THE CONTENT IS INTENDED FOR MATURE AUDIENCES. THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS DEPICTIONS OR STRONG IMPLICATIONS OF THE FOLLOWING:
. DISTURBING CONTENT
. BLOOD
. VIOLENCE
Nathaniel finished discussing the business proposal with the man, patting Nicholas's back, for them to meet their ladies.
"Bro, what are you doing with Bell?" Nathaniel asked, raising his brow at his friend. His friend was a playboy, a great flirt who broke hearts like a favorite thing.
"She intrigues me," Nicholas responded, puffing out the smoke as he took a long drag, staring at nothing in particular. "She makes me crave more and explore what makes her special from the rest."
"If you aren't serious about her, don't lead her on," Nathaniel said while Nicholas stared at him like he had grown another head.
"If ain't serious, I won't fucking bring her here. I ain't —"
"I'm just stating because I won't want anything to make my Angie sad," Nathaniel knew that if Bell got heartbroken, his easily affected wife would be sad and heartbroken, and that would make him unhappy. So, to ensure heartbreak doesn't happen in the future, he should confirm his feelings.
"I know, bro," Nicholas exhaled loudly, dropping the remnant of the cigarette and stepping on it to let the light out. "she fucking drives me insane," he let out, "And damn! She's so fucking stubborn," he pinched his nose frustratedly. "she infuriates me and always test my fucking patience."
Nathaniel chuckled lightly, "where is the fun if you don't chase her."
"Like how you chased your wife." Nicholas rolled his eyes, fucking give a piece of advice that would work with you.
"Every time I think I fucking have her in my grasp, she fucking slip away like into thin air," he brushed his hair with his hand and opened the button of his suit.
"It's funny, though," Nathaniel joked as they walked into the hall. His eyes found his wife, who was nibbling on her food softly with a frown on her face, and saw the empty seats had been filled.
He and Nicholas looked at each other and walked forward but stopped when they heard what the women were saying. Nathaniel rubbed his face, chuckling darkly as he watched those ladies chatter.
Nicholas wanted to step forward, but Nathaniel held it to stop and shook his head for him not to interrupt them for now. He wanted to see Angelina's reactions — would she cry or latch out? Would she walk away or stay? His heart raced in anticipation as he saw the facial expression of Angelina never change.
But why didn't she react? According to the report on Angelina, she was almost fluent in French. She had been taught since secondary school. So why is she not defending? Is she scared? He thought, watching closely for any change in her.
When the ladies asked about her necklace, her response, 'my husband bought it for me,' made Nathaniel groan. Damn! The way 'my husband' rolled out of her tongue was hot. And what immediately came to his mind was, "that's my girl," He wetted his lips and then noticed her gripping the fork tightly when they talked about Bell being homeless.
Bell was oblivious to what they were saying about her; had it been she understood, hell would have broken.
The frown on Angelina's face deepened, but before she could do anything, a woman stood up and defended her.
Angelina didn't care what other people said as long as Nathaniel continued to shower her kisses all over her body, praising her beautiful eyes and calling her Angie every time. What she hated most in her life or always made her snap was when her family was called into an argument or misunderstanding. If there was an issue, she preferred talking to her but calling her family in the matters pissed her off.
Nathaniel nearly came when Angelina said, "et pour correction, ce n’est pas moi qui courais après Nathaniel mais c’était lui. Eh bien, le sentiment de se rendre fous est mutuel." Her French accent was thick and a huge turn-on. Damn! He didn't know a language could be pleasant to ears like that!
(For correction, I wasn't the one running after Nathaniel, but he was the one. Well, the feeling —of driving each other crazy is mutual.)
And another kick from Angelina, which nearly blew his mind, "Même si sa tête est toujours entre mes cuisses, pas la vôtre!" He didn't know Angelina could be naughty like this. Yes! And he fucking likes burying his head in between her legs. That was his haven.
(Even though his head is always between my thighs, not yours.)
Nathaniel strode toward the ladies, and now it was time to be a fucking Prince saving a damsel. His orbs had the dark glint of madness in them as he held the man's hand who wanted to slap his Angie.
"How dare you fucking raise your hand to hit what's mine! My fucking wife!" Nathaniel yanked the man's hand back, making Paul scream in pain and a satisfying grin found its way to Nathaniel's lips.
"Ah!" Paul screeched in pain, feeling his right hand numbed. He grabbed him by his collar and threw a series of punches at his face, making the ladies eyes widen in terror. The ladies weren't given a chance to leave.
Nathaniel didn't need to talk, and he had signed Nicholas on what to do as he dragged Paul outside through the back door with the broken arm. The crowd stared at the scene without saying a thing.
They all know not to offend the two hellbound. They turned their face to do other things. The police department was all wrapped around their fingers like a puppet.
He pulled him to the cold night, opened his car boot, pushed him inside then closed it with a loud bang. Then he walked to Angelina, removed his coat, and dabbed it on her before opening the front door for her.
As they were driving, Angelina noticed they weren't driving to their house vicinity but chose to watch where they were going. Angelina inhaled his cologne, feeling stressed from all that had happened, and her eyes drooped.
When he reached the casino, he turned to Angelina, gently carrying her inside as everyone was staring at who the boss was holding in his arms. When he got to his private room, he put her on the bed, looking at her softly before he caressed her cheeks, making her hum, and opened her eyes.
Angelina rubbed her eyes tiredly, looking around, "where are we?" she asked.
"Somewhere to get justice," he murmured, pecking her forehead. "Let's go, Angie" he pulled her up, taking her to the basement.
The way to the basement was silent as he passed through the dark hallway before stopping at the front of an iron bar; he pushed it open with a creaking sound and entered.
He switched on the light in the basement, and everything was cleared. A beaten Paul was tied to a chair, and he looked to be asleep or fainted. The other ladies' hands were bound, and sellotape was used to muffle their sound.
Angelina looked at Nathaniel to those people in captivity before he grinned and pushed Angelina towards a comfy one-seater couch, making her sit down. "Angie, can you do something for me?" he asked, rubbing her face.
"Yeah,"
"Good," he clapped, "watch my gift for you, and I'll reward you later,"
Nathaniel walked to Paul, yanking his head back, making his eyes fly open and trembling, "How dare you?" His voice boomed out, "don't you know there's no sleep for you" he gripped the hair tighter like he wanted to remove it from its scalp and got his face closer to his.
"I fucking hate it when people don't know their limit," he took a bottle of wine and broke it, which shattered all the floor. "You talk shit about her; you made her agitated. If I fucking kill you guys now, would I be wrong?" he tilted his head, relishing their fear. "Should I cut off the tongue or remove the eyes you used to look at her?" he hummed, shaking his head as the scent of blood made him go crazy, and Angelina being here watching, made his boil buzz with excitement.
He took a wooden plank from his peripheral vision and hit Paul on his legs, making him scream in pain and continuously hitting him. He wouldn't be able to use the legs again. "You want to have her?" he asked. "She's mine!" he growled continuously, liking the scream and breaking sound of their legs. "Mine to touch, mine to look, mine to see, mine to love—Mine!" he bellowed, raised the plank, and whacked it on his head, blood splattered everywhere.
Angelina panicked, touching his hand to stop Nathaniel from hitting Paul again; she hugged him from behind, "please don't kill anyone; I don't want to go to prison, and leave me alone,"
Nathaniel chuckled; it was like his wife didn't know his stance in this fucking corrupt state.
He turned to Angelina, whose face was pale, and patted her head, "I'm not leaving," he reassured.
He left Paul and went to Lisa. He grinned sadistically at her, "who talked about her eyes?" he asked cruelly, staring at a pale Lisa. "ah," I've forgotten you can't talk.
He titled his head, taking a plier from the table, "I could kill for her and die for her. I only have the fucking right to make her sad. It's always like some part of my soul is breaking whenever I see her sadness in her eyes, but you guys decided to make her sad and angry." he placed the plier on her finger and pulled back abruptly, making a nail fall. "Angie getting angry is like a volcano building in me," she removed another nail, blood dripping from her fingers.
He took the bottle of alcohol and poured it on the wound, which made her thrash. He smiled sadistically, his eyes darkened with rage and satisfaction, cracking his muscles as he moved to the next person—Rebecca. He brought out the small knife in his pocket, twirling it in between his two fingers before stabbing her at her thigh, "You talked about my Angel's natural unique eyes when everything about you is fake!" he spoke, touching the tip of the bloodied knife, "your hair, your boobs, your ass, your face—" he smirked cruelly, "But what if I want to make you feel better and natural.. What do you think?" he raised his brow, seeing her shook her head vehemently, tears running down her eyes. "Rebecca, Rebecca, little fake Rebecca," he grinned menacingly, "my mother taught me well not to hit a female, but society taught me otherwise," he enunciated, stabbing her closer to where he had stabbed her before. After satisfying with his creativity—his hand work at the craved word, he wrote with his knife, 'I'm fake.'
"And to the last girl standing—" his excitement was interrupted when he heard a groaning sound from behind; he immediately stopped, looking at Angelina, who puked on the floor.
Angelina felt dizzy. The food she had forced herself to eat earlier made her stomach coiled as she held the arms of the coach tightly. She didn't want to disturb Nathaniel from having fun torturing them—because he was doing it for her.
She couldn't stop herself from puking all that she had eaten earlier. As she tried to stand up and tell Nathaniel to continue, he felt a wave of dizziness washing over her, and her legs got jelly.
Nathaniel quickly caught Angelina's unconscious body, looking at her pale face and white hands. He busted out of the basement frantically, seeing Nicholas at the door. Nicholas gave him time with them before he entered to start his own torture.
Nathaniel carried her to the basement and went to his room, then called the door to check on his wife.