happened back there was horrifying, my father’s payment for the insults would be ten times more brutal.”

He falls silent.

And I don’t utter a word, but Tommaso’s admission plays on repeat in my mind.Alessandro’s more trapped than any of us.

Maybe I have it wrong.

Maybe he doesn’t enjoy being a heartless monster.

Maybe this is the “play” his father expects from him?

“I want to hear you say it,” he growls. “I hate you, Alessandro.”

“What?” I cry out.

“You need a hearing aid? Say it. I hate you, Alessandro.”

I press my lips together, refusing to give in. Yes, I’ve thought it before—whispered it in my mind, chanting it, when he was spanking those bullies—but I didn’t mean it. How could I? Anyone would snap under the pressure he’s put me through. But now, even with everything he’s done, with the promise of an easier life if I just give him the words he craves, I can’t summon a hatred that isn’t there.

He tilts his head, a dark smirk playing on his lips. “Disobey me?” he sneers. “Seems like I’ve neglected you.”

And then I feel it. The vibrator’s sudden quake.

No. No. No. This issowrong.Socruel. Why now, with so much anger behind it?

I will my body not to respond, and he amps up the vibrations. “Say it, and I’ll stop.”