Page 107 of Brutal Revenge

A squeak escapes my lips when he punches the desk with enough force to crumble the wood under his hand before he yanks back and storms for the exit, uncaring that his dick is still hanging out.

“Matteo—”

He’s long gone before his name slips from my lips. The office door buckles under the weight of his departure, as well as my knees when he grabs a waitress’s wrist and drags her toward the exit while muttering, “You wanna fuck? Let’s fuck.”

Chapter 33

Azra

The morning of my wedding feels nothing like a wedding morning should. There’s no excitement or butterflies. There’s nothing but a hollow ache in my chest and a pounding behind my eyes that refuses to ease no matter how many deep breaths I take.

In the vanity, I stare at my reflection as the makeup artist works around me, her brushes tapping softly against my skin like she’s painting a doll instead of a person.

My heart is in tatters. Still shredded from last night and raw from both my exchange with Matteo and how it ended. I’m furious with him, but I’m also angry at myself. I should never have let it go as far as it did.

Today I’m supposed to be celebrating the fact that I’m nearing the vengeance I’ve been plotting for years. The well-planned hoax after today has kept me alive and focused. It kept me breathing when everything else felt impossible.

I should be ecstatic that the day is finally here, but all I feel is miserable.

Today feels like a punishment. A slow, suffocating discipline wrapped in silk andlace.

I feel like someone has scraped my heart raw, and my chest aches.

Not all my symptoms are because of the fight with Matteo—though that alone is enough to tear me apart—but because he left the club with another woman. I saw the way she clung to him and how lust wasn’t the only thing firing in her eyes.

Even though I shouldn’t care and have absolutely no right to tell him how to live his life, the blonde’s hope for something more permanent than a one-night stand has been scalding me ever since I recognized it on my face when I entered the bathroom attached to the nightclub’s office to tidy myself up before returning to my hen party.

The makeup artist lifts a tube of red lipstick, stealing me from my thoughts. She twists it until the thick sheen of color glints under the hotel room’s lights. It’s bold and dramatic, the red that stains everything it touches.

The red I imagine smeared across Matteo’s mouth this morning, left behind by the woman he left with.

As my stomach twists, I close my eyes and try to steady myself.

The door to my room shoots open before I can gather my thoughts, and a suit-clad man wheels in a breakfast cart full of steaming coffee, pastries, and fruit. He isn’t alone. Antonio enters with him.

After handing the butler a generous tip, he pushes the cart up to me like he’s a normal, loving groom.

My spine stiffens. I’ve been avoiding him since the bridal party checked into the hotel where our wedding is being held. It’s unclear if the bodyguards were brave enough to tell him the truth about what happened at the club, or if I should have even lost a second of sleep over it.

I doubt he cares enough about me to mind that I spent time alone with Matteo.

“Antonio.” Despite my raging pulse, I compel my voice to stay even. “You shouldn’t be here. It’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding.”

He snorts. “I don’t believe in stupid superstitions like that.”

He lifts one of the silver domes, revealing a plate of eggs and toast,before he shrugs as if he’s discussing the weather. “My first wife was perfect… and look how that turned out.”

The disgruntled chuckle following his sentence hits me like a slap.

Hattie was perfect… until she met him.

Now she’s dead.

His lack of empathy is so painful that it steals my breath. I hide it well, though. I’ve spent years practicing how to swallow my reactions until they dissolve into nothing.

Take last night as a prime example. Despite my entire being believing the opposite, I told Matteo I wasn’t his. I didn’t lie to hurt him. I lied to survive.

Antonio gestures toward the small table by the window. “Come eat with me. You’ll need your energy for the big day.”