My Fiancé’s Mistress Called Me A Bitch

I turned to leave.

Another second looking at that trash would have been an insult to my own eyes.

“Stop!”

Bianca’s shrill voice cut through the air behind me.

With Marco there, her courage had swelled to stupidity.

She charged at me, her long, diamond-encrusted nails aimed for my face, ready to claw my eyes out.

“How dare you insult Marco! I’m going to rip your mouth off your face!”

Fool.

I didn’t even turn around. I just shifted my body slightly, easily dodging her hand.

Then I swung my own.

SLAP!

The sound cracked through the room. I’d put my entire weight behind it, snapping her head to the side.

Before she could recover, my backhand caught her on the other cheek.

SLAP!

Two slaps. Two perfect, ringing cracks.

Bianca clutched her swelling cheeks, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth as she stared at me in disbelief.

“A lesson in manners,” I said coldly. “When your betters are speaking, bitches like you stay quiet.”

After a dead silence, Marco exploded.

“Fuck!” he roared, shoving his bodyguards aside. “Are you all dead? Take her down! I’ll take the heat for whatever happens!”

Four goons in black suits instantly surrounded me.

I didn’t panic.

The first one reached for me. I dropped low and drove my knuckles into his floating ribs.

Crack.

He folded with a wet grunt.

But I was one woman against four men. And this was Ricci territory.

Just as I was about to deal with the second man, the cold muzzle of a Glock pressed against my temple.

“Don’t move.”

A loaded Glock.

I froze.

The other two goons rushed in, brutally pinning my arms behind my back and slamming me against the cold glass counter.

“Run. Why aren’t you running now?”

Marco walked up, grabbed a fistful of my hair, and yanked my head back.

“This is what happens when you piss off the Riccis,” he snarled, his handsome face now ugly with rage.

Seeing me restrained, Bianca lunged forward like a rabid dog.

“Hold her down! I’m going to kill her!”

She raised her good hand and punched me hard across the face.

Then she started kicking my stomach viciously with the sharp heels of her shoes.

Pain shot through me, but I clenched my jaw and didn’t make a sound.

A Valenti does not beg for mercy from trash.

Ptui.

Bianca spat in my face. The humiliation was worse than the pain.

But that wasn’t enough.

Her eyes fell on a silver letter opener on the counter.

The blade was sharp, glinting under the lights.

Bianca snatched it, her face twisting with sadistic glee.

“You’re so proud of that face, aren’t you? You look down on me?”

She pressed the cold, sharp blade against my cheek.

“Now,” she whispered, her voice giddy with madness, “I’m going to carve the word ‘WHORE’ right on this pretty face. Let’s see who’ll want you then.”

“Do it,” Marco said, lighting a cigarette like he was watching a boring movie. “Just don’t kill her. She’s still useful.”

With his permission, Bianca held nothing back.

She dug the blade in and dragged it down.

Sss—

The sound of tearing flesh.

White-hot pain exploded from my left cheek, spreading through my entire body.

Warm blood gushed out, dripping down my chin and onto the white counter. A shocking splash of red.

“Hahaha! Look at her now! She looks like a monster!” Bianca screamed, waving the bloody knife. “And rip those rags off her! I want to see how this 'princess' looks on her knees!”

Just as one of the goons reached for my coat, the phone in my pocket started ringing.

Bianca snatched it, saw the unlisted number, and sneered.

“Trying to call for help? Too late!”

She hit the answer button and started screaming before the person on the other end could speak.

“Whoever you are, you old bastard, listen up! Your little bitch is with us now! You want her? Come get her from Ricci territory! But you better be quick, or we’re not just gonna strip her clothes, we’re gonna skin you alive!”

With a final shriek, she hurled the phone against the wall.

CRASH.

It shattered, the pieces skittering across the floor.

Bianca turned back, triumphant, ready to continue her assault.

But the phone was dead, and a new voice sliced through the chaos.

It came from the entrance of the store, laced with an authority that stole the air from the room.

“Who is touching my daughter?”

The voice wasn't loud, but it cut through the chaos and silenced the entire store.

“I’d like to see the man with the balls to try and skin me.”