Page 65 of Deal with the Devil
I pride myself on restraint, but with her it seems there’s no such thing.
It isn’t control I feel when I’m around her. It’s a need unlike anything I’ve ever comprehended, so consuming and intense it takes over.
I become a starving man. A ravenous man whomusthave her.
And then I come to my senses and am left fuming and enraged. I’m confronted by the reality that I’m no better thanhim.
He’s supposed to be the one addicted to her; the one obsessed with her.
Yet, somehow, it’s manifested into my consciousness too. It’s become a part of me I can’t escape, and no matter how hard I fight it, I keep giving in.
As I order Portia away and Daniela scrambles to take her back to her bedroom, I’ve lost all trace of composure. I’mdragging ragged breaths into my lungs, my hair disheveled and my pants half undone. My eyes are narrowed and dark behind the devil’s mask, the glare I give them bone-chilling.
The two women trip over their own feet making themselves scarce.
The door slams shut with a resounding thud, and I release roar before I pick up a porcelain vase and fling it at the wall. It shatters into dozens of serrated pieces across the floor. Another mess for Daniela and the others to clean up.
But I don’t give a fuck.
Jamming my fingers through my hair, I pace the large room and urge myself to calm down.
This is unlike me. I’m not the emotional one.
He is.
I’m not the one prone to fits of anger and passion.
That’s always been him.
I’ve always been his better half. His darker half that had to do the things he couldn’t do when the time came for it.
Keeping a cool head has always been my strength. But as I pace the private chambers, dragging a hand through my rumpled dark hair, it feels like cracks are forming.
He’s bleeding through. He’s pushing his way out no matter how hard I fight to keep him in.
I rush from the bedroom into the ensuite, flicking on the light as I stagger to the large mirror.
There he is, staring back at me in the glass. He’s in the same suit, but polished and refined, perfectly put together at a time where I’m a fucking mess.
“You motherfucker!” I rage, jabbing an angry finger at him. “This is your doing, isn’t it? You’re the one setting me up like this! That in there with her? That was all you! That wasn’t me! Get the fuck out of my head!”
He merely stares back at me, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement.
As if I weren’t already on the edge.
More anger swells up inside me and I snatch the ceramic tissue container and smash it into the glass.
His face splits down the middle, the cracked glass spraying everywhere. Several tiny flecks fly at me, nicking my skin, making me bleed.
But I smile anyway from behind the devil’s mask, pleased by the destruction. He’s gone from my sight, and that’s what matters.
He seems to believe he will reemerge as the dominant, but he’s wrong. This time won’t be like the others. I’m in the driver’s seat now. I’m the one who calls the shots and makes the decisions.
Il Diavolo has come out on top.
Now, he’ll have to suffer from the dark recesses like I have for so many years. He won’t have any say in what goes on while I rule the empire I’ve built brick by brick.
I stagger out of the bathroom, determined to pull myself back together. He won’t be throwing me off my game any longer and neither will she. I’m going to run circles around both of them, because that’s what Il Diavolo does.
