Page 32 of He Should Be Mine
And find Riccardo waiting. Sitting on the sofa with a drink in his hand. His cold eyes bore into all the parts of Molly that are touching me.
“Where have you been?” he asks softly, but I’m not fooled by the fake gentleness in his voice.
Molly pulls away from me. He straightens. “Rick!” he beams. “I missed you so much!”
He glides away from me, walking towards Riccardo with far more grace than he was able to muster a moment ago.
“I was missing you so much, I was losing my mind. I needed a drink!”
Riccardo frowns, his eyebrows creasing. “There are drinks here.”
“Not the same!” declares Molly. “I needed the bright lights, the noise. Everything to distract me from thinking about how much I needed you.”
Riccardo pulls his gaze away from Molly to look at me. “You allowed this?”
I open my mouth, but Molly speaks before I can find the right words.
“Dario is a little puppy dog who does what I say. I have him wrapped around my little finger.”
My heart thumps. Molly is trying to save me again. I wish he wouldn’t. I wish he wouldn’t get us into predicaments in the first place, but I especially wish he wouldn’t stick his neck out for me.
Riccardo snarls. He jumps to his feet. He grabs Molly, and for one heart-stopping moment, my arms lift to intervene, but then my brain comes back online and I’m able to override my instincts.
Riccardo shoves Molly face first against the wall. He presses in close and grabs a handful of Molly’s ass cheek in a grip that looks painful.
“This is mine,” Riccardo growls into Molly’s ear.
“I know, Daddy,” Molly says breathlessly. “I don’t give it to anyone else.”
Riccardo spins him around and moves his tattooed hand to Molly’s pale throat.
“That’s what I like to hear, Molly.” He continues to hold Molly against the wall. I can’t see Riccardo’s expression, but I can see the lines of hate and frustration in the set of his shoulders. I can feel echoes of it in my own soul.
He hates Molly. He craves Molly. He is disgusted with himself for being gay and needing Molly. He loathes that simply fucking is not enough. He despises that he hungers to own and possess something as filthy as a boy-whore with a beaming smile.
None of that is Molly’s fault. The boy is simply existing. Bright and dazzling. His authentic self. It’s not his fault he is beautiful, and that dark and dangerous men are drawn to his light. Perhaps because they have no light of their own.
Riccardo draws in a big, shuddering breath. I can only pray that he is calming himself.
“Open up. I’ve got something for you,” he says softly.
Molly obediently opens his mouth and sticks out his pretty pink tongue. Riccardo places a yellow pill on it. Molly grins and swallows it.
Riccardo removes his hand from Molly’s throat and places it on his arm. He begins taking Molly to his bedroom.
My feet move. They step in front of Riccardo and block his path.
“He is really drunk,” I hear myself saying.
Riccardo looks at me like I’m crazy. He seems to be too taken aback to be angry.
“He’s going to be more than drunk in a minute,” he says as he stares at me with a furrowed brow.
I’m not surprised that consent is an alien concept to my capo. He considers Molly bought and paid for. Hisproperty to do with as he pleases. I’d like to think that Riccardo would have a little more care for decency with someone he just met at a bar. But I wouldn’t bet money on it.
Riccardo is glaring at me now. My feet aren’t moving. Even Molly looks confused. Nobody is understanding my objection. I’m not sure I fully comprehend it myself.
“You want to watch?” snarls Riccardo. “Is that your problem?”
