Page 30 of Vicious Impulses (The Capo and Ballerina)
She picks up her spoon, scoops up a bite of the risotto on her plate, and then hardly swallows any down.
I bare my teeth at her. “Must everything be so fucking difficult with you?”
“When can I dance again?”
So that’s what this is about…
“You’ll dance when—andif—I say you can.”
“I have a leading part in Ignazio Prescutti’s ballet—”
“I don’t give a shit,” I interrupt crudely. “Eat your fucking food first.”
Her dark brown eyes narrow at me. Her good hand tightens around her fork, and she funnels a few more bites of risotto to her mouth.
But my mood’s already too sour to give a damn. She doesn’t get credit for being coerced into complying. She can whine and protest and throw temper tantrums all she likes.
I’min control, and I’ll deprive her of whatever I want.
Including her dancing.
Dinner ends on a tense note, with Ms. Poitier collecting her and me going off to the floor underground.
Though my estate’s only manned with fewer than twelve regular staff members at any given time, occasionally, I’ll call in the rest of my crew.
Tonight’s one of those moments. They await me in the underground compound I’ve built to conduct any necessary operations. I stride into the room to everyone lined up, except for the asshole on his knees.
Enrico’s face is busted and bruised from my earlier beatdown. His lopsided nose leaks and his right eye is swollen beyond repair. Both signs he likely needs emergency treatment. He won’t be receiving any tonight.
I stop in front of him, my bulging arms folded against my wide chest. “You’ve been a loyalsoldatoand part of my crew for years. Tell me what happened.”
He coughs up blood that sprays onto my shoes. “Caelian,” he rasps. “I was… I was following orders.”
“What orders would that be?”
“No visitors. You were…” More blood is hacked up. More flecks on my shoes. “You were unavailable.”
“That’s right, I did tell you I’d have no visitors. I said no exceptions.”
His eyes light up and he nods along eagerly to every word. He’s relieved I seem to understand where he was coming from. His hope couldn’t be more misguided.
“Let me get this straight,” I say slowly. “Because you were instructed to deny any visitors that came to see me, you thought it was appropriate to… what?”
He gulps down air. “I was using necessary force.”
“Necessary force against a woman involves crushing her to the ground? A woman of Nevaeh’s size no less. Really?”
“C, you’ve always said to guard your private room against intruders—”
“You would categorize Nevaeh, the woman Imarried, as an intruder?”
“You said—”
“Shut the fuck up about what I said and tell me what you think!”
He seems to realize he can’t win. Any answer he provides is the wrong answer. He trails off with a blubbering whimper and then bows his head in a plea for forgiveness.
I’m in no mood to be merciful. Not that I ever am.