Chapter 28 Chapter 28

Chapter 28 Chapter 28
Alessandro's Perspective
Sebastian pushes me down onto the chair in the guest room he's just brought me into, without a word. His hands are firm, his expression cold. My head is still throbbing, and I can hardly believe that Nicolai managed to hurt me so badly with a single blow. Sebastian dabs at the wound on my temple with a provocative calm. Every movement emphasized. Every pressure on the gash a silent "Stay put, you bastard." I want to get up. I want to go downstairs, grab him, silence him, but Sebastian puts his hand on my shoulder, hard enough that it cracks. "You want it to heal properly, don't you?" he asks curtly, without looking at me. And then I hear it. A creak. The bed in the next room. I press my lips together, trying to ignore it, but it gets louder. First a laugh, then a throaty, dark moan. Her voice. Yvette. That little damn… “Come on,” I hear him say. Nicolai. His voice deeper than usual, dirty, saturated with lust. “Show me how much you’ve missed feeling me.” Again, that creaking. Metal against wood. No doubt about it. Yvette yelps, too loud, too deliberate, too perfectly staged. “Shit, Nic… harder… I want the whole house to hear it…” I clench my fists, but Sebastian’s grip on my shoulder tightens. He forces me to stay seated. The alcohol-soaked cotton wool burns on my skin, or maybe it’s just my pride being shredded. “Oh fuck… right there… yes… yes… touch me like that… tear me apart… I’m all yours…” I close my eyes. But it only makes things worse. The sounds are everywhere. Every thrust, every shriek. And above it all, his voice, controlled, triumphant. "Spread your legs wider for me... yes, just like that... good girl... I love it when you're so greedy." A gurgle in my throat. I bite the inside of my cheek, taste blood. Sebastian's gaze is blank, but I can feel the quiet, sadistic grin behind his mask. He's enjoying it. Enjoying holding me here. Making me hear my own husband taking another woman right next door. Loudly. Deliberately. "Tell me who you belong to," Nicolai whispers as Yvette whimpers, "Whose hot body is this? Tell me." "Your, only yours... shit, Nic, I belong to you alone..." The creaking intensifies. And I'm losing my mind. I want to scream. I want to get up. I want to do something, but I do nothing. I sit there—blood on my temple, alcohol on my skin, and the bitterest taste of powerlessness on my tongue. I sit on the chair like I'm on a throne of nails. Every sound from next door burns into my brain like acid. The creaking of the bed. That staccato, deliberately exaggerated panting. Yvette, taking her damn job more than seriously. "Oh damn... so deep... yeah... right there... harder, Nic!" I press my lips together, my jaw jerks. "Fuck me like before... how you need it... screw consideration, tear me apart..." Sebastian doesn't say a word. He's by my hand, fiddling with my split knuckles as if he's tending to a wound for the first time in his life. Slowly. Shit, so slowly. Nicolai's voice deep, dirty, perfectly controlled. "Spread your legs for me... yeah, that's a good girl..." A groan so loud it pierces my very core. "Tell me who you belong to, Yvette." "To you! To you, damn it... only to you..." Again that clapping. No doubt about what's happening. It's all intentional. For me. So that I can hear it. So I can't get it out of my head. I feel my fingers wanting to curl, but Sebastian firmly pushes them back. "Stay still," he says quietly, almost kindly. "I can't work properly otherwise." He applies bandages like an artist. Every pull, every press is drawn out, and I swear, the bastard enjoys it. "Well, look at that," he murmurs, "even your skin is fighting back against you." I growl deeply. "Shut up, Sebastian." He grins. And pulls the bandage tighter. Next door, Yvette screams, a long, shameless moan. "Yes! More... grab me tighter... tear me apart, Nic, tear me apart!" "Say it louder," I hear Nicolai say, "I want him to hear everything." I close my eyes, but it's no use. The wall is thin. The words cut through like a scalpel. Sebastian leans back, surveying his work with the calm of a surgeon who knows his patient is suffering. "You know," he says casually, "there are sounds you never forget. Some sear themselves into your memory. So deeply that even the finest bourbon can't wash them away." I want to reply, anything, but then the moment arrives. Yvette gasps, almost screams. "Nieic! Oh God, Nic! I'm coming..." A final dull thud against the wall. Then Nicolai, his groan deeper, quieter, more controlled, but damn clear. "That's a good boy... come for me..." Silence. But not for me. A storm is raging in my head. And Sebastian? He pats me on the shoulder as if I were a damned patient who's just survived minor surgery. "There. That's it. You're taken care of." He gets up, gathers his things, and leaves me sitting there. "And in case you forgot... that was revenge. For everything." Then he's gone. And I'm left behind. Blood under the bandage. And in my head. And the noises? They don't stop. Not in here. The door opens, and there he is. Half-dressed, shirt open, his skin still warm from the shitty drama next door, the one he staged especially for me. He's leaning in the doorway, so smug, so confident that his little performance had power. "Everyone's waiting downstairs," he says, as if giving me orders. "Dessert. Move!" I just look at him for a second. Not surprised. Not impressed. Just extremely calm. Much too calm. Then I start moving. One step. Two. Three. And before he realizes he should have moved, I grab his open shirt, yank him away from the wall, and slam him back against it, hard enough to make him gasp. His head jerks to the side, he takes a breath, but I don't give him a second. My hand closes around his jaw, forcing his gaze upon me, my thumb pressing so hard against his cheek that he can't close his mouth. "You really think that was a victory," I growl softly, so close that my words slice past his ear. "A bit of moaning, a cheap show, a couple of walls that aren't thick enough!" I brutally slam his hips back against the wall, my body thrust in front of his, leaving him no room to move. "Listen carefully, Petrovich!" I grab his shirt with my other hand, tearing it open further, almost to his shoulder. His skin is exposed. Vulnerable. Perfect. "What you were doing over there wasn't power," I say slowly. "That was panic. That was the pathetic attempt of a man who realized he was trapped in his own lies! You had her in your bed, but you didn't get a shred of what you wanted!" His breath catches in gasps. He tries to maintain his composure, but his body betrays more than he wants to. I press my knee between his legs, forcing him even closer to the wall. The tension in his muscles practically leaps out at me. "Tell me..." my voice drops deeper, quieter, more dangerous, "...which part of it consumed you more, that I heard it, or that you still couldn't push me away!" He wants to answer, but my grip on his jaw makes it impossible. Only a rough, uncontrolled exhalation escapes him. A perfect confession. I lean so close that my forehead almost touches his.