She might have left

CHAPTER 4

VINCENZO.

My eyes widened in disbelief as her hands flew to my cheek.

I blinked rapidly, trying to process what had just happened.

No woman had ever dared to stand up to me, let alone get courage to slap me like that.

I turned to my favorite plaything. "You can leave now."

She quickly picked up her panties and hurried out.

"I see you enjoy mixing love with violence," I said, attempting to downplay her actions. The only reason she was still able to breathe in front of me was that I don’t hit women.

"Misogynist monster!" she sneered. "How could you make me watch that lewd display?"

"You wanted the money, so you'll have to learn how to play the game," I replied.

Her nostrils flared as she snapped back, "I quit then. I'm no longer interested. I'm leaving!"

I swiftly moved my hand to the wall, intentionally blocking her path. "You want to leave? You clearly didn’t read the contract my janitor gave you."

"You won't leave my estate until the deal is done. Your mother will continue receiving the best treatment as long as you fulfill your side of the bargain."

Her eyes began to glisten with tears, and she questioned, "What? Are you going to keep me here, away from my friends and family?"

"I know you're the devil!" she spat.

I chuckled darkly. "Is that how you see me?"

"Yes!" she shot back, stepping closer with newfound confidence. "You're just a manipulative maniac!"

I clenched my fists, gritting my teeth. She was really starting to irritate me. How dare she call me the devil? I had saved her from the monster who had treated her so poorly.

He had frozen her cards and nearly ruined her mother's hospital payments at a critical time, yet she still thought I was the villain, all because I wanted her.

"Let me go!" she sobbed. "I am not your prisoner, you psycho!"

"What do you want from me?" 

"I want you willingly!" I shouted, startling her. Instantly, I regretted raising my voice.

At that moment, she looked so fragile. I turned my back, quickly dressing before calling one of the maids to escort her back to her room.

I didn’t want her to feel like a prisoner. I revel in being dominant, but only when a woman gives herself to me willingly. Many might label me a sadist, but in truth, I'm a dominant who loves when they submit to me to please me.

.

.

Thirty minutes passed, yet her presence lingered in my thoughts. I still couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that she had slapped me last night.

None of my girls have ever slapped me before. I caressed my beard, recalling how she had jerked off the chair and lunged at me. 

I usually thought I was in control, but feisty girls always turned me on the most.

The following day, I woke at five o'clock in the morning from a terrifying nightmare.  

Heaving a deep sigh, I realized it was just a dream. My chest felt tight, and a bead of sweat trickled down my face.  

Nightmares again. It had been over five years, yet I still experienced vivid dreams about my late fiancée, Alessia.  

Moments later, my door flung open, and Damon, my right-hand man, rushed in.  

I furrowed my brows. “What is it?”  

He glanced around before answering, “We heard you screaming, boss.”  

I sighed, realizing I must have shouted loudly for them to hear me.  

Every night, these nightmares reminded me of my deepest insecurities and traumas, forcing me to confront how I had failed as a man, a boss, and Alessia’s husband.  

“The nightmares again?” Damon asked, joining me on the bed.  

I ran a hand through my hair. “They’ve never left. I just have a coping mechanism.”  

If only I could have had her last night, I thought, maybe I wouldn’t have had any nightmares this morning.  

Damon heaved a deep sigh. “Hopefully, you’ll have a good night’s rest one day.”  

I nodded and waved him to leave. I would only find peace when I had avenged Alessia’s death and watch her killers burn.

I forced myself out of bed and headed to the bathroom for a shower. Afterward, I dressed in my tailored blue Burberry suit. I had an important meeting before six o'clock.  

As I strutted outside and approached my garage, I paused in front of her room.  

Hesitating for a moment, I finally grasped the handle. I wanted to ensure my “guest” was still intact.  

Not that I was afraid she might escape; I knew she couldn’t get away from Vincenzo’s estate.  

I gently pushed the door open, wearing a poker face. My eyes scanned the room, but there was no sign of her.