Page 134 of He Should Be Mine

“In fact, why don’t we let Dario see everything?” he all but hisses.

“I don’t…” I start to say, but Riccardo’s face flushes an ugly red.

“I don’t care what you think! I can do what I like. This is my apartment! You are my soldato! And this is my whore!”

He pulls Molly roughly towards him. Molly stumbles. Riccardo shoves Molly down, bending him over the breakfast bar.

Just like I have dreamed of doing a thousand times.

Riccardo pulls Molly’s dress up, baring his pale ass. He steps in close.

I have the perfect profile view, and I’m not allowed to leave. I can see Molly’s torso pressed against the counter. I can see his face turned to the side, facing me. Held in place by Riccardo’s tight grip in his hair.

Molly’s eyes are closed. But I can see his fear.

It hits me like a sucker punch. It knocks all of the wind from me. It obliterates my consciousness.

Because I can finally see the truth. All of it.

Molly is not scared because Riccardo is being rough. Or because I am watching.

Molly is simply scared of having to do this with Riccardo.

All this time, I stupidly thought Molly was a professional. Even though I knew he was a frightened little sweetie under the brat act. I knew he was scared of the dark. I knew he tried so hard to get my coffee right. I knew he wore comfy pajamas.

I knew, and I was still an idiot.

I assumed he didn’t like sleeping with Riccardo. But I thought Molly was good at his chosen trade. I took it for granted that he sent his mind far away. That it was water off a duck’s back.

A memory consumes me, violent in its intensity.

This very fucking living room. Me telling Molly he was an ungrateful brat because all he has to do is spread his legs. Molly flying into a rage and destroying the apartment.

It’s so perfectly clear now.

Molly never did lie back and think of England. He didn’t switch his emotions off and send them far away.

His heart is far too big for that. He is far too soft to be ruthless. I don’t think his trade was ever chosen. At least not by him.

He bore it because someone at some point in his life taught him he had to. And nobody ever showed him that things could be different, and maybe for Molly, a boy with nothing and no one, they couldn’t be.

But that doesn’t mean he ever enjoyed selling his body.

No, the sickening, horrifying truth is screaming at me and clawing at my soul.

Molly was always scared.

Every time Riccardo fucked him and I tried not to listen, Molly was on the other side of the wall, scared.

And I allowed it to happen.

I get to my feet. I stride the three steps up to Molly. I pull Riccardo off of him and throw my capo against the wall. He hits it hard enough to make him grunt. The plaster cracks.

Riccardo stares at me in slack-jawed astonishment.

I pull out my gun and click the safety off. The barrel presses against Riccardo’s forehead. Right in the middle. He goes crossed eyed trying to look at it. It is almost funny.

I take a breath. Ready to say what needs to be said.