Page 25 of He Should Be Mine

“Fuck you!” I seethe as I whirl to face him.

The sight of him stuns me. It’s a slap to my face. It is far more explosive than his words. It would melt anyone’s brain.

It’s Dario Bianchi in nothing but navy blue boxer briefs.

“No thanks,” he sneers in disdain.

It takes my poor melted brain cells a moment to decipher what the fuck he is talking about. Then it hits me.The third blow in a row. First, he calls me good boy. Then I see his nearly naked, glorious body. Now he is looking at me in disgust after I said,fuck you.

It’s more than I can take. Far, far more than I can take. I’m a boiling pot and his rejection has hit me like lava.

I stride across the room, now made small by light, and I slam the door in his face with all my might. Something cracks. Was it his nose? He was standing right in the doorway. If the door didn’t hit him, it must have only missed by a hairsbreadth.

Oh fuck.

My heart is smashing against my ribs, fast and frantic. A wild thing trying to escape its impending doom.

What the fuck have I done? Slamming the door in Dario’s face was a stupid thing to do. Even for me, princess of stupid. Queen of not thinking. Empress of never-fucking-learns.

I’m just a whore and whores do not get to disrespect powerful men. And boy oh boy, does Dario meet the very definition of a powerful and dangerous man.

Babysitting me is far, far below his paygrade. I’m smart enough to see that. I think anybody could. The fact of it is as clear and obvious as day.

Rick is testing him. Or proving a point. There is a slim chance that Rick genuinely doesn’t trust anyone else with his secret desire to fuck men. Either way, Dario is not a mere lackey. He is not the muscle.

Rick says his enemies want Dario to be the next Don of the Ajello Family.

And I just slammed a door in his face. And possibly broke his nose.

I can’t breathe. This is the type of situation that warrants terror. This is true danger. Not a dark room. This is the kind of shit that gets you hurt. I have the experience to prove it.

“Sorry!” I manage to squeak out through my tight throat. “Is your nose okay?”

A huff on the other side of the door. An almost-laugh. “My nose is just as ugly as before.”

What is he talking about? He has a lovely nose. It’s very Italian. Exactly the sort of nose a tall, dark, handsome and brooding man should have.

“Get some sleep,” Dario says a little gruffly.

Footsteps sound out. The sound of him leaving. Going back to his room.

He is not angry. He is not going to punish me. He is simply accepting my little temper tantrum with his stoic calm.

I rest my forehead against the door and try to remember how to breathe. A bitter taste floods my mouth. I can’t tell if it’s relief or disappointment.

My lungs stutter in a few breaths. That’s good enough. I push myself away from the door and go and flop on the bed.

For fuck’s sake. What a night.

As I lie here, staring blankly at the ceiling, two little words start to ring in my ears.

Good boy

I frown. After everything that just happened, that’s what my stupid mind wants to fixate on?

Good boy

I sigh and resign myself to my fate.