Page 96 of Brutal Revenge

“Again,” he says, his voice mocking.

He doesn’t stop at one stab wound.

“And that isn’t what I want.” His bitter tone could frost glass. “Why barter for something I know I can have for free?”

The room’s walls move in on me as my vision blurs. Even as my teeth grit so hard that my jaw aches, I don’t let a single emotion show on my face.

Matteo angles away from me as if I’m just a pawn before he says, “I’ll take Isabella. Don Adami’s oldest daughter.”

Antonio’s dark brows get lost in his hairline. “Isabella?”

Matteo nods. “I’ve heard she isveryaccommodating to her father’s friends.” His reply drips with implication, and each word sears through me with humiliating sharpness.

Antonio considers his barter for only a second before agreeing to it. “Fine. Once the purity test concludes tomorrow at ten a.m., I’ll collect Azra?—”

Before I can react to him already booking the purity test, Matteo cuts in. “I’ll drop Azra off.” His shrug is casual. Indifferent.Cruel.“I took her from there, so it’s only fair that I make sure she getshomesafely.” Bile burns my throat from the way he says “home.” “Besides, I need to collect Isabella. May as well kill two birds with one stone.”

His words settle in my stomach like rocks, each one heavier than the last. I shrink even as I remain perfectly composed.

“Fair enough.” Antonio moves to stand in front of me, his expression smug and victorious. “I’ll see you tomorrow, darling.” Leaning in, he air-kisses both my cheeks. His breath is sticky and gross against my skin.

Then he leaves, abandoning me in a room full of Carusos.

I expect Matteo to follow him out after one last biting remark, but instead, he storms off without a single glance in my direction. His footsteps are loud against the marble, and he slams the door shut so forcefully that the frame rattles.

Don Caruso and Giovanni both stare at me with an expression I can’t decipher. It’s a cross of disappointment and resignation. I failed the test I didn’t realize I was taking or broke something they expected me to protect.

I don’t understand what they expected. I followed the plan. I played the part. I didexactlywhat I was supposed to do.

So why do they look at me like I ruined everything?

“The test will take place in the on-site doctor’s office. It’s on the third floor?—”

I interrupt Giovanni. “Two doors down from Camille’s playroom.I’m aware.”

Don Caruso walks around the desk and props his backside against the glossy wood. “If you want someone to attend the appointment with you, I can organize that for you. Antonio said you would be fine, but I understand this could be daunting. You are a young woman, thousands of miles from home.”

“I’ll be fine,” I assure him, continuing with the mantra I’ve used for the past twenty-four hours. “But thank you for checking.”

He assesses me with kind eyes I’ve never seen from my father before he accepts my assurance with a brief chin dip.

Minutes later, a maid appears at the doorway, wheeling my suitcase. When she signals me to accompany her, Giovanni gives me a small, reassuring nod. I should be relieved they’re not making me sleep in Matteo’s room, but my stomach twists. Sleeping in any room under this roof feels fraudulent. I’m going back to Antonio tomorrow, so this couldn’t feel more like trespassing if I tried.

The maid leads me to the first room I was assigned upon my arrival here—the room Matteo usually takes his women to.

Yes, plural.

Although I cleared the room out the night I arrived, it still smells faintly of the perfume the woman Matteo referred to as “Tuesday” wore.

My chest tightens.

“Is there any other room I can sleep in?” Everything inside me is unraveling, but my question comes out smoothly. “I’ll take the couch. The hallway. A broom closet. Anythingbutthis room.”

Dark locks swish when the maid shakes her head. “SignorCaruso specifically asked that I bring you to this room.”

I want to ask whichSignorCaruso—Matteo, his father, or one of his brothers—but I’ve endured enough hurt today. I doubt I’ll survive the answer, whichever one it is.

After smiling at the maid, I wheel the suitcase someone packed in a hurry into the room, shut the door behind me, then collapse onto the bed. The sheets smell like the bodywash of the woman I scared out of here on my first day, and it churns my stomach. It’s a reminderthat I am not special or different. I was nothing more than a temporary occupant in Matteo’s world.