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"She took him faster than you could say
'sabotage'."
~ Better Than Revenge, Taylor Swift

I showered. It was a long shower. I don't really know what I was washing off. Shame? Regret? For some sick reason, I felt none of those.

I'd taken the hit. I was sated.

For now.

There was an emptiness inside. An emptiness I hadn't felt before Niccolò buried himself inside me. It was hollowing. My hand went to my stomach and I leaned against the wall for support. I couldn't explain this feeling. I wasn't afraid of him—not anymore. He held no true leverage over me. Tyler was gone. He had Milan, but at this moment I couldn't bring myself to care. And if...if he wanted to kill me, then that was okay too.

Tyler's gone.

Maybe that was the emptiness. Maybe it wasn't the sex with Niccolò, but the fact that the person I relied on the most is gone for good. I couldn't wrap my head around the fact that I'd never see his face again.

So I decide not to think about it.

I pulled myself together long enough to get out the shower and get dressed. Combing out my hair was tiring, but I did it anyway, and threw it up in a ponytail. The emptiness was still there. Maybe I could fill it with food.

Milan was in the kitchen when I went downstairs and her eyes followed me as I walked past her and to the fridge. I pulled it open, grabbed the leftover chicken fried rice and moved towards the microwave so I could heat it.

"So you guys are fucking."

I ignored her and set the timer. Was two minutes long enough?

Long enough to heat the container.

I set it to three and a half.

"How long has that been going on?"

I didn't reply. It was none of her fucking business, and to be honest, I had no interest in talking to her about my sex life with Niccolò.

"You're ignoring me now?" I detected the mocking tone in her voice and grit my teeth. Right. I almost forgot how good she was at playing victim. The quiet, sad, pathetic girl she'd been 24 hours ago was gone and the real Milan was back.

"Trying to," I muttered, drumming my fingers on the counter as I waited for the timer to go off.

"You don't think we should talk?"

"About what?"

She shrugged and hopped up on the counter, her leg brushing my hand. I pulled back with a sigh as she raised a brow expectantly. "Come on, Cherry. Obviously we got some shit to work out."

"Don't call me that."

"What, Cherry? You're too good for Cherry now, Neila? That it?"

"I am not in the mood for your games, Milan."

I wasn't. At all. Milan loved games, though.

"I guess I should thank you," she says. "For back there with Alfred."

"How's your...?" I trail off.

"Detached," she laughed and winced. "Shit happens. I've been through worse."

"Than getting your ear cut off?"

She smiled. "You know better than anyone physical torture isn't the way to break a person."

I don't respond. Milan's seen and been through some shit, but it's clear I don't know the half of it. She told me a little about her past, but she never went into depth.

"So what's the deal, Neila? Why am I here? Can I go right now if I wanted to?"

Once again, I don't respond.

She could. She probably wouldn't get far.

She takes a different route.

"Maybe I should fuck him. Find out if he's as good as he sounds."

I try and fail not to tense at her words. "Good luck with that."

"Would it bother you?"

"Is that why you want to?"

"Partly."

"Knock yourself out, Milan. Whores will be whores." For a moment, I wished I could remember the Italian phrase the guy said to me in the car—once a whore always a whore.

She ran a tongue across her lips and looked me over. "Yeah, you're proof of that, aren't you?"

"As I live and fucking breathe."

The timer finally goes off and I immediately open the microwave, grabbing the container without thinking about it. I needed to get away from her.

"Fuck!" I snap loudly, the hot container burning my fingers. And to my luck, it slips from my fingers and crashes to the floor, my food spilling all over. "Fuck!"

She stares.

"What the fuck are you looking at?" I snap at her, my eyes narrowing. "What the fuck do you want? You want to fuck him? Go ahead!"

"Ease up, Cherry."

"I said don't fucking call me that."

Her eyes narrow. "I thought getting dick was supposed to relax you. You're still all riled up. Maybe you need something new?"

Her eyebrows danced suggestively. She was teasing me.

I roll my eyes and snatch the broom from a corner. Whatever guilt I felt for giving her to Niccolò was fading.

As if hearing me say his name in my head, he emerges in nothing but pants.

"Why the fuck are you yelling?" He demanded, eyes flickering between us.

"She spilled her food," Milan pointed at me like a fucking child. Her lips twitched. "And I guess she doesn't like to share."

"I told you," I huffed, sweeping up the last bit of food, "I don't care what you do."

I felt confident in saying that, mostly because I was confident that he wouldn't actually sleep with her. Not in loyalty to me, but just because he wouldn't be interested. She had no problem testing that theory.

"That so? Fine." She hops off the barstool and slinks up to Nic's side, her hand sliding up his bare chest. "Do you want to fuck me?"

His eyes narrowed as he looked between her and I. I look away.

"What?" He repeated.

She leaned in, her lips right by his ear and said something I couldn't hear. I shook my head and finished sweeping. When I was done, I dumped the ruined food in the trash and glanced in their direction.

He had actually paused, as if he were actually thinking about it. Yeah, right.

His eyes slid to mine. We stared at each other, and it was like a whole conversation was going on between us. One without words. I could tell he was still pissed about everything I said. I could tell he was still thinking about it. And then I realized my mistake. I moved forward, ready to cut in, but it was too late.

His lips twitched. He's gonna fucking do it.

He was going to do it to prove a point. He didn't need to fuck me. He could fuck anyone.

My grip on the counter tightened as I watched him slip an arm around her and lead her out the kitchen.

She only looked back once to wink at me.

*****

I could hear them.

She was loud, probably to piss me off. But I knew it was real. Of course it was real. Niccolò's skills were undeniable, and knowing that she was now experiencing them pissed me off.

I wouldn't call it jealousy.

I still hated Niccolò, still wanted him dead for everything. But...there was something. Something more than that. Something I didn't know or understand yet.

His dick was mine. Yeah, that's it. I staked claim. My fucking dick to ride and ruin. I'd fucking ruin him and everything about him.

And I will not let her ruin that.

I ended up outside his door. It was slightly ajar, and I couldn't help but try to peek in. They weren't on the bed. Where the fuck were they, then? The floor? From what I could see, no. I pushed the door open a little more, grateful the doors didn't creak.

And now I could see them. She was on the dresser, legs wrapped around his waist. Her head was tilted back, eyes closed as she moaned loudly. His lips were wrapped around her nipple as his hips thrusted towards hers.

"Yes," she hissed, biting down on her lip. I felt my neck grow hot in annoyance. Her eyes opened suddenly and locked on mine. Still biting her lip, her mouth stretched into a smile.

I rolled my eyes. Turning, I go back to my room, slamming the door.

I walk over to the desk, where I'd  left Tyler's note, and pulled it open. But it wasn't there. I momentarily panicked. Immediately, I was digging through things, pushing shit aside. Hadn't I left it there? Where the hell is it? Where the hell is it? What the f—

But my eyes landed on the paper, sitting on my bed. I knew I hadn't left it there. Which only meant one thing.

Milan.

Milan saw it. She read it.

I know this because you have done everything for me, including giving Milan up to set me free. And I know you think you were doing the right thing.

That's why she's fucking Nic. She knows, and she wanted to get back at me.

"Oh shit!" She screamed from his room.

I grit my teeth.

Milan wasn't any kind of bitch. She was a persistent one. She wasn't finished.

My eyes caught on to another section of the letter.

You said you have something planned. I hope you know what you're doing. Don't get yourself killed.

She's seen that too. My heart quickens it's pace. Fuck. She knows I'm planning something. There was no guarantee she wouldn't tell Niccolò, but a part of me knew she was smarter than that. She's going to use it against me.

Which makes her a threat.

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