♥ Chapter 52♥

Alessio Vecchio

Thursday

I’ll give her this time and focus on my work. But I sincerely hope she’s not betraying me, because I know exactly what I’m capable of when betrayal pierces my heart.

The drive to the casino was long, excruciatingly long. Rage boiled inside me, so intense I could kill anyone who dared breathe in my presence. I only realized we had arrived when Dante opened the door for me. I stepped out of the car and marched toward the entrance, desperate to occupy my mind.

As soon as I entered my casino, something caught my attention. I saw several women kneeling on the floor. They must be the ones Christopher sent as a token of gratitude. The headache I felt earlier returned with redoubled force.

“Please, don’t send us to that place, please,” begged the red-haired woman, with the others nodding desperately.

I approached Cezar, who was handling the situation.

“Is there a problem here?” I asked coldly, making him flinch, knowing something was wrong.

“No, sir. We were just deciding where to send them, whether to the clubs or the brothels,” he replied quickly, maintaining his professional posture.

“Please, sir. Don’t send us to those places, please.” The red-haired woman approached me, still kneeling. “I can do anything, we can do anything.” She smiled, trying to act seductive. “I can be good for you, sir.”

She dared to touch my cock over my pants with that hideous face. Without thinking twice, I grabbed her head and, with all my strength, smashed her face against the floor, which cracked upon impact.

“Bitch! How dare you touch me? Who gave you permission to touch me?” My voice echoed through the space, full of uncontrollable fury. The woman trembled from the impact, but there was no mercy in me. The anger inside me was a volcano erupting. I raised my foot and began to stomp on her head repeatedly, crushing it with brutal, relentless force. The sound was nauseating, and the other women in the room screamed in complete horror at the scene.

I left the corpse behind without looking back, my gaze fixed on the corridor ahead. I headed down the right corridor, each step resonating like thunder. I opened the left door with a sharp movement, entering my personal gym, where I had set up a punching bag specifically for these moments of unbridled fury.

I tore off my jacket and threw it on the ground, feeling the rage boil even stronger. Punching the bag with all my strength, repeatedly, the blows echoed through the room, each impact a scream of frustration and anger. My fists began to ache, but I didn’t stop. The physical pain was insignificant compared to the fire burning inside me.

With every blow, the rage burned stronger, and my only relief was the sensation of impact against the punching bag, a poor but necessary substitute for the violence I truly wanted to inflict.

My mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, the image of Isabella mixing with the fury, the frustration of not having what I want. The punching bag became my target, a symbol of everything I needed to control and destroy.

Sweat began to stream down my face, and my entire body was tense with the intensity of my feelings. Each blow was a momentary relief, but the anger never completely disappeared. Violence was the only outlet, the only means of expressing the storm inside me. And I continued, without stopping, until my fists were raw and my breathing was a roar.

But even then, the rage inside me didn’t diminish, and I knew the only thing that could really calm me was having Isabella back in my arms, under my absolute control.

I took several deep breaths, trying to regain some of my composure. My fists dripped blood, a testament to the violence with which I had expressed my frustration. I never imagined that one day I would lose control like this. Isabella, the woman who messes with my sanity. The mere mention of her makes me tremble with rage and desire at the same time. I don’t know if I’ll be able to stay away for two weeks. The curiosity about why she can’t see me is a poison spreading through my mind. But I will wait.

As soon as she comes to see me, I will find out why. And if I notice she’s lying, I won’t show any mercy. I will check every security camera, hack her phone, scour every detail of her life. There will be no secret she can hide from me.

With these dark thoughts, my body began to calm down, although the anger still burned inside me. I know Isabella is mine, and I won’t let anything or anyone come between us.

She will learn that you don’t play with the patience of a man like me. I know she thinks I can be patient, but that is something impossible. Maybe she believes this because I’ve controlled myself a lot around her, but as soon as we meet again, she will realize it was a mistake to keep me away for two weeks.

This distance only feeds the beast inside me. When I finally have her in my arms again, she will understand what it means to play with the feelings of a mafioso. The wait, the anguish, all of it will be charged, and I will make sure to show her what it means to be mine.

I want her. No, I desire her. With an intensity that consumes me, that corrodes me from within. The mere idea that she might be trying to manipulate me, that there could be secrets between us, makes my rage grow even more.

When we finally meet, Isabella will see the true extent of my obsession with her. And she will learn that by trying to deceive me, she only feeds the beast that lives inside me.