Page 52 of Psycho

Her bottom lip quivers as more tears fall from her eyes. I know what it was like for my brother and Bella to lose a child, so this time her tears don’t do anything for me. I don’t like it, and wish for a moment to be the kind of man that could make things better for her, but I’m not.

“My ex-husband, Carlo, killed him in front of me, to teach me a lesson in obedience.”

I place a bandage on her foot, covering the three cuts, and lift her off the counter.

“Was the child not his?”

To me, the question makes perfect sense: what kind of a man would kill his flesh and blood? For her, it doesn’t, and she gets angry all over again.

“Of course Michael was his, you asshole.”

Normally, I’d scold her for calling me names, but not right now, because I want to keep her talking. Suddenly, I want to know everything there is to know about her life.

“How old was he?”

“Three,” she answers, as my head spins. He murdered a goddamn toddler? Because she was disobedient? I make a mental note to find this guy, and kill him. What kind of a piece of shit does this, to not only a child, but his own child?

“He hit you, didn’t he?”

She nods, with a laugh that doesn’t reach her eyes. Then she shakes her head no, as if taking it back.

“No, he didn’t hit me, Massimo. He attacked me, brutally, as often as he could.”

I stroke my fingers down her arm, and she lets me.

“I’m sorry. He won’t be serving out his prison time. I’ll take care of him.”

She shakes her head, and rolls her eyes at me.

“Always with the violence.”

I smirk at her. “Always.”

Anastasia may think, since he’s in prison, that I can’t get to him, but she’d be wrong. I’ll have to call in favors, but it’s not a problem. Not by a long shot.

I grab the robe hanging in the bathroom, and help her into it.

“What’s on my back?”

I pull out my phone, and show her the picture I took, after I finished last night, and show it to her. She stares at the knife covering her lower back with my name on it.

“I have a knife on my back permanently. And knives in my nipples. This is unbelievable, Massimo.”

Flashing her a grin, I say, “Don’t forget the knife in your sweet pussy.”

I bend down and scoop her into my arms, and she puts her arms around my neck.

“What are you doing?”

Arching a brow at her, I sigh heavily.

“You have cuts on your foot. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

She buries her face into my chest, and laughs maniacally.

“Nobody causes more pain than you, and you’re worried about a little cut on my foot?”

“Even Carlo?” I ask, as we head upstairs.

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