Love Is A Different Currency

"Who let you in?"

"Nico, of course! Did you really think—"

I cut her off, my voice quiet but absolute. "There is only one mistress of this estate. And it is me."

Bianca flinched at my tone but quickly regained her bravado, puffing out her chest. "You wouldn't dare touch me. Nico said he let you off easy last night. If you do anything to me again, he'll throw you out of this house himself!"

A cold laugh escaped me, and I saw her shiver. I rose, drew the gun from my hip, and racked the slide in front of her.

"Touch you? Far too much trouble."

I lunged, my hand clamping around her throat, and slammed her down onto the sofa. Amidst her frantic scratching and muffled screams, I didn't aim the gun at her head. I shoved the barrel violently into her mouth. The cold steel pressed against the root of her tongue. Her terrified whimpers and gags filled the room as saliva dribbled onto the expensive leather.

Paralyzed with fear, Bianca went limp, her face a blotchy red.

"The glass she touched," I said to Dmitri without turning. "It's contaminated. Get rid of it." He nodded instantly.

I leaned close to Bianca's trembling form, my lips brushing her ear. "The last person who was this arrogant with me was named Silvio. Last night, I crippled one of his hands. If you doubt me, I have no problem arranging a meeting with your maker."

Straightening up, I pulled out my phone, dialed Nico's number, and put it on speaker.

"You have ten minutes to get your woman and her trash out of my house. If she’s not gone when the timer runs out, you can start planning her funeral."

Eight minutes later, the shriek of tires echoed from the driveway.

Nico burst into the room with his most trusted Capo, his face thunderous. When he saw Bianca collapsed on the floor, drool and tears streaking her face, and the disheveled sofa behind her, his anger flared.

Seeing Nico, Bianca scrambled into his arms as if he were her savior, sobbing, "Nico, she… she tried to throw me out! She used a gun… I was so scared…"

Nico muttered reassurances to her, then his sharp gaze snapped to me. "Anya, what the hell is this? I warned you last night! Bianca is still weak!"

I remained on the sofa, unmoving, merely lifting my head to meet his furious glare with an unnerving calm. "The meaning? I thought I was perfectly clear on the phone."

My indifference enraged him further. "This is my house, Anya! I am the Don! You don't make the decisions here!"

A bitter, humorless laugh escaped my lips. I remembered the first time he brought me here, his voice electric with excitement. Anya, this is our home. You are the mistress of this house! And now, he wanted me to let his whore move in.

I stood. "Your house? I think you've forgotten, Nico, whose name is on the deed. Or who controls the offshore accounts you use for laundering."