Dirty Moans With My Husband's Father

Episode12

OLIVIA

The brass doorknob violently struck the wall, cracking the plaster. The heavy wooden door flew wide open, letting the harsh corridor light spill directly into the dark guest suite.

"What the f**k is going on in here?!"

Bruno stood in the doorway. His chest heaved with explosive, erratic breaths. His dark eyes darted wildly between me and his father, burning with absolute suspicion and rage.

My blood turned instantly to ice. I violently yanked my skirt down my thighs, my hands shaking so hard I could barely grip the fabric. I stepped quickly away from Antonio, putting two feet of space between us.

"Are you completely insane?" I fired back, raising my voice to mask the sheer, paralyzing terror gripping my throat. "I was looking for my luggage!"

Internally, every alarm bell in my body shrieked. I felt completely, dangerously exposed.

My face was piping hot, burning with a deep, guilty flush. My breathing came in shallow, ragged gasps. Beneath the thin silk of my blouse, my n*****s were completely tight and pebble-hard against the lace of my bra, still aching from Antonio's rough hands. I crossed my arms tightly over my chest, praying the dim lighting hid the obvious physical evidence of my arousal.

Bruno took a threatening step into the room. He pointed a trembling finger at me. "In an empty guest room? In the dark? You think I am a f*****g i***t, Olivia?"

Antonio did not flinch. He did not step away. Instead, he smoothly stepped right between Bruno and me, radiating a dark, overwhelming dominance. He slowly rolled down the sleeves of his white dress shirt, completely unbothered by his son’s manic outburst.

"Watch your tone," Antonio warned smoothly. His voice was low, laced with a dangerous, mocking edge. He didn't deny a single thing. He didn't offer a clean alibi. Instead, he stared down at his son with a predatory smirk. "Your wife was simply feeling a little lost. I was just giving her exactly what she needed. Do you always barge into rooms like a jealous, rabid dog, Bruno?"

Bruno’s face flushed a deep, violent purple. His jaw clenched so tight I thought his teeth would shatter. "Don't play your f*****g games with me!"

"Stop it!" I screamed, entirely unable to handle the lethal tension suffocating the room.

Both men turned to look at me.

"Nothing is happening!" I yelled, dropping my arms and marching straight toward the door. I violently shoved my shoulder past Bruno's chest. "I am leaving. Do whatever the hell you want to each other!"

I walked briskly out into the brightly lit corridor, leaving them behind. A cold, heavy knot of pure dread settled deep in the pit of my stomach. Antonio’s cryptic, deliberate gaslighting was going to get me killed.

I practically ran the rest of the way to my bedroom. I slammed the door shut and slid the deadbolt into place.

My chest rose and fell in rapid, panicked bursts. I dropped to my knees in front of the vanity. My hands trembled as I grabbed the brass handle of the bottom drawer and yanked it open.

My heart completely stopped.

The drawer was entirely empty. I shoved my hands inside, desperately feeling the smooth wooden bottom. Nothing.

"No," I whispered, the word tearing from my dry throat.

I scrambled to my feet and began tearing the room apart. I ripped the heavy duvet off the mattress. I threw the expensive silk pillows onto the floor. I opened my closet, violently tossing designer bags and shoes over my shoulder. I checked under the bed, behind the nightstands, and inside the bathroom cabinets.

The red leather ledger was gone.

A sickening, visceral wave of nausea rolled through my stomach. I gripped the edge of the mattress to keep myself from collapsing.

Someone had been inside my room.

Someone took it.

I immediately walked out and hurried to the estate's security and IT center.

I marched directly up to the main desk. The pale, thin technician jumped out of his swivel chair, his eyes wide behind his thick glasses.

"Signora Romero," he stammered, nervously wiping his sweaty palms on his uniform pants.

"I did not know you returned from America."

"Sit down," I ordered, my voice sharp and entirely uncompromising. "Pull up the camera feeds for the second-floor residential wing. Specifically, the hallway outside my bedroom door."

The technician swallowed hard. He fell back into his chair and quickly typed on his keyboard. A grid of glowing, black-and-white camera angles popped up on the massive main monitor.

"What time frame, Signora?"

"Start from the minute my car left for the airport two days ago," I commanded, leaning over his shoulder. "And fast-forward."

The tension in the freezing room thickened with every passing second. The digital timestamp in the corner of the screen spun rapidly. Hours flew by in mere seconds. The hallway remained completely empty. The sun went down on the footage, turning the feed to stark night vision. The sun came back up.

My stomach churned. The acidic taste of pure fear coated the back of my tongue.

"Stop!" I suddenly barked, slamming my hand down on the metal desk. "Right there. Rewind it."

The technician flinched, clicking the mouse. The footage reversed, jumping back to 9:15 AM yesterday morning.

I stared intensely at the glowing screen. A young woman in a crisp black and white maid's uniform walked cautiously down the hallway. She held a stack of clean towels. She stopped directly in front of my bedroom door, looked over her shoulder, and quickly slipped inside.

Ten long minutes passed on the timestamp.

The door opened again. The maid stepped back out into the hallway. The towels were gone, but the front pocket of her white apron bulged significantly with a heavy, square object.

Rage, hot and blinding, instantly burned away my terror.

"Zoom in on her face," I hissed.

The technician clicked a button. The grainy image enlarged, clearly showing the sharp features and dark hair of the girl.

Maria.

That was all I needed.

I hunted her down like a predator tracking bleeding prey.

I found Maria in the ground-floor laundry room, pulling fresh sheets out of a massive industrial dryer. The room smelled strongly of bleach and hot cotton.

She turned around, jumping slightly when she saw me standing in the doorway. "Signora! I—"

I crossed the room in three rapid strides. I grabbed her by the lapels of her uniform and slammed her back against the hot metal of the dryer. The heavy thud echoed loudly in the small room.

"Where is it?" I demanded through gritted teeth, my face inches from hers.

Maria’s eyes widened in genuine panic. " Where's what? I don't know what you are talking about."

"You went into my room yesterday morning," I spat, tightening my grip on her collar. "You took a red leather book from my vanity drawer. Where the f**k is it, Maria?"

"I didn't take anything!" she cried, shaking her head frantically. Tears welled up in her dark eyes. "I just went in to change the towels! I swear to God, Signora, I didn't take y-your book or anything!"

The blatant lie absolutely infuriated me. My blood boiled. I had just watched the video evidence with my own eyes.

"You filthy liar," I snarled, entirely losing my temper. I grabbed her left hand, twisting her wrist sharply until she cried out in pain. "I will break your f*****g fingers one by one. I will have the guards throw you out into the streets. Tell me who you gave the ledger to!"

"I am the one you have a problem with."

The dark, familiar voice echoed from the hallway right behind me. It was lethal. It was completely calm.

I froze. The violent anger drained from my body in a single, terrifying second. I slowly released Maria's wrist and turned around.

Bruno stood in the doorway of the laundry room.

He wore a dark suit, his hands resting casually at his sides. He looked completely different from the manic, screaming man I had left in the guest room ten minutes ago. His face was entirely blank. His dark eyes were dead, devoid of any warmth or humanity.

"Get out, Maria," Bruno ordered coldly, his gaze never leaving my face.

The maid burst into tears. She scrambled away from the dryer, practically running out of the room to escape us.

The heavy silence crashed down the second we were alone. The loud, rhythmic tumbling of the dryer next to me sounded like a countdown timer.

Bruno slowly stalked into the room. He closed the door behind him with a soft, final click. He took deliberate, measured steps toward me, backing me up until my spine pressed hard against the warm metal machine.

He stopped right in front of me. A terrifying, murderous glint flickered deep within his empty eyes.

Then he slowly reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket. He pulled out the worn, red leather ledger.

My heart flatlined.

Bruno held the book up between us. His voice was a quiet, deadly whisper that chilled me straight to the bone.

"Give me one good reason, Olivia, why I shouldn't kill you right this second."