Italian Psycho

Part 23) Pinkies

As I laid unconscious in gosh knows where, I dreamt of him. But as soon as I came to I couldn't remember anything.

I felt the ropes around my arms, I smelt the dinner beneath my nose, and I could hear his bulky body stumbling around.

All this lead me to enjoy the silence and drift off into sleep for a little longer. I was just a heavy sleeper like that. Until I felt graceful fingers lift my chin up.

His soft warm hand slid underneath my jaw slightly tilting my head forward. I kept my eyes closed remaining in my sleepy state. I didn't want to awake to the horrors of Romeo.

Of course I expected this from him. He was a mob man. And not just a mob man, a don. But some piece of me thought he might be better. Although another piece of me was sure knives were pointed at my pinkies and a noose already hung around my neck.

His lips met mine in a soft but eager kiss. I didn't hesitate to respond. Out of instinct I tried to reach up to touch but was restrained by the rope. Instantly he pulled away.

I finally opened my eyes to find myself at the end of a dinner table. A chair to the right of me sat an unconscious and also restrained Greyson.

The tears threatened to reveal themselves stinging the back of my eyes.

"Greyson." I whispered at him. "Greyson!" I screamed refusing to face Romeo.

Was he dead? Was he hurt? What had Romeo done?!

"Shut up Cecilia." He slammed his fist at the end of the table.

Greyson's head bounced with the force on the long dining table. The room was a deep red and close to empty except for a few expensive pieces of furniture.

I couldn't help but start to scream and uselessly tug at the ropes until my arms were red and irritated.

He just watched me struggle sipping on a glass of wine.

"What?! What do you want? What's the purpose of this?" My hoarse tired voice screamed the best it could.

He paused waiting for me to calm down. "You stopped writing." His voice stayed the same deep tone. It was the calm before the storm.

"No, you did." I argue settling down in my chair.

"Because you told me to." He twirled spaghetti around his fork without even a glance at the plate.

"I never. . ." My voice drifted off trying to make sense of it in my head.

Maybe in Romeo's crazy twisted mind he had come to his own conclusion that I did and he just stopped.

Soon that thought was erased as Romeo pulled a crumpled paper from his jacket.

"What's that?" I asked.

"If you could simply wait Cecilia you would find out. "You're last letter." He continued on to read it.

"Dear Romeo, I have recently discovered that my love wears thin for you. You were never truly mine, but only a distant dream. I have someone else now, who actually loves me. He's a brawny English major sitting on a publishing empire. I am happier than I've ever been. It would be greatly appreciated if you would stop mailing letters to this address. Forever my love to never be, Cecilia." He finishes.

I sit sulking in my chair. Greyson has deceived me. It was obvious he wrote the letter. I still couldn't believe.

"I know you didn't write this Cecilia. That's when I started watching you-

"Watching me!" I shrieked.

"I was worried! Worried that Ali Ahmadi found you! The entire reason we went to Monaco!" He raved.

"Who?" I asked more confused than I ever was before.

"The Persian prick who wants my head on a pike because I overthrew his drug ring and murdered his brother." Evil dripped from his sinful mouth.

I couldn't believe my ears yet at the same time I was so unsurprised. I wanted the other Romeo back. The one who hid his true self and the ugliness of which we were born from.

Romeo stood from his seat at the end of the table.

"I should have never told him about you." I hung my head.

"You broke omertà?!" His temper roared.

"Of course not!" I screamed before he could do anything hasty. "I just talked about us. The real you! As a person." I let my voice drop.

His long legs were at my side with two steps. He crouched down to graze my jaw. His sweet scent intoxicated me at a dangerous level. Oh how I hated to love him.

"Ahh!" I winced with the sting across my face.

The third time Romeo had hit me. It wasn't uncommon for Italians to be violent but after he had tried so hard to refrain it stung even worse. There was no hesitance this time. He was certain when he hit me.

He placed his hands on my body again. This time on my chest dancing down to my stomach. He had dressed me in yellow lingerie.

A tear managed to escape my burning eyes. He grabbed my face firmly licking it away.

"Why did you have to bring him into it?" I tore away from his grip best I could.

"He wrote the letter. He kissed my girl. Tell me Cecilia," His eyes carried a thousand soles peering into me. "Did you fuck him?" It was a genuine question. He was desperately curious.

But he didn't deserve to know. I refused to give him that leverage. That was my life. Possibly the only life I've ever had, and he can't take that away from me.

"Was he better than me? Bigger?" He tried to provoke me.

I pressed my lips together angrily. He frowned so furious his eyes became a dark cloudy color.

"Why shouldn't I kill you?" He grabbed a large knife off of the table.

"Because," I smiled. "I'm a good kisser."

It wasn't perfect but it was enough to calm him down just a little bit and redirect his attention.

"Don't play your little games with me puttana. You owe me an answer." He grinned.

(whore)

"I owe you nothing." I spit.

"Cecilia." He viscously grabbed my face in one hand, large knife in the other. "You have committed adultery mia giovane moglie.

(my young wife)