Page 2 of Bloodlust

"For the fifth time, my name is Wendy!" she seethes through her teeth. "Not Karen!"

"Whatever, Karen," I say flippantly, facing the judge. "Listen, all I did was toss her a little compact, that's all."

"I needed stitches!" Karen screams, her face turning red. "Two of them!"

"I don't see how your sloth-like reflexes are my fault," I state. At this point, I can hardly even remember what Karen did or said to piss me off at Nordstrom. I laugh internally. She probably just opened her mouth. A voice like that would make even the Pope go nuclear. "Your Honor, can we please dismiss these charges already? I'm a very busy woman. I don't have the time or patience to entertain Miss Karen's get-rich-quick scheme."

"My name is Wendy!" the idiot yells again.

God, she needs to be locked up.

"Enough," Judge Keegan sighs, shaking his head as his gaze skims both benches. "Miss Bianco, whether it was a throw as Mr. Julian claims, or a...tossas you so claim, the footage from the CCTV camera isirrefutable."

"Hah!" Karen exclaims, a prideful grin on her face.

My jaw locks. Is she...laughingat me? That lowlife? That human scum? And is he... ruling in her favor? Oh, this fresh little fishy doesn't know what he's doing.

With a burning tingle in my fingertips that slowly spreads up my arm, I stare at Judge Keegan. This time, I'm not smiling. This time, I'm not acting. No. This time... I'm being real. Myself. I'm Camilla Bianco of the Bianco Crime Family. And this? This is unacceptable.

No one in my family has ever been charged with even a parking ticket. This can't happen. Not now. Not this early. Not when I just clawed my way to the fucking top. I intend to stay here. This is where I belong. This is my rightful throne. And no one, I mean no one, will take this from me.

"Do you know who I am, Fred?" I ask the judge, gripping the edge of the table. "Does my name ring a bell?"

"Of course, Miss Bianco," he states, unflinching. Really? Another idiot. "But you are not above the law."

Great, he's a martyr. How inconvenient.

"With all due respect,Fred," I say, frustration bubbling in my blood, "but in New York City? Iamthe law." I glance at Karen. "A fact that should make you feel very,veryafraid."

Karen's eyes go wide with fear. Good. As it should be. "Are you threatening me?" she shrieks. "Your Honor, did you hear her? You heard her, right?"

I hope he did. He should be scared too. My trigger finger is trembling at the thought of putting these two fleas down.

"Miss Bianco," the judge says, surprisingly keepinghis composure, "if you could refrain from uttering threats in my courtroom, that would be much appreciated."

"She's a fucking lunatic!" Karen yells. "She needs to be thrown in jail!"

"What did you just call me?" My hand finds the closest thing to grip. This energy needs to be transferred to something. I need to control myself. I need to ground this building rage.

Breathe, Camilla. Fucking breathe.

"I said—" Karen, with a moronic burst of confidence, rounds the desk, stalking toward me, "—you're a fucking lunatic."

My pulse quickens as I sense everyone staring at me. They're watching. Waiting. What will she do? No one would dare speak to my father like this. To my grandfather. To my cousins. They never had to deal with this. They'd never be dragged this far. The same blood runs through my veins. This blood demands respect. And yet here we are. There's only one difference between me and them. A difference I can't change. A difference I was born with.

I don't have a fucking cock dangling between my thighs.

"A lunatic?" I ask, a small maniacal laugh slipping past my lips. "I'll show you fucking lunatic!" I grab the stapler off the table, chucking it across the room. I have excellent aim, so the thing flies just a dick hair away from her face before slamming into the far wall. "Is that lunatic enough for you, Karen?"

"Miss Bianco!" Judge Keegan bangs his gavel, drawing the attention of the now almost weeping leech.The tingling sensation in my fingers dissipates slowly, my heart rate slowing down. "That is enough!" He glares at me, but I don't care anymore. I'm over it. "I am hereby ordering you to pay Miss Graham for medical expenses incurred as a result of your thoughtless actions, as well as an additional fifty thousand dollars for infliction of emotional distress."

"What—"

He's kidding, right? She should be paying me!

"I am not finished," he continues in a stern tone, much to my dismay. "In addition to financial restitution, I am ordering that you complete forty-eight hours of mandatory anger management therapy with a doctor of your choice."

"I'm sorry? What?" I choke, blinking. Am I hallucinating right now? "Anger management? Have you lost your goddamn mind? You can't do that!"