57: Break Up, Make Up

Marco's POV 

‘Time's up, bitches!’ 

“You. You. You.”

I pointed at Ramson's staff, one at a time, my eyes as red as a wounded bull, fingers almost sticking in their faces, and my voice deep with a thick slice of poison. 

“No more going through his galleries. Stick to his call logs.”

They gulped dryly in fear and nodded, eyes pinned to my fierce statue. 

“And if any fucking photo leaks…” I let out a dark chuckle. “There'd be no pieces of your body left to bury. Not even your loved ones will be spared.”

Again, they nodded firmly, too terrified to say a word in argument or defense. 

With that, I turned to leave, nurturing the darkest thoughts for Kaid. I'd peel his sacs like onions and dice his testicle. 

The fuck he was playing with?! 

“Mr. Conti.” 

Ramson rushed behind me. When I stopped, he almost bumped into me. 

My stern face was all that he needed to speak. I barely had any time left to mess around. 

“Uh…” He pushed his lens back to his eyes. “I think that it's a bad idea to go now.”

“Hmm.” My tone was indifferent. “Because?” 

“Uh, he may escape or…” 

“Shut the fuck up, Ramson.” I groaned, nose flared in rage. “Who the fuck are you to stick your nose in my business?” 

He bowed an apology. 

“You're paid, heavily,” I added emphasis. “Stick to the job that wipes your ass and don't try to play smartpant investigator with me.”

The room fell silent. 

My vileness could be felt in every corner of the room. 

Turning to leave again, I walked to the heavy black door. One of the staff rushed up to open it for me. Holding on for a minute, I dropped a last warning. 

“If he makes any silly move and you're one second late,” the soft pause was for Ramson to get the consequences of any negligence. He'd relay it to his boys. “Your surgeon would be that second late to save you.”

Slam.

The door shut and I walked off. 

In the car, I started it and resumed the ride home. It was about an hour away. I hoped I wouldn't get anyone killed before I arrived.

“Kaid?” 

I spoke up once he picked up his phone at the first dial. Submissive soldier indeed. 

“I need you to help me with a file right now.”

There was a moment of awkward silence. 

“Are you home?” 

“I'd be in a few minutes, Don.” 

I chuckled lightly, plotting his downfall with each ticking second. 

“You'd better.”

Tapping on my sensor, I ended the call. With two hands on the wheel, I fired like a lunatic, almost brushing cars and humans likewise off the road. 

As for Sofia, I'd let her know how humiliating it was to drag the family name in the mud. 

‘Are you any different?’ 

My mind mocked me. I remembered Sofia taunting Elara and labeling her a whore… a name I fostered. 

But Elara was different. Well, at least she had good parents. 

Fuck it. The mind trick wasn't working. 

After what seemed like ages on the road, I drove down the granite pathway to the large private garage and pulled over. 

“Get me Kaid.” 

I randomly ordered a guard and tossed the other the car key. 

“He isn't around, Don.” 

He nodded and stepped aside. 

“Don…”

“Out.” I shushed Francesca and jogged the flight of stairs to my room. 

I needed to get dressed, get all my instruments ready,, and wait for the bastard. 

My shadow cast on the white polished floor as I walked down the well-illuminated corridor. With one hand in my pocket, I twisted the knob, and the door gave way. 

The room was empty. 

‘Breathe, Marco… Breathe.” 

Striding to the bathroom, I opened it even though there was no sign of anyone in there. 

Still empty. 

What was I expecting?

Jaws clenched in anger, I walked out of the room, hoping that Elara hadn't defiled my orders again. It was hard staying sane with her, and even harder making more rules when she'd only stump it in your face like trash. 

On the next floor, where her baby's room was, I got to the door and opened it. 

Again, I met emptiness. 

This time, there were no signs of her giggling or her baby running around with that chubby orange ball. 

It purred. 

Lounging on the child's bed, Birdie's fierce eyes fixed on me. 

Speak about the devil. 

In deadly silence, I walked downstairs. My mind was racing, beating hard against my chest. It was like I'd run wild. 

‘In… out…’ My mind tried poor damage control. 

A few soldato paraded the living room. I signaled for one to get me my drink, and the unfortunate one stepped forward to get the message done. 

He brought a tray of the bottle of liquor, a glass, and a pack of ice cubes. 

I needed to be calm. 

When he finished he handed me the glass. I took a sip, battling an outburst. My hand clenched tight to the glass, veins popped out, breathing hardened. 

“Where is my lady?” 

He bowed slightly. “She went out with…”

SMACK!!!

My knuckles crashed against his face. I could swear I heard my bones snap and his jaws distorted. 

Trained in service, he held the tray tightly, taking out his pain on it, not daring to dash my drink. 

“Y'all let her out, huh?” 

Crash!

I swung the glass carelessly at the far end. It smacked the doorframe, and the glass pieces pierced the soldati by the door. 

A brown liquid stained the white wall, the strong scent of the spirit evaporated, and the broken pieces settled in a messy heap. 

“If in ten minutes, I don't see them…”

The door opened. 

Elara was in view. Immediately, she sensed chaos; she tapped her baby's head, shielding her from the madness. If only she stayed out of trouble like that. 

My dark eyes laid on her, boring into her soul in rage. A sneer crept the side of my lips. 

This time, I'd not be merciful. 

Instead of a scared lady, I saw a flicker of something different, like a burning rage. 

Her face bore horror too. 

It made my heart drop and increased my anxiety. 

Did something happen?

She walked to the base of the steps and stopped to face me. “Upstairs.”

What. The. Fuck?!

“Lady…”

“Now.” She interrupted me with a stern tone. 

I waited for her to disappear and looked at the men, my safe space to dish out my frustration. 

“Fuck off. Every one of you.” 

When I joined her upstairs, she was now in a furious state. Her bag was on the bed, opened too. She threw her items out of the dresser and wardrobe and every other place. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” I paused by the door, hands deep in my pockets. “This dramatic when you should be on your knees?”

“If going on my knees means biting your fucking dick, I would!” 

She threw items on the bed and some landed on the floor with a clatter. 

“What are you doing, Lady?” I asked again, tone unwavering. 

She stopped and scoffed. “For a second, I thought you were this sane.” She demonstrated, her fingers made a pinch sign. “What did you do to Matthew?” 

I shrugged, unbothered. 

“He fucked with you.” 

“It was not your fucking fight!” 

She yelled, smashing perfume bottles on the ground. My house was a mess. First, downstairs, and now, my safe space. 

“So what now, huh? Blaming me for getting rid of a pussy? I'm doing the world a favor.” 

“Nah.” She shook her head. “You butchered…” she stopped, fighting a gag. “You're sick. Marco, you need help.”

I sighed. 

All my days, I've heard that shit. But hearing it from her made me bitter. 

She continued her packing. 

Helpless, I watched her small frame dance about in annoyance and grief. 

I didn't want her to go… Not like this. 

I mean, it wasn't safe out there for her and the child. 

My heart was beating too hard for my sanity. 

Maybe… just maybe I went overboard. I could have just delivered his head or fingers. Argh! 

Oddly, she stopped abruptly. 

When she turned to face me, her eyes were burning, teary even. 

She marched towards me like a monster and stopped in front of me, my huge frame didn't even scare her. 

“What happened to Nathaniel?” 

I sucked my teeth and chose silence. 

“Swear on your mother's grave that you did nothing to him.”

“Watch it…”

“Speak!” 

Her tone trailed off, hair tossed in the wind like a fresh demon from hell. 

When I didn't, she choked on a laugh, getting all the response she needed. 

She gasped. Even though she suspected, the news hit her hard. She pressed her fingers to her head as if shielding her brain. 

“You. Are.” She poked my chest with her fingers, counting each word. “Pathetic. A cursed prick.”

“Elara…”

“Don't you dare.” She scowled. “You'll stay out of my life and my child's.” 

I hunched, crushing into her space, face almost kissing hers. “You're in mine, don't you think?” 

SMACK!

I wasn't expecting violence. 

The spot she slapped stung, sending ecstatic ripples throughout my body. It felt good… like the relief I needed. Not the damn alcohol. 

“Do it again.” 

Her eyes widened. She shook her head in disbelief and took two steps backward. 

“I'm leaving, and filing a restraining order. You're unbelievable.” 

She pushed me to the side, and I almost tripped down. Forcing past the small space by the door, she dashed out, running with all her might. 

I didn't run. 

Ready for business, I doubled my pace, following her scent, her pounding footsteps on the hard floor… her panic. 

She ran downstairs, leaving her child's room. It was unlike her. When I got downstairs, the staff had fled out, and there she was, small and fierce, having a knife pointed in my direction. 

The sharp blade glistened and her hands clutched tightly. 

“Either one of us dies.” Her bitter promise broke me.