Chapter 23 What A Despicable Man

I gaped, my face quickly turning crimson. I dared not meet Antonio's eyes, feeling that if our gaze lingered any longer, it wouldn't just be the beef burger getting devoured. Taking a bite of the burger and a sip of the icy Coke, the cold soda slid down my throat and into my body, causing me to shiver with goosebumps. A burp mixed with the taste of Coke and beef escaped me, and oddly, my mood improved, the sadness lessening. I could declare burgers the best food in the world!

Antonio lifted my foot, resting my calf on his thigh. I shrank back, attempting to withdraw. "Don't move!" he warned. Contrary to his harsh words, his actions were gentle as he rolled up my trouser leg, removed my shoes and socks, exposing my swollen ankle under his scrutinizing gaze. I couldn't help but cry out in pain as he grasped my foot, "Don't ... It hurts!"

"You still feel pain?" Antonio snorted coldly, pulling out a newly bought spray from another bag. "I told you, if you dared to run, I'd make sure you could never walk again!" I hadn't forgotten his warning, and fear took hold of me, my foot firmly in his control, fearing he might snap it any moment with a gun or a knife.

Antonio, seeing my frightened expression, skillfully applied the cooling spray, which immediately eased the burning and pain. But then, mischievously, he twisted it a bit.

"Ouch!"

"I'm checking if your bones are damaged, and unfortunately, they are still intact," he remarked. I knew he was doing it on purpose. I was teary-eyed, too scared to retort.

Weak from the pain, I struggled to shift away from him, but Antonio quickly grabbed my foot again, causing me to flinch reflexively. "What are you hiding from?" he asked, his tone deepening. "Nothing," I denied, holding back tears, cursing internally, thinking he must believe I'm made of wood, not feeling any pain.

Antonio scoffed, not wanting to argue further, and arrogantly stated, "I'm hungry." I looked at the last bite of my beef burger, trembling as I handed it over, "Want to eat this?" Truly hungry, Antonio barely glanced up as he leaned forward and finished the burger.

As I was about to toss the wrapper aside, Antonio promptly picked up the falling bag and stuffed it into my arms, pointing at the nearly cold fries, "Feed me." I gazed at his hands, wanting to ask if he was disabled. As if reading my thoughts, he showed me his hands, smeared with ointment and emitting a strange smell, "No place to wash hands."

"There are restrooms in the airport," I muttered, trying to be helpful, though I hadn't washed my hands either. Suddenly, the car dipped slightly as Vincent, who had returned at some point, sat in the driver's seat, closed the door, buckled up, and drove out of the airport parking lot.

As the light inside the car flickered, Antonio's lips curved into a smile, "Not anymore." They were all doing this on purpose! I glared at Vincent, who glanced at the rearview mirror, his tone calm and gentle, "Found your camera."

Antonio poked my ankle with his finger, threateningly, "Feed me." Biting back fear, I opened the bag of fries, picked up a golden, limp fry, and held it to Antonio's lips. The fry touched his lips silently, and he glanced down then looked at me, "Ketchup."

Reluctantly tearing open a ketchup packet, I dipped the fry and held it to his mouth again, "Hurry up and eat!"

"So tough, huh?"

His earlier actions were nowhere near gentle, probably the pain had fueled my resentment, weakening my fear, making my tone harsh, "Eat or not?"

Something in my words made Antonio chuckle deeply, bringing his face closer and taking the fry into his mouth. He didn't stop at just eating the fry; before leaving, his tongue swept over my fingers, sending a tingling sensation through my fingertips to my heart, causing a chaotic heartbeat that filled me with unease.

I jerked my hand back as if electrocuted, too scared to look at Antonio, yet unable to resist stealing a glance at his amber eyes filled with a teasing sparkle. I had been played again!

Frustrated, I slapped the fries against his chest. My embarrassment made him laugh out loud, almost louder than the wind noise from the cars. He tried to pinch my face with his ointment-coated hands, which I dodged disdainfully.

Antonio laughed even louder, remarking, "Ungrateful." I rolled my eyes towards the ceiling, "Talking about conscience with the mafia is incredibly stupid." Antonio looked at mesurprised, not getting angry but instead nodding appreciatively, "I'm glad you're becoming aware, Sienna. You're showing growth, not just naive foolishness."

I crossed my arms, scoffing, "Should I thank you then?"

"Don't mention it," he replied nonchalantly. I wanted to spit at Antonio for his audacity in saying that.

Before I could speak, a hard object pressed against my waist. I looked down, my body stiffening, cold sweat forming instantly.

It was a gun!

Was Antonio done playing with me, now wanting to kill me? My throat felt dry, swallowing became difficult.

"You still have much to improve, Sienna," Antonio said, appreciating my defeated look, his lips curled in a bloodthirsty smile. "Now, tell me, why did you come to Philadelphia?"

"I..." Should I tell him the truth? The thought appeared in my mind for a split second before I dismissed it. No, I couldn't trust him not to hurt my mother and Valentina. He could shoot someone in the street at any moment; he was the mafia, and I didn't know how many of his men might be lurking nearby.

I couldn't gamble on his having a shred of decency; he probably didn't even know what innocence meant.