{GIOVANNI'S POV}**I move. Silent. The door clicks shut behind me.In the mirror, I watch her freeze.Her shoulders tense first. Then her grip on the sink tightens, like she’s bracing for a hit.Slowly, so fucking slowly, she lifts her head. Our eyes meet in the mirror. Her pupils go wide, her throat tightens. What does she fucking know? What is she afraid of? Me? And yet, she doesn’t move.I step closer, watching the shift in her body. It's small movements, but still there. The way her breathing changes, the way her lips part like she wants to say something but the words won’t come.She still doesn't back away. So I move closer still.Her breath catches. She still doesn’t speak.She’s holding herself together, but I can see the tension in her arms, the weight of a thousand unspoken things pressing down on her. And I wonder, just for a second, how far she’s willing to push before I fucking break her to total obedience surrender to me.“Well, well, well,” I say. “I never expected to
{INGRID'S POV}**I really am done with it. I am done with caring. Done with feeling. Done with living like some goddamn pushover. Maybe that punishment will really help in liberating me from this crappy stubbornness of mine and make me a better person that everyone will be satisfied with. Right?I mean, it isn't my fault I grew up to be like this, now is it?To the outside world I am a kid who should listen and be good, but my inside world is a pit of pain and memories of my lonely past. A pit of pain I’ve been breathing through in agonizing little gasps since I was a little girl trying to be good for people around to spear me some food, alms and some money. But now, I feel so fucked up, and used, and twisted with all these looks and words Mr. Giovanni especially throws at me. I've been hurt and is still being hurt by so much of the life I'm still holding dear.Yeah, I am done.And what is with all these? All these family shit, and more secrets. More secrets. The underworld, alcoho
{INGRID'S POV}**I feel him nudge me from behind so I move away from the space close to the door. He steps forward and keys into the lock, opening the door and stepping in ahead of me. I enter. I don't even attempt to shut the door behind me after I enter, only fold my arms like a spoilt kid who is being grounded.He finds the light switch as soon as I'm in after him. He peeks out the door, his eyes checking out the neat little hallway before shutting the door. This is definitely a hotel room. No, more like a condo. But it's... unusual. There's a handmade tapestry of a dolphin breaching beside a boat hangs above the bed, and a photo of pirate colleagues on the deck sits on the kitchen counter. It isn't exactly the kind of decor I'd expect to find in a… sort of hotel condo room. But then again, life is full of surprises, and sometimes the most unexpected places can become the most memorable. So, the lady always in a yellow scarf who fed me on the street for a month before she die
{INGRID'S POV}**“Maybe it’s because nobody will ever love me because of my past. Nobody will ever really touch me, no, not after someone else did. Nobody will ever let me know what it’s like to have a man fall in love with me for all time when my heart beats for someone else who doesn't even care. They wouldn’t, now would they? There's nothing good or lovely about me or my life.”His eyes widen on mine, and I see more than those emotions. Worse than hate or disgust. It's Pity. I see damn pity. It's directed towards me. And I hate that. “You need to get some fucking therapy and work on your self and mind,” he says, his hands still gripping tight on my wrists.“....” God I'm speechless. Really? Therapy?! What does he think of me? A lunatic? I have not lost my mind!He stares at my thighs, and I feel ashamed of them, so fierce in my pain. I have a low waistband on, which I made by myself because I feel bold wearing them, but he barely even notices. His attention is so fixed on my fla
{GIOVANNI’S POV}**I shut the door behind me seeing to it that the slam echoes in both my ears and hers. My hands flex at my sides, my fingers tingling from where they had just been wrapped around her throat.She wanted me to hurt her. She fucking wanted me to hurt her. Punishment, hard sex... anything that would hurt her she wanted it.And for a second…. for one fucked up second, I almost did. I saw it in her eyes, that plea for something more than just words, something deeper, something that would cut through whatever storm was brewing inside her. And I could have given it to her.But I didn’t.I don't break little girls. Or maybe I do, but I don't want to break her. Also, I don’t indulge their self destruction. Not like that. Okay, maybe I do too but if and only if I should find interest in a little girl, which has never happened aside from Ingrid La Rosa. My jaw tightens, and I push the thought away. I move down the dimly lighted hallway. The weight in my chest is a familiar
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