Farfalla

5.) La Practica

"Agreed." His throaty voice washes over me, sending another shiver down my spine. My heart beats out of my chest. I feel like I just sold my soul to the devil. Then I realize that he is the devil.

I wipe my sweaty palms on Adriana's yoga pants and realize that I haven't eaten in days. Right on cue, my stomach growls. The embarrassingly loud noise echoing off the cold walls.

Vincenzo scolds me, "If you would have behaved earlier like a good girl then you wouldn't be hungry right now. Stand up. Let's go. You will eat and then sleep. Tomorrow we begin, you will study your target."

"1, Do not ever try to order me around as if I'm your slave. 2, I don't have a bed time."

He cocks his head, "1, I do whatever the fùck I want-

"So do I." I stare him square in the eye. I'm not backing down from him.

His face transforms in an instant and anger takes over his godlike features. He seizes me by the throat and rams me into the cold wall.

My head slams against the cement wall and I feel like I have whiplash. A gasp escapes my throat and Vincenzo tightens his grip. His eyes are inches from mine. I notice flecks of darker brown and blue.

"I'm tired of your fuckïng mouth. You will not speak to me as if you are the one in charge." He squeezes and I start to see black.

Fuck you. But it sounds more like "fu- goo." I manage a smirk.

"You don't like it do you, puttanâ?" His steel like grip is too tight but before he can put me to sleep I reach with my right hand to grab his penìs and squeeze with a death grip. His eyes widen a fraction before returning to their guarded state.

At that exact moment we both have the same realization. Neither of us are going to back down. I'm going to pass out and he is going to forever have a limp dïck. So we both let go.

He releases my throat and I let go of his dïck. As I reach up to grab my neck, Vincenzo goes to rub his dïck. I realize how much we are alike and it is almost scary.

"You can't control me." I whisper.

"You will learn."

"No. No, I won't."

He steps closer, towing over me. He is failing in trying to intimidate me with his height. "Quit with the games, farfalla. Turn around and put your hands up on the wall. Legs apart."

I'm taken aback, "What?! I am not having sèx with you."

"Don't flatter yourself, puttanâ. You give me erectìle dysfunction. I'm checking you for weapons because it seems my men cannot do their fuckïng jobs."

"I don't have anything."

"I am not a man of many words. I won't say it again. Bend." He flicks his wrist again, displaying the knife.

"Fine. Guess I'm just not in the mood to be sliced today." He stares blankly back at me.

"Come on Vinny, you need to lighten up." I punch him lightly in his solid chest.

"Turn. Bend." He growls.

"If this is how you flirt it's not working. Especially with your erectìle dysfunction and all." I grumble, trying to get a rise out of him.

The blade is against my bruised throat in less than a second. "Looks like I've hit a soft spot, huh? You won't do it." I challenge him.

A wicked grin slowly stretches across his face. "Oh, really?" His wrist angles down and half an inch of my skin breaks. Blood trickles out of the small wound.