Page 49 of His Queen

“But he didn’t. He barely fucking touched you.”

“Because Nicoli stopped him!”

“Nicoli had no right!” he growls, his hard tenor cutting through me like glass.

“I’m his wife. He had every right.”

“Now that’s where our problem comes in. The night he killed Felix, you weren’t his wife. Were you?”

I can hardly swallow, my throat instantly turning to sandpaper.

“I knew the Del Rossas were full of shit,” he continues. “Something just didn’t add up. Up until that night, you and Nicoli were never seen together. No one knew you were together. But after he killed Felix, your faces were fucking everywhere. You were suddenly the golden couple of the fucking city.” He takes another drag of his cigarette and exhales through his nostrils like a bull ready to charge.

“Check our marriage license,” I say. “The date is on there.”

“That marriage license isn’t worth the paper I wipe my ass with, sweetheart.”

I bite the inside of my mouth, the metallic taste of my blood spreading along my tongue.

“Let me go.”

“Unfortunately, that’s not an option right now.” The way he drags his gaze down my body sends chills down my spine. He licks his lips as if he can already taste me, and it sends a bout of nausea through my stomach. “But I’m pretty sure Nicoli isn’t complaining about having you as a wife, laying claim over that body of yours.”

“Stop,” I bite out.

His dark eyes flash. “Oh, birdie. ‘Stop’ and ‘no’ are two words you should never say to a man like me.”

My eyes rapidly scan the dimly lit room. The walls are painted an off-white shade that casts a muted light across the room. Other than the mattress I’m huddled up on, and a bucket in the corner, the room is empty. There are no windows, and the only source of light is the single bulb hanging from the ceiling. Shadows seem to creep in from every corner, giving everything an uneasy feeling.

“There’s no way out, birdie,” he warns. “So don’t even waste your time trying.”

“Nicoli will find me,” I say shakily.

“Oh, I have no doubt he will.” He steps closer until he’s looming over me menacingly. The scent of alcohol coming off his breath is disgusting, making my stomach turn. “But in what condition will he find you? That’s the question.”

Fear explodes in my chest, adrenaline bursting through my system as he reaches out, but I jerk away, swatting at his hand. “Don’t fucking touch me,” I hiss.

Nunzio’s nostrils flare, then he grabs my face, his fingers pressing painfully in my jaw. “You are mine now, birdie. I will fucking touch you when I want to.”

“No! Let go of me,” I yell, frantically hitting at him, clawing at him, wanting to break his skin. His arms are everywhere, and it’s like his body doubled in size as I try to fight him. “Don’t fucking touch me!”

“I love it when they fight,” he growls with a menacing laugh.

My breaths are panicked bursts of air, and my bones violent as I try to get away from him, his hands burning my skin like branding irons.

I try to scurry away, jerking my legs to the side, but Nunzio grabs the back of my neck, fingers digging painfully into my skin as he yanks me back and slams me into the mattress, air exploding from my lungs. His hand is around my throat as he pins me down with so much force, I’m sure my back will break.

“I wasn’t planning on doing this today,” he spits out, his lips pulled back as he keeps me down. “But your fight has my dick real fucking hard. Now is as good a time as any,” he sneers, his vile breath slithering down my cheek, and I’m thrashing, kicking, desperate to get free. But he only squeezes harder until I’m no longer able to breathe. My hands are on his wrists, scratching and clawing, needing him to let go so I can get air in my lungs. But he doesn’t let go, not even a little bit, and the lack of oxygen robs me of strength.

He drags a finger down the side of my face, his leering gaze following the movement until it stops at my mouth, his thumb pressing hard against my bottom lip, and I tighten my grip around his wrist.

“You’re a beautiful woman, birdie. Men just have to look at you, and their control shatters.”

I want to scream. But I can’t. He’s choking me so hard. It’s as if my tongue is swollen inside my mouth, my throat burning. But my body doesn’t give up, my hips lifting off the mattress, legs kicking and my mind screaming.

“Grab her legs!” he yells, and my eyes shut, hot tears streaming down.

Please, God. No. This can’t be happening.

---