Page 14 of Souls and Sorrows

One of the metal doors at the far end of the large auditorium creaks open, and my spine goes rigid, my fingers curling over the barre. Seconds later, it slams shut, and my spine tightens as the sound of closure echoes against the ceiling.

My throat runs dry as footsteps approach.

“What the fuck have you done?” His voice is low. Dangerous. He crosses over to me slowly, each thud of his Italian loafers loud in the amplified space.

I swallow, searching the back of my tongue for words. “How did you find me?”

He ignores my question, the same as I did his. Silence bears down on my shoulders, pushing desperately.

Sighing, I turn my head slightly, catching his muscular silhouette in my peripheral. Black hair, streaked with early gray, hangs over his forehead, indicating that he’s glaring down at me, though he remains quiet.

I try another tactic. “Are you referring to the warm hospitality your parents showed me last night, or something else?”

He scoffs, and the scent of hickory and tobacco surrounds me as his shadow falls over my form, enveloping me in its darkness. “I knew you were a slut before I met you, but I didn’t know you were this bad. How were they,puttana? Did they give as good as me before you killed them?”

Disbelief burns behind my eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but for what it’s worth, they were both better. You could really learn a thing or two from Fiero and Cosetta.”

Suddenly, his hand tangles in my hair, pitching me forward and shoving my face against the wall with a metal rail bolted to it.

My mouth falls open, a retort scraping against my teeth.

“Thepoint,” Vitus says, his tone dark, “is that you’re a jealous littlebitch, and I’m sick of your shit.”

“Well, I’m sick of yours too.”

He pulls my head back, slamming it into the plaster, and pain explodes along my jaw.

“Do you know how embarrassing this is? A dozen of my men saw photos of you online, showing up at my parents’ house late last night and then sneaking out in the morning, in that tiny red dress. The dress Itoldyou not to wear.”

Is that what he cares about? The dress?

Not about his parents?

“Do you not think it’s embarrassing for me to get messages you meant to send to your mistress?” My heel drives into his shin, and he grunts, gripping harder. “Besides, you’re notmyfather.”

“Good thing,” he mutters, toying with the waistband of my leggings. “I think I’d kill myself if I had such a fuckup for a daughter.”

“As if you could ever keep it up long enough to make a kid.”

Blood spurts in my mouth, one of my molars loosening as he knocks my face into the window again. And again. Andagain. Nausea rolls around my stomach in a hot ball, and when he finally stops, I let out a hollow laugh, spitting some of the coppery liquid onto the floor.

“What’s wrong, Vitus? You seem angrier than usual. Was she not very good in bed?”

“She’s had less practice than some people.”

I spit more blood out, and this time, it splatters against his shoes, staining the gray suede.

The hand in my hair tightens, yanking me back against his chest. His other arm reaches for my ankle, lifting so it rests on the railing, and he bends it forward, slipping my foot between the metal and the wall. I suck in a sharp breath when he pulls, my knee catching on the surface as he tries to disconnect it from my calf, sending spirals of agony through the entire limb.

My palms paw at the paint, trying to gain purchase, and he presses moist lips to my ear.

“Where are they, Ariana? What did you do with my mother and father?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I snap, something hot and fiery sparking within me.

“Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” He pulls harder, tighter, and my bone feels like it might actually break in two. “Your papà’s a liar, and your mamma’s a whore. I don’t know why I’m so surprised.”

“Don’t talk about them like you know them.”

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