Chapter 21 Cruel Mother
Lila POV
That alone was proof that the wetness I felt between my legs wasn’t because of the situation I was in, it was because of him Nico.
If it wasn’t, my stomach wouldn’t have churned when Damon had his hands on me. I wouldn’t have felt the very unwelcome urge to vomit until Nico arrived.
If I was completely wacked, insane and turned on by merely the danger and the rush of adrenaline, Damon touch would have done the same things to my body as Nico touch but it didn’t.
Instead it sucked every ounce of energy out of me, whizzing my mind into shards of despair.
The second Damon walked away, my body gave in and the cuffs around my wrists were the only things keeping me from collapsing to the ground.
My body couldn’t handle the strain for a second longer. And when Nico burning touch replaced Damon venomous stroke, my body immediately responded with a deep rooted lust that had no place inside me.
The double doors of the dining hall got shoved open, and every eye turned in the direction. The silence that settled over the room of men was deafening, my spine chilling as apprehension grabbed ahold of me.
A woman, probably in her fifties, dressed in a black dress, wearing a silver crucifix around her neck came walking in.
Dark curls hung around her shoulders, and the way she walked screamed sophistication, confidence, and determination.
The only problem was her determination seemed to be aimed at me as her dark gaze was fixed on mine with every step she took.
She didn’t look left or right, never acknowledging any of the guests. Her only goal seemed to be reaching me, and that made my skin crawl.
“Miss Falcone. Finally we meet.”
“Who are you?”
Her reply was a swift, hard palm to my cheek. I never saw it coming. I only felt the burn, the sting the utter humiliation.
“ May you burn in Hell.
The animosity, loathing, and disgust in her words slammed against my chest. And as her dark eyes glared at me, revulsion swirled in them and made me hyper aware of the fact that this woman was fueled by her hate…hate for me.
“You took my son away from me, and for that you will suffer eternal Hell and damnation.”
“I didn’t”
Another slap to the face cut off my words, ripping more tears from my body. Fire burned my cheek, trepidation charred my insides.
“You deserve every ounce of the wrath Nico will rain down upon you. And I look forward to seeing you suffer.” Her words were gritted between clenched teeth, the veins in her neck protruding as disdain flowed through her veins.
I didn’t dare say another word. There was the same evil darkness in her that I saw in Damon.
Nico was dark too, but his was different. It’s like he tried to fight his where this woman and Damon embraced it, fed it lived it.
She lifted her arm again, but this time a glint of silver flashed under the light. I gasped when I felt the blade against the skin of my neck, and all I could do was close my eyes and hold my breath, anticipating the slicing of flesh.
“mother!”
The blade pierced my skin, but before I even registered the pain the knife was gone. The first thing I did was inhale to see if I could still breathe. Thank God the air filled my lungs, cooling the fire of fear in my chest.
When I opened my eyes I saw Nico gripping the woman’s wrist with the knife still in her hand.
Not yet.
He dropped her hand and eased her back by putting him between me and her.
The woman glowered at him.
It was his mother. The woman who almost slit my throat was Nico mother, Nikolai mother. Oh my God. The entire fucking Moretti family hated me, wanted to see me dead.
This entire time I had a slither of hope that somehow I might be able to survive this but now, with all these glaring eyes filled with hate staring at me, I wasn’t so sure. How could I survive all their hate, all their need for revenge?
Nico mother lowered her knife and lifted her chin.
He lowered his head in acknowledgement, in respect, then waited patiently for her to walk away.
I took a deep breath. “You said soon.”
He turned. “Excuse me?”
“You said soon when she asked when. Am I correct in assuming that she meant when as in when you’ll finally slit my throat, or drive that knife through my heart?”
A dark brow arched as he stared at me. “You speak Italian?”
It wasn’t my intention to expose the one advantage I had, the fact that I could understand them without them knowing. But I couldn’t stop myself. I needed to know. I needed to know if my death would come sooner than I thought than I hoped.
He stepped closer, eyes etched on mine. You lied.
” I didn’t. I just didn’t tell you".
You should have told me.
You plan on killing me.