Page 4 of Tormented Diamonds
“Gianni,” I whisper, fear creeping into my voice. “What are you doing?”
“Giving you a glimpse into my world, Dr. Brennan.Yournew world.” He pumps his gun in and out of me slowly, his breath growing heavier and more labored with every thrust. “If you’re going to survive it, then you have to trust me, even when I have your life in my hands.” His voice drops almost to a growl as his cock hardens against my ass. “One wrong move could end it all. So what are you going to do, Becca … pull away, or trust me to not pull the trigger?”
He’s not just talking about the gun, and we both know it.
It’s one hundred percent certifiable for me to lie here and let this man fuck me with a loaded gun, but I’m not sure sanity is part of the equation anymore. This dirty, insanely dangerous act of his calls to the darkest, most depraved part of me.
He wants to know if I’m brave enough to join the most vulnerable part of me with the most violent part of him. Is it sick? Probably, but not enough to stop it.
I give him my sultriest look. “What are you waiting for?”
His eyes flash, the demons behind them flaring to life. He leans closer, his lips dusting my cheek before I feel them spread in a wide smile. “Scream for me.”
Then, once again, he sinks his teeth deep into my shoulder, and the monster I accused him of being emerges, fucking me with a loaded gun until I shatter into a million pieces.
Chapter Two
BECCA
When I was a little girl, I used to daydream about my wedding day. Unfortunately, growing up with a father consumed by grief and guilt didn’t provide for the healthiest outlook on men, so I created a fairy tale image of one. I spent my childhood believing a hero prince would whisk me away, then profess his undying love before asking me to marry him.
Not once, in any of my fantasies, was it to prevent me from being murdered by the mob.
“Becca?”
I know who it is. I’ve felt him hovering ever since Anton left me standing in the foyer. While I’m sure his concern is more about me being a flight risk than my well-being, his presence is strangely comforting, in a weird, hawk-guarding-its-prey kind of way.
“Owen,” I say, keeping my stare pinned on the closed doors in front of me. “Shouldn’t you be inside standing next toyour bestie?”
I see him move beside me out of the corner of my eye. “I’m not Gianni’s best man. No one is. He requested it be just the two of you.”
“How progressive of him.”
“Look, I know how you must be feeling…”
“Why does everyone keep saying that?” My grip tightens on the bouquet of white gardenias someone shoved in my hand.My mother’s favorite.“Is that the winning catchphrase you all voted to use? Because unless you were forced to sell your soul to save your life, then no, you don’t know a damn thing about how I’m feeling. None of you do.”
He sighs. “You’re a smart woman, Becca, but you don’t know everything.”
I snap my head to the side. “What are you saying?”
He shuffles his feet, his fancy gray suit doing nothing to hide his stiffening frame. “I’m saying that, like you, I saw the world in black and white. There were good guys and bad guys, and the two never crossed. I believed in that so strongly it blinded me.”
“You don’t have to tell me?—”
“Because the truth is reality isn’t like that,” he finishes. “Heroes can be monsters just as easily as monsters can be heroes.” A tortured look settles across his face like life’s fourth wall just broke. “You can’t paint everyone with the same pious brush. Nobody believes they’d choose to sell their soul until it’s the only choice they have left.”
I stare at the flowers in my hand, frowning at his blunt words and the uncomfortable truth that’s burning holes in my self-righteous shield. I’m so used to putting people in boxes I didn’t notice I’d put myself in one as well. Only, I placed mine on a shelf it had no business being on. It seems Owendid the same.
“I’m sorry about Henry,” I say, softly. Not because he’s dead, but because of what his death represents. I don’t know the details and don’t care to, but from what I gather, Owen considered him a trusted friend, and betrayal from a friend is the deepest cut.
“Ditto.” The regret in his voice draws my head up, and I meet his eyes, bracing myself for the pity I expect to find. Instead, I’m met with warmth and something that looks a lot like respect … and then utter confusion. “Jesus, Becca, what happened?”
I follow his line of sight to my shoulder and the darkening imprint of Gianni’s teeth.
“Nothing.” I clear my throat, forcing as much nonchalant inflection into my voice as possible. “I fell.”
“Into someone’s mouth?”
