BlackHeart

Chapter 74 (Dom's POV)

(TWO WEEKS AGO...)

        Time has never gone slower in my entire life. I was gonna go fucking mental if something didn't give. The anger I felt when I stretched my arms in my sleep to find Mia's body...and all I found left were cold sheets. That anger, it's still lit inside me and I can't put it out. This feels like that first month all over again when I had to find out from fucking Riccardo that Mia moved to Paris. That anger that burned my gut and seared my chest until I just snapped and bought the next flight out to Paris. It's that anger that's back.

        I sat at this local bar in Little Italy with my elbows leaning against the sticky counter. I waved the old man down who owns this place, to pour me another. "Domani, are you here alone tonight?" The old man asked me in Italian. I gave him one curt nod. He took my short glass and tipped the bottle, pouring the amber liquor into it again. "You want peanuts or something?" The old man looked me up and down, but didn't dare ask me why I was half drunk leaning on his bar, instead of one of my own. I put my hand up letting him know I didn't want the peanuts. Another patron called down to him and he hobbled down to the other end.

There's no particular reason why I chose this bar out of all the bars. I was just closest to this one and I walked inside. Same waxy floors and high top tables as any other bar in Little Italy. Still a mini Italian flag hanging behind the bar. Everyone knows me in this area, so it doesn't matter where I go. Somebody will know my name. 

        I don't want nobody talking to me. It's why I'm not at one of my establishments. I'm sick of fucking people. I picked up my short glass and brought it to my lips, but some idiot next to me bumped my elbow. A few drops of liquor dripped onto my lap. I glanced down at it, and back up at the man. Not Italian. Probably a tourist. "Aye," I called out to him. The guy was one of those beefy idiots. His V neck shirt was too low, and his actual neck looked lost to his steroid looking muscles. "You just made me spill on myself," I glanced down at my gray slacks and back to the man again.

"It's a drop pal," the man patted me on the back, ready to turn to his friends, and maybe a girlfriend. Some chick was on his arm. I licked my teeth and called him again," Aye."

        I don't know who noticed first, but I saw the old man leaning over the bar telling the tourist to keep his mouth shut. The guy didn't understand what he meant until I called him again, and he turned around. "You're not gonna apologize? I just told you, you bumped into my fucking arm and made me spill on myself," I spelled it out for him again. The tourist bulked up his chest to look bigger. He's 5'8 at best. It's always the little ones. I was on a stool, so the height difference wasn't obvious right now. It got the attention of his friends when I spoke to him for the second time. They peeked over his shoulder to see who he was talking too.

        "It's a fucking drop, dude" he dismissed me. "A drop," I licked my teeth again. "Domani, he-don't know no better," the old man called out to me. I took the rest of my glasses contents and swallowed it. Enjoying the burn that slid down into the fire that's already searing me inside. The tourist kept his chest puffed out to see if I'd challenge him again after I repeated his own words to him. "Here's one fucking drop," I snapped. I took the glass in my hand and smashed it against his beefy head.

The girl with him screamed and his other buddies started getting up and tryna crowd me while the beefcake dropped like a sack of potatoes. I know where to hit a man to knock him out. Years of practice.

"HEY," one of the friends tried grabbing me. He was also probably 5'8 at best. I stood up in the blink of an eye. The man's head shot back to see my 6'3 frame coming for him. "Shit," I heard someone say. The guy tried grabbing my suit, I grabbed his stupid v neck and head butt the asshole in the face. Blood turned on like a faucet.