Page 55 of Deal with the Devil
“But it was always a losing battle, dolcezza.”
Her hands shake. Her chest rises and falls. She stares at me, pupils dilated wide with a mixture of shock and horror.
The truth has finally hit her, rocking her to the bone.
I let the reality sink in, then offer the final sharp and lethal twist of the blade.
“Because I was never going to let him win.”
She sucks in a small intake of air like she really has been nicked by a blade while I howl in wolfish laughter.
It’s rare that I laugh, but few situations are as amusing as this.
Rafael’s obsession really thought she could escape; she really believed he would swoop in and somehow save the day.
She doesn’t just fail to realizewhoshe’s dealing with, she seems woefully ignorant aboutwhat’sin store for her.
There will be no happy endings to be found here, and it’s best she gets that through her stubborn little head sooner than later. It’ll make it much easier when she meets her fate.
My laughter reverberates through the room, loud and inescapable.
Portia’s eyes mist over as she watches the maniacal laughter boom out of me. She’s truly disturbed, truly horrified by what she’s seeing.
Good.
Let her be terrified.
Let her realize she hasn’t seen true suffering yet. Let her realize the worst is yet to?—
CRACK!
My head explodes in blinding pain. I stumble back several steps, throwing my arms up to shield myself and grab at Portia.
She’s seized hold of the brass lamp on the desk and swung it at my fucking head. She mustered whatever strength she had and swung it with the goal of slipping free. As I stagger back,she’s doing just that, dashing from the spot where I’ve trapped her between the desk and me.
I’m seeing stars. The pain throbs in my skull, bright bursts of light before my eyes. I’m so fucking angry I release a howl and rip off the devil mask.
She hasn’t made it far. Mostly because there’s nowhere else to go—the door is locked and the premises are heavily surveilled by security.
There’s no way she’s getting off the Bellucci estate alive.
But seeing her at the door, grappling with the handle, desperately twisting at the lock, ignites a fresh wave of fury inside me.
Any pain falls by the wayside. Adrenaline floods me instead, pounding in my veins.
My once flashy vision narrows to Portia and only Portia.
I set off toward her, closing the gap between us in a few quick strides. I admit as I charge toward her, fuming with rage, I’m not sure what I’m about to do.
If I’m about to throw my plans out the window and end her here and now. If I’m about to drag her willingly—or not-so-willingly—all the way back to the room inside the villa and lock her away.
Or if I’m going to simply hurt her until dark satisfaction fills me and I decide when to stop.
Frankly, all three options are on the table.
When I reach her, she half turns toward me with a startled, wide-eyed look on her face that’s so genuine and honest it’s captivating on its own.
Maybe it’s that look alone that rewires the chemicals in my brain at the last possible second.
