Page 35 of Dark Mafia Heir

I rise to my feet and grab my car key from the table. “Select two guards to watch Vivienne. She must not be left unsupervised.”

I’m about to walk out of the door when Lorenzo’s voice brings me to a halt. “Are you really going to torture her?”

That question makes me feel like I’ve just been hit with a sledgehammer. Swallowing suddenly becomes too hard. “I’ll do whatever I have to.”

But deep down, a part of me knows I’ll never be able to hurt her. And I’ll kill anyone who dares to.

13

Vivienne

Rage. Betray. Confusion.

I’m feeling all of those emotions at once, and the problem is that I have no freaking idea why I feel that way.

I knew what Antonio was before I decided to seduce him. I know he hates me, and all of this is just his perfect plot for revenge, but I think a part of me died when he took those pictures of me last night.

Whatever hope I had that a part of him was human, at least, is long gone. I only have hatred left to offer him now.

Slipping out of bed and sliding my legs into the fluffy slippers next to the bed, I walk to the vanity mirror to tie my hair in a bun. Surprisingly, I no longer feel any pain or burn like I thought I would.

I’m not even bleeding or spotting. I read online that a lot of girls do.

The red hickey around my neck catches my attention when I raise my hair.

It’s so red, like an imprint. A mark to show that I was now fully his and there’s no going back. I’d given him my virginity—it was the only thing I could give to earn his trust, but that wasn’t even enough.

God, I want to hate him so badly. I want to curse him until my tongue dries out, but as I run my finger over the hickey, all I can think of is the way he kissed and fucked me last night. The way my body reacted to each thrust of his cock inside me and the flicker of his tongue on my clitoris.

My scalp prickles with need, the hair at the back of my neck rising on end as I imagine him standing behind me and doing all of those things to me again. My heart starts to race, and heat simmers in my stomach.

Good heavens, I don’t think I’ll be able to get over last night quickly. It’s a memory engraved in the nastiest part of my mind.

But Papa… My God, Harper… I hope she doesn’t see those pictures because she’ll think of the worst of it. She’ll be in so much pain if she thinks I’m being tortured and raped here.

As for my father, I don’t care what he thinks. It’s not like he cares about me that much anyway. I’m probably nothing but tainted goods to him right now. If he does react to those pictures, it will be nothing but a matter of his reputation and ego, and not because he truly cares for me.

I’m so lost in my head that I flinch when someone knocks. I hold my chest and inhale deeply. “Who’s there? Come in!”

The door creaks open, and Agatha’s head pops into the room. With the way she’s standing, someone could think she’s a floating, bodiless head.

“Good morning, Mrs. Mancini,” she says.

I roll my eyes. I’ll never come to terms with that, too. “Just call me Vivienne,” I correct her.

She nods. “Good morning, Vivienne. It’s time for breakfast.”

After last night, I would have to be a beast to have an appetite to sit at the same table with that Italian asshole. I don’t care if I’m starving. I would rather that than share a meal with him. “I’m not hungry.”

“Mr. Mancini?—”

“I don’t care what Mr. Mancini said or what he’ll do. I’m not eating with him.” I force a smile to hide the anger raging in my veins. Agatha did nothing wrong to me, it’s not right for me to direct my anger at her. “Please, tell him I am not hungry.”

She reluctantly nods and leaves the room.

Minutes later, the door swings open, and Antonio marches in. His face is stone cold, his blanker than a white wall. “Come downstairs; you do not get to turn down breakfast,” he says.

I pretend not to hear him and keep staring out the window. A bird perches on a tree miles away, and I watch in amusement as it starts to groom its own wings.

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