Page 173 of Mafia And Maid

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Page 173 of Mafia And Maid

“P-please,” I plead. But it’s no use.

Another quick kick to his shoulder, just like Camillo taught me. I scramble back up.

My bare feet slip along the floor.

And I knock over the lamp as I scramble down the hall.

I rush to the kitchen. I just need a weapon—something until security comes.

If they come.

My frantic breathing fills the room. I duck down to hide behind the island. The butcher block of knives gleams like a saving grace just feet from where I crouch.

But the thud of his boots down the hall means I freeze.

The salty taste of tears hits my tongue as I lick my dry lips.

“Come out,whore. No one’s coming to save you. My guys took care of them all.”

All of them?

My heartbeat drowns my ears. I rack my brain to remember the moves Camillo drilled into me.Anything is better than being a victim again.

I just need to buy some time…

The sound of his steps stops.

“I wonder if he has to fake it as much as I had to,” he sneers. “If I’d have known you’d spread your legs for just anyone, I’d have passed you around my friends and made a pretty penny off of you sooner.”

He’s closer now—I can tell by the way his voice echoes off the walls.

I squeeze my eyes shut. It’s now or never.

I lunge for the knives, my fingers curling around a beautifully crafted handle. The evil look in his eyes sends bile racing up the back of my throat. It’s the same look I’ve seen a million times...

“What are you going to do with that?” His head tilts to the side with the taunt. “I’m your husband. You can’t kill me. Iownyou.”

The butcher's knife wobbles in my hand as I hold it between us. “Leave. Now. I don’t have anything you want.”

“Wrong.”

A step closer.

“You took fuckingeverythingfrom me. I’m supposed to forget that?”

I tighten my hold on the handle, slowly walking backward. “I didn’t.”

“You took my son. You whored yourself to the men who tried to ruin your father.” His laugh is deranged. “You’ve been a fucking waste of breath since I married you!”

He steps closer.

Then closer.

My back hits the edge of the counter.

I’m blocked in.

“Put the knife down,” he sneers.




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