Page 280 of Sinfully Savage Mafia

Case in point, I’m sitting on a couch in my captor’s office awaiting a sentence of his choosing because Sticky Fingers Amante couldn’t get a real goddamn job!

“I’m sorry your brother put you in this situation,” he grumbles.

“And I’m sorry you’re such a fucking insolent and controlling asshole who assaulted me, drugged me, and dragged me away from something that actually needed my help! Did you even care that I was trying to save that stray dog? Was it even a thought? She needed me, but did you care, you selfish bastard?” I know I’m rambling now, but I can’t stop the anger flowing out of me.

I wished to have my mother’s arms around me, but I’m convinced that when I found Bella, I had a little piece of Mama in my grasp before they tore it away from me.

I drag my hands down the front of my face, sniffling loudly. I’m crumbling like a freaking house of cards right now and I don’t really think I can stop it.

Maybe it’s a good thing. Maybe he’ll think I’m completely nuts and let me go because keeping me would be more trouble than it’s worth.

Since nuts are prone to cracking.

Roman’s jaw tightens and his fists clench tight at his sides.

“Are you going to hit me now?” I hiss. “Haven’t you done enough to me already?”

In a flash, his fist whips past me and crashes against the wall, putting a dent in the sheetrock.

My mouth drops open. “You’re a sick bastard.”

He turns his fiery glare at me, his eyes shooting white flames. “I didn’t hit you, did I?’

“You’ve clearly got a lot of pent-up rage,” I mutter.

“Who says it’s pent-up?” he growls, shaking out his hand. The impact must have done some damage, although he doesn’t give any indication that he’s in pain.

I guess he’s just so used to causing it thatfeelingit doesn’t quite register.

“Lucky guess.” I narrow my eyes at him. “Tough guy got taken, so now he needs to prove he still has a dick swinging between his legs, right?”

When he launches himself at me, I am completely caught off-guard.

“Don’t make assumptions, Chella,” he snarls, yanking my ponytail so that my head is tilted toward his, giving him the upper hand. “You don’t know shit about me anymore. And you don’t have the right to judge what you don’t understand.”

“What I understand,” I sputter. “Is that you have no regard for anything but yourself and your reputation. That’s why I’m here. And that’s why you’re gonna snatch Frankie. You need to make examples of us to show your thug peons what happens when the great Roman Villani gets a dose of his own medicine. Tell me,” I seethe through clenched teeth. “How many times did you pull a scam on someone you worked for to get ahead, huh? How many times did you fuck over someone else to get yours?”

He pulls my head back farther, his lips hovering over mine. “How many times isn’t the question you should be asking.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, then, enlighten me. What’s the right question?”

“The right question is did I ever get caught? And the answer…” he says in a low, gruff voice. “Isno.”

I swallow hard. His forehead is pressed against mine, his powerful body plastered against mine as the heat in his gaze snakes through my insides, charging me up like I’ve just stuck my finger into an electrical socket.

“Do you know why?” he continues, his eyes shooting white hot flames. They’re dark and clouded now, filled with a twisted mix of emotion that I can’t even begin to process.

I grit my teeth, not backing away. Fuck him if he thinks I’ll cower!

“Because I was?—”

“Boss!” A deep male voice calls out from the other side of the door. “They’re here.”

Roman hovers over me for a few final seconds, his nostrils flared. It’s almost like we’re playing a twisted game of Chicken.

“I don’t give a damn why, by the way,” I hiss. “You might be great at your job, but you’re a piece-of-shit mobster who has zero decency or morals.”

“I don’t need either,” he seethes. “Because I have something more valuable. Power.”

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