Page 159 of Mafia And Maid
“Who’d have thought she’d open her legs for that brute?”
The words snap my head in that direction, my hand tightening on the tumbler in my hand.
“From what Grayden’s said, she’s a bad lay. She must be good at other services, if you know what I mean.”
“I doubt it. Have you seen her? She’s a fat bitch. She’d put off any man with a body likethat...”
Their boisterous laughter has me seeing red. The sound of cracking glass echoes around me as I slam the drink on the bar top. “What did you say?” My voice comes out as a growl.
Their grins fall from their faces in unison as I tower over them.
“You don’t s-scare us.”
I arch a brow at the stuttered declaration. I most certainly do.
“You can’t do shit to us,” the other slurs, pressing his pudgy finger into my chest. “Touch us, and I’ll get my lawyer to sue you for everything you're worth.”
My eyes drop to the digit pressing into my Italian suit, then back up at the man.
Hastily removing his finger, he lifts his drink with a feeble smile. “Plus, we’re just having a laugh. Anyway, once you get tired of the mousy bitch, we’ll gladly take her off your hands.”
I squeeze my fist tighter at my side. My self-control is slowly slipping out of my hands. “Keep Rosa’s name out of your fucking filthy mouth.”
The man laughs like I’ve said the funniest joke. It’s a bad mistake on his part. And he knows it the moment he feels and hears the crunch of his nose beneath my fist.
Chaos erupts around me as our bodies crash into the ground.
Each ragged breath seems to bring more rage than clarity to me.
I lunge at him again as my hands tighten their grip.
The slippery, viscous liquid of blood coats my knuckles as the haze of red turns even more intense.
Rough hands try to grab me.
But I rip myself free, my hands circling the throat before me until his cough and gasps are all I hear.
CHAPTER 40
ROSA
“Camillo!” I shriek. His body freezes. And rough hands yank him back.
“You animal!” a woman yells. “Harold! Oh, Harold, are you okay?”
“You’re psychotic!” another man says. “He just attacked him!”
“You’re going to regret this,” Harold wheezes, gripping at his throat. “Not even your thugs can protect you now.”
“Throw him out of here!” my mother demands.
I start to rush toward him, but Reagan snatches my arm, her nails digging into my skin. “Just let him go. This is Daddy’s funeral, for God’s sake. If he can’t behave, of course he’s going to be thrown out. Don’t cause any more of a scene by running after him, Rosa.”
My step falters, and I’m frozen in place, unable to know what to do for the best.
Everyone is speaking in shocked whispers, and my mother is dabbing at her eyes.
Camillo’s eyes drop from my wide eyes to the ground. And he doesn’t protest as he’s hauled away from the scene.