Page 131 of Brutal Revenge

“Mark me. Claim me. Let everyone in this hotel know who I belong to. Fuck me like you own me,” I whisper in his ear.

And he does, hard and fast, for the next several hours.

Chapter 41

Azra

Igingerly step down the front stairs of the hotel. Last night was... I don’t have the words to describe it. It surpassed anything I could have imagined. But this morning, I’m still feeling the aftershocks of my greed.

Every part of me hurts, including my heart.

After treating me as his own personal sex slave for hours, Matteo bathed me, fed me, and held me close until exhaustion overwhelmed me.

I still can’t be sure I’m not dreaming.

This can’t be my life.

It doesn’t seem real.

It’s too perfect.

Guilt should weigh on me. To anyone outside my inner circle, it looks like I’ve abandoned the promise I made to my best friend for countless orgasms. Only Matteo and I know that isn’t true. He promised to find answers about Hattie’s suicide, and I believed him when he pledged to make sure the only place I’ve ever called home won’t be torn down.

Having someone finally listen to me feels so freeing that I almost float toward the valet instead of walking.

My eyes sting from the bright morning sun, yet its rays cannot keep my head in the clouds when I see the person in line ahead of me.

My father impatiently taps his foot as a young valet opens the door for my mother. He doesn’t tip or acknowledge the valet when he hands him his keys. He walks to the driver’s door, kicking up dust on his polished shoes, then slips inside.

I assume I’m in the clear. Then his head suddenly cranks, and his glare pins me in place. He glares at me as if he hates me.

Pity for him, I’m in too much of a love bubble to let his anger burst my happiness.

That’s why he’s angry, isn’t it?

There are no Happily Ever Afters in his world—only misery and pain.

I sense Matteo’s closeness half a second before my father’s expression changes. His gaze doesn’t become kinder. It’s too calculating to be anything but menacing.

“Are you okay?” Matteo asks, scanning the crowded loading zone for a read on my hardened expression.

Since most of our guests stayed overnight, the hotel foyer and valet were busy once check-out time arrived. Hopeful it would get us out of here sooner rather than later, Matteo helped the bellboy load my luggage into the SUV Giovanni sent to pick us up.

I nod once, curtly, then gallop down the stairs.

Not the best thought I’ve had.

“Thank you,” I murmur to the valet holding open the car door for me. Matteo tips him generously before slipping in behind me. We start the drive home with half the security convoy ahead of us and half trailing behind.

As the world outside the window blurs, I turn to face Matteo. “We could have taken your bike. Looks like a nice day for a ride.” I say my last sentence in a way even a monk couldn’t miss. It’s full of ambiguity.

“Are you implying my bike is the only thing you want to ride today,Mrs.Caruso?”

“Not at all,Mr.Caruso,” I reply, smiling. “Merely interested in learning how good you are at multitasking.”

Sirens interrupt Matteo’s reply, and then the convoy slows before eventually stopping.

“Stay here,” Matteo says.