CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

BELLA

He’s sorry I’m unhappy? That’s the biggest crock of shit I’ve ever heard. Nico doesn’t care if I’m miserable or not. I don’t think he cares about anyone other than himself. He has proven that to me time and time again. And that is the reason Reaper Bonetti needs to die. I don’t want to kill again, but to save myself, I will. For now, I’ll play by his rules. Until he trusts me enough to relax enough for me to kill him. There will be no hesitation, because I know I will only get one chance. If I try, and fail, he will not let his guard down twice. In fact, he would probably kill me.

We finish eating dinner, and I go with him to the kitchen and help him clean up. It’s strange, the way he moves in sync with me, as if even when his back is turned, he always knows exactly where I am. After he starts the dishwasher, he reaches behind him and grabs my arm, as he turns to face me and pulls me against his chest.

“Go into the living room and get comfortable. I have to make a phone call. Be a good girl, and I may have a surprise for you tomorrow.”

I pull away from him and, as I walk to the other room, I feel the eyes of a predator on me, every step of the way. Taking a seat on the black leather sectional, I wait for him to come and join me. I hear him talking on the phone, but cannot understand what he’s saying, because he keeps his voice low.

He walks into the room, and pulls his shirt over his head while he steps closer to me. My eyes immediately drop to his sculpted chest and arms, that tell me he must spend a lot of time working out. Nico sits on the sofa beside me and grabs my hips, turning me toward him, and my gaze immediately lands on his shoulder. I reach up and drag my fingers over the tattoo on his shoulder of an eyeball .

“Explain this.”

Arching an eyebrow, he says, “Explain what? It’s a tattoo.”

Crossing my legs on the sofa, I hold my shirt down, so I’m not exposing anything.

“What’s with the eye fascination?”

He stares into my eyes, but he looks far away and lost in his thoughts.

“The eyes display emotions. Fear. Sadness. Happiness. Anger. When a person dies, as you’ve now witnessed, they go from expressing the emotion they are feeling, usually fear, to nothing. Their eyes take on a glassy appearance, and frequently the pupils are dilated. I can’t explain it, but it’s captivating.”

“Were you really going to cut my eyes out?”

He smirks at me, and suddenly seems to be out of his lost state as he focuses on me.

“You were the first person I’ve ever considered cutting them out of and keeping them. Your eyes are the most expressive I’ve ever seen. And the thought of never seeing them again physically hurts.”

Shaking my head, I say, “That’s not normal. In fact, it’s the polar opposite. What’s your damage, Nico Bonetti? Something happened to make you this way.”

His face falls, before he quickly hides behind that handsome mask. Clenching his jaw, he grits through his teeth.

“I have been told all my life how fucked up I am. I do not need a reminder from you as well.”

Sliding his hand into my hair, he winds the strands around his fist, and yanks my head back painfully.

“Now I want to punish you. Do you think I’m unaware that it’s not normal? That I’m not fucking normal?”

The glare in his eyes is frightening. He yanks my hair harder and growls at me.

“You are the one person I wanted to accept me as I am, but you don’t. ”

It’s not his anger that catches me off guard, but the pure pain in his expression.

“I need to hurt you.”

“Nico, I’m sorry,” I whimper as the tears spring to my eyes. Not so much from the stinging in my head, but because, other than murder, I don’t really know what he’s capable of. I don’t want to find out.

Rising off the couch, he leans down and lifts me over his shoulder.

“Where are we going?”

“Upstairs. I don’t want to get blood on the sofa.”