Page 50 of Brutal Revenge

The orgasm he attempted to stave off races for the finish line when a bead of cum shoots from my left eyebrow to the side of my mouth.

Before my tongue can get close to snaveling some of it up, Matteo scoops away the evidence of his release with his thumb, slings it to the ground, and slumps back on his bike’s seat to fix his zipper into place.

What the?

He doesn’t look at me while nudging his head to the bike. “Let’s go. It’s time for Cinderella to get ready for the ball.”

I’m so snowballed with horniness that it takes several long seconds for me to click on to what he’s not saying. Antonio was collecting a suit for the charity gala he is attending tonight. The same gala I told Matteo we must attend for my plan to have any chance of working.

I hate myself for hesitating, even briefly. This is the plan. It’salwaysbeen the plan, but acting like I sucked his cock purely as payment for his help has me desperate for a shower.

I’ve never felt more dirty… except when I push up from my knees and mount his motorcycle without another word shared between us.

Chapter 13

Matteo

Istand in the doorway of my room as if crossing the threshold is the equivalent of stepping off a steep cliff. One shoulder leans against the frame, and my forehead rests on the wood as I summon the courage to enter World War III without first arming up.

Azra is somewhere inside my room, ignoring me.

She hasn’t spoken to me in hours.

I deserve her silent treatment. Earlier, I was too angry to think rationally. My fury had me doing and saying things before I could stop myself, and now the weight of my stupidity sits on my chest like a ton of bricks.

As I scratch my cropped beard, I stop acting like a pussy and enter my room. The first thing I spot is Azra. The next is a large, shiny black limousine rolling through the main gates of the estate.

I groan when I realize it’s our ride to the gala.

Who the fuck hires a stretch limousine to attend a charity event?

It’s long enough to qualify for its own zip code, glossy enough to reflect every streetlight in the city, and dramatic enough that every pedestrian we pass will stop to stare.

Talk about not reading the room.

It screams “I’m rich as fuck” as loudly as it does “And you’re poor as dirt.”

My family thrives on theatrics. Making sure everyone in this town and the hundreds nearby know who we are has skyrocketed our reputation. Pompousness, like a stretch limousine, signals exactly who’s arriving and how grateful you should be to be graced with our presence.

Normally, I feed off the hype, but tonight, it grates on my last nerve.

That probably has more to do with the silence of the person who’s been hogging my room all afternoon, but it doesn’t change the facts.

Azra sits behind a vanity mirror, torso angled toward it, pretending she’s as fascinated by the impromptu makeup tutorial Lucia is giving her as Valentina and Camille are. Even while interacting with my family as if she’s a major part of it, she hasn’t uttered a word to me once in the past seven hours. Not a groan or a huff.

It’s driving me insane.

She looks surreal in one of the dresses I selected. It hugs her curves perfectly, but she didn’t stop there. She added a chiffon headpiece with gems woven through the hem like constellations. The gems create a rainbow halo around her hair, resembling diamonds.

She’s an angel summoned to earth to put in place the fool who dared to offend.

God, I fucking hope so.

I like her fiery. I feed off her sass. But she folds too easily.

I hate that more than I hate the possessive jerk who acted like a dick this afternoon. I want the version of her who bites back and challenges me. The one who won’t let me get away with murder, even if I committed it in her honor.

She didn’t display an ounce of that woman in that abandoned field twenty clicks out of town. She caved like releasing a torrent of my cum would douse the jealousy burning me alive.