“Leave us,” he said sharply. “Angel and I need to be alone right now.”
Arancia blinked, taken aback by his tone. I’d never heard him speak like that before. Not to her, at least. I should be frightened, but at this moment, I didn’t care about whatever punishment he’d have for me. Rage had built up in every muscle in my body, a storm brewing underneath my soul about to explode.
Arancia and the bodyguards scampered away instantly, and a red mist descended on me, and the ringing in my ears grew louder as my emotions spiraled out of control.
My feet flew with the wind, my screaming and cursing echoing across the island. I didn’t know where I was going, and I was certain he’d catch me and hurt me, but I couldn’t bring myself to stop. All the anger, terror, humiliation, frustration and agony I’d felt since I set foot here boiled to the surface, erupting in fierce rage.
I didn’t know how long I’d been running before steely arms wrapped around me from the back, imprisoning me in a familiar embrace. I kicked and screamed until I exhausted myself in his strong hold and my voice became hoarse. I crumbled against him on the sand in defeat, tears running down my face.
“Are you done?” he whispered in my ear, the sinister, intoxicating dark note in his tone that subdued me with far more strength than that of his body.
I shook my head in response, but I was done. Even if I wasn’t, he wouldn’t let me.
“You ruined our wedding,” he said.
And now it was time for my punishment. My skin tingled. My whole body responded to the pain that was to come with eagerness and anticipation. That fear and the mind-shattering bliss that inevitably accompanied it.
“I never wanted it,” I whimpered.
“Then you don’t fucking deserve it!” His hand fell heavily on the back of the dress and ripped at it. I cried out with every tear until the dress turned into scattered shreds flying with the wind, and I was a puddle of sobs in only my underwear on the sand.
He fisted my hair and twisted my body so I’d face him. Then he pushed me against the sand and ripped off my bra and panties. He took off his suit and boxers and tossed them away, towering over me stark naked. His eyes looked at me like he wanted to devour me, to tear out my soul and swallow it whole.
Helplessly, my gaze was drawn to the perfection his face and body and cock were, and I hated myself for craving him so much. It burned me up and ate my soul that I loved, fucking needed, the vicious cruelty of this predator. The pitch black darkness I’d learned to love.
I was in love with Tino Bellomo. I’d always been in love with him.
His grip tightened around my wrists as he lifted my arm above my head and yanked out the tampon. Then he thrust his erection into me, fucking me harder than ever, angrier, rougher. I bled around him, my gushes of arousal thicker than the blood. He pinched my nipples and bit them roughly, fucking me deeper with every scream of mine.
“Why, Angel?” he whispered as his erection swelled inside me.
I couldn’t say it, unwilling to take that last, irrevocable step. I couldn’t bare myself to the wolf like that. He’d taken far too much from me; I couldn’t let him have this, too. I couldn’t let him know the real reason behind my fury was that I was fucking in love with him.
When I didn’t reply, his expression darkened further. “Why?”
“I hate you,” I croaked, gathering the last shreds of my defiance. “I hate you—”
His eyes became pits of blue fire as he pounded me. “Is that right?”
I held his gaze, refusing to blink. “Yes,” I hissed, “I hate you!” I couldn’t let him know the unthinkable truth. He couldn’t know.
Suddenly, he slid out of me and flipped me on my stomach. Then he walked to his belt and bent to grab it. He folded in in front of me, making me know what was to come, before his large body dominated me from behind. His erection pressed against my buttocks, its uncompromising hardness both a threat and a promise.
“I don’t give a shit if you hate me. You’re fucking mine whether you like it or not.” The lashes and whips of the belt descended heavily on my ass, each strike fire licking at my skin. I cried out and tensed with each lash, and then my body softened with pain, needing the sex that would follow when my tormentor became my only solace.
When he was done, he tossed the belt away and slid inside me from behind with one thrust. He pulled my hair, yanking my head back so he’d consume me with a hungry kiss. I reveled in his taste. My backside was on fire, but it didn’t diminish my need and desire for him one bit. It intensified it.
He was swollen inside me again, and I shuddered with ecstasy that bordered on agony. I bucked into him, taking him deeper, needing him to fuck me, to claim me in the most primitive way possible.
With a howl, he pulled out of me and flipped me. Then he came all over me, marking my body with his bloodstained cum.
He got off me, and just like that, without giving me the usual orgasm or bothering to pick me up to take me back to the house or even covering me up, he started down the beach, walking away from me without a word.
I used his clothes to cover up before I went back to the house, but he was gone with the roar of the plane.
Chapter 52
Lina
A week, the longest week of my life, had passed and Tino hadn’t returned yet.
Arancia gave me a pitiful glance, hearing the question on my mouth before I asked it. “He’ll be back, Angel. You know he will.”
“I only want him back so he can take me home.” My jaw twisted. “He obviously no longer wants me.”
She snorted. “Yeah, sure.”
“What? You don’t believe me?”
“It doesn’t matter what I believe, Angel.”
“Stop calling me that.” She’d been calling me Angel since I’d known who Tino really was. While I didn’t mind before—because what was the point?—it agitated me now. “My name is Lina.”
“Your name is Angel. That’s what Do Bellomo calls you, and it stays that way. You know what? I think you like it much more than Lina.”
“Fuck you, Arancia.”
She strutted away in a white bikini. “You’re not my type, Angel.”
I growled. Fuck this whole fucking family.
I marched into the music room and picked up my violin. Shostakovich No. 10, Movement 2. I hit the chords with the anger roiling in me that suited this piece perfectly. Then, subconsciously, I switched to that Korean song in the Goblin OST show by Soyou.
I Miss You.
My eyes snapped shut as I swore, almost throwing the bow against the wall in frustration. How could I fucking miss him after all he’d done? How could his absence slice at me, ripping my soul to pieces like that?
How could I love him that much?
I restarted the angry piece, and again I switched to I Miss You, tears falling in abundance, desperation taking over me.
A distant roar flicked through me like a match lit in the dark. I ran to the window and saw it in the sky. Tino’s plane.
He was back. He didn’t abandon me. He came back for me.
I ran outside, my violin and bow still in my hand. I sprang to one of the beach chairs and pretended I’d been playing there all along. I wanted him to see me the first thing so he wouldn’t just go inside the house and ignore me.