Page 95 of Brutal Revenge

My father’s tone shifts from businesslike to concerned. “Then what do you want?”

I stare at Azra, the truth hitting so hard it knocks the breath from my lungs.

“I want her…”—finally, her eyes snap to mine. They should appease my anger, but all they do is make it worse—“to look me in the eye and tell me that this is what she wants. Thatheis who she wants.”

I shove my hand in Antonio’s face and push him back hard enough that he slams into a bookshelf when he attempts to speak on Azra’s behalf.

“She needs to tell me herself.”

Azra holds my gaze for several heart-thrashing seconds before she lowers her eyes to my mouth. I assume she’s recalling the kisses we’ve shared until her nose screws up and she murmurs, “I want to marry Antonio.”

Chapter 29

Azra

Matteo’s anger burned through my skin when he burst into Giovanni’s office. It rolled off him in waves so strong that I almost let myself believe that the fury in his eyes meant something more than a bruised ego. For a moment—a stupid, fleeting moment—I thought he was angry because the idea of me choosing someone who wasn’t him was unbearable to him.

Then I saw it.

The smear of lipstick on the side of his mouth.

It’s a raunchy, glossy red I’ve never owned.

Just like that, the illusion shattered and the fantasy dissolved. The truth settled over me like a cold, wet blanket. This is a game, and I can only win if I play my best hand, not fold anytime he hints that he wants to keep me.

So I lied.

I told him that I want to marry Antonio.

Now, with my spine straight and my chin lifted, I pretend I’m not dying inside as Antonio puffs up behind me, fluffing his feathers like a peacock who recently won a territorial battle.

“She told you her decision.” Antonio’s expression is smug as hestraightens his suit jacket. “Now state your terms so we can move on with our lives.”

Matteo doesn’t move.

He doesn’t blink.

He just stares at me with a twitching jaw and dark, stormy eyes.

I don’t look away.

I can’t.

If I do, I’ll break character.

This is the role that will set my life’s course, so I have to play it to the very end.

Seeing Matteo’s silence as a negotiation tactic, Antonio sighs. “Fine. I’ll increase my bid to two million.” He drifts his eyes to mine, and I almost barf when he adds, “I’m sure she’ll make it worthwhile.”

I’m not a person to him. I’m a possession, a commodity, something to be bought, sold, and traded between men who think they own the world.

Anger twists inside me, but I keep my expression neutral, refusing to let either of them see the sting of their disrespect.

Matteo’s jaw tightens, but he remains stubborn. “I don’t want your money.” For a heartbeat, hope flickers in my chest—stupid, reckless hope—but then he sideswipes it. “But you could coerce me for the right benefits.” He says “benefits” in a way no one could misinterpret.

Needing to redraw the line we smudged, I murmur, “I have no interest in sucking your dick.”

Matteo doesn’t miss a beat.