Brutal Husband (Brutal Hearts #3)

Chapter 1

1

Rieta

“ R ieta. Rieta . Open this fucking door.”

Nero’s fist thunders on the locked bedroom door, and his beastly roar reverberates through the house. I whimper and back away into the en suite bathroom, watching the bedroom door jump and rattle as my husband pounds away on it. A piece of flimsy wood stands between me and my enraged, six-foot-three, muscular husband. I’m terrified he wants to get his hands around my throat and squeeze .

“Open this door. How dare you do this to your husband!”

There’s an almighty bang, and I hurriedly close and lock the bathroom door. I slide down the tiles and hug my knees, trembling in fear on the cold floor.

“You can’t hide from me forever, Rieta.”

I’m not thinking about forever. It’s doubtful I’ll survive until morning.

“The longer you lock me out, the angrier I’ll be with you. Fucking let me in! ” The hammering reaches a crescendo. There’s a violent whomp, whomp noise, even louder than his fists. He must be kicking the door in, using all the strength in his powerful body.

There’s the sound of wood splintering, a crack, and then a bang as if the door has burst open and rebounded against the wall. A moment of silence follows the chaos while I hold my breath.

The beating starts up again, only now it sounds like it’s right inside my head. Nero is hammering on the bathroom door just a few feet away from me. His anger is so unhinged that it’s bleeding into this cramped room and smothering me.

I’ve never known my husband to fly into a rage like this before. Sometimes he burned hot and intense, but usually, he was cold and withdrawn. Right before he disappeared, he acted so aloof, barely aware that I existed. He hurt me with his rejection, not his fists.

That was before he came back from God knows where believing so many lies about me.

Six months ago, my husband disappeared without warning. No phone calls. No notes. No messages for me or his business associates. I notified the police, but they weren’t interested in devoting time and effort to locating a man they’d wished dead long ago. If Nero had gotten on the wrong side of someone and been assassinated, then good riddance to him.

Because of Nero’s line of work—which is highly criminal—I suspected the worst. A rival syndicate had executed him, or the brother or son of someone he’d killed had taken their revenge by murdering him. Every time a body was pulled from the river, or a burned-out car was discovered in scrubland, I waited for the police to come knocking on my door, but it was never Nero.

My sisters lent me their strength, especially Mia. The Bianchi sisters have bad luck when it comes to vanishing men. Mia’s then-lover, Lazzaro, disappeared right after she discovered she was pregnant, only to reappear suddenly at her side, beaten black and blue with broken bones. He’d been held captive by my uncles on Mom’s orders.

What if Mom had locked Nero away too?

I begged Mom to tell me if she’d done anything to Nero while she swore up and down that she hadn’t. Another scandal was the last thing she wanted after her husband left her for her own daughter. I rarely trust Mom these days, but I eventually gave up suspecting that she had something to do with my husband’s disappearance.

I was left with no trace of Nero. No clues as to his whereabouts.

Then my husband returned out of the blue with no explanation about where he’d been. No acknowledgment that he’d even done anything wrong. He appeared on our doorstep with fresh scars on his body and a newfound energy to rule this house with an iron fist.

To rule me.

Nero used to be a workaholic, but now I’m his single-minded obsession, and the sick thing is, I wished for this. When we were first married, I longed for Nero’s undivided attention. Ours was an arranged marriage, and we only knew each other a few weeks before I was walking down the aisle toward him, clutching a bouquet of happy, optimistic daisies. My name Rieta—short for Margherite—means daisy. Mom said daisies were too ordinary for a high-society wedding, and I should carry roses, but Nero assured me that the day was mine, and I should carry whatever flowers made me happy.

Sometimes he could be tender.

Sometimes.

If I’d known that our wedding day was the last time he would ever smile at me, I would have turned and run out of the church.

The hammering on the bathroom door ceases. I hear Nero take a few deep, angry breaths, and when he speaks, he’s straining with effort to sound normal. “ Cara mia . Let me in. I promise I won’t hurt you.”

I get slowly to my feet. I’ll swim through lava before I open that door. I don’t believe a single word out of his mouth, but I’m sick of cowering in fear. I’ll stand on my own two feet as I talk to him.

“I need you to leave, Nero,” I call, my voice shaking. “Go somewhere and cool off. We’ll talk later.”

I don’t want to talk later. I never want to see this terrifying man ever again. For the months he was gone, my nights were gray with fear and loneliness. I wondered if I’d ever feel warmth again, but that misery was bliss compared to the hell I’m living in now.

“Why should I?” he growls.

“Because I’m afraid of you.”

There’s a moment of silence, and I wonder if I’ve gotten through to him. Then something crashes into the door with full force. Nero has launched his whole body at the door, and he’s ramming it with his shoulder.

“ Rieta, open this fucking door. ”

There’s nowhere for me to run. I press my back against the tiles, watching helplessly as the wood bulges every time he hits it. The door implodes in a shower of splinters, and I shield my face as they rain down around me.

When I open my eyes, Nero is towering over me, fists clenched, biceps bulging in his dress shirt, and the buttons straining across his chest. His dark hair has fallen into his eyes, and his nostrils are flaring.

“Please, don’t,” I beg him, and tears trickle down my cheeks. Both my hands are up to fend him off, but it feels like trying to hold back a hurricane.

A nasty smile spreads over Nero’s face. He takes vicious pleasure in my terror. “Crying, cara mia ? I haven’t even given you anything to cry about yet.”

Nero lunges forward, grabs my wrist, and drags me into the bedroom. I scream and fight him every step of the way. “Let me go!”

“I’m your husband. Why are you avoiding me, Rieta?”

“Get your hands off me.” For days before Nero reappeared, I felt like I was being watched. Since his return, I can’t do anything without his suffocating presence. Being close to Nero makes fear pump through my body. I long for his neglect and coldness.

“I thought you wanted me to come home.” He yanks me closer. “Let me love you, wife.”

He spits wife like it’s a four-letter curse.

“I’ll scream the place down. All the neighbors will hear, and someone will call the police.”

Nero’s eyes narrow, and I realize it was a mistake to threaten him. “You want to fight? You want to test me?”

I hear the fwwp of silk as he pulls one of his neckties off the rack in the closet. Panic flares in my chest, and I try to run for the door, but he grabs me and lashes my hands behind my back. I open my mouth to scream, but he grabs another tie and gags me with it, binding it tight at the back of my head.

With an arm around my waist, Nero pulls me roughly against his body. I can feel the bulge of his cock pressing into my ass.

Nero grasps my jaw and hisses in my ear, “Locking me out of my own house. Avoiding me. Talking about me behind my back. Have you forgotten who your husband is? Do you think you’re another man’s wife? You need reminding who you belong to, my pretty little whore.”