Like Father Like Son

Richard's POV

The moment I step into my mansion, I feel it; the storm brewing, waiting for me.

Antonella stands in the middle of the room, with her arms folded, and fire burning in her eyes. She's not holding Isabella this time, which means she has both hands free to throw at me if she gets reckless enough. Not that I'd let her.

"Where the hell were you last night?" she seethes. "I waited for you, Ricardo. Even if you told me you weren't coming I still waited like a fucking idiot. I waited for you to come home, but you never did!"

I exhale, dragging a hand down my face. I do not have the patience for this. Not today. Not ever.

I don't stop walking. I don't even look at her. I shrug off my jacket, tossing it onto the couch, ignoring the accusations flying at my back.

"Where the fuck where you last night Ric?!" She yells, stepping into my path with her small frame. I brush past her, making my way towards the stairs. I'm done here.

She steps in front of me again, blocking my way like she actually thinks she can keep me here. "No, you're not walking away from this. Not this time."

She's seething, her breathing is ragged, but I still don't care. Not even a little.

"Everything my father said was fucking true."

I stop mid-step.

Her voice cracks but that doesn't stop her. "You are the fucking devil's son. Self-centered, selfish, egoistic." She throws her arms up and in one breath, she says with resentment. "And do you know what confuses me the most? You last no longer than a fucking chilled Capri-Sun on a hot sunday afternoon, yet you have the nerve to act like you're some kinda god."

Her words hit me hard in the gut and my jaw clenches so hard I feel my molars grinding. I'm inches away from knocking her teeth out. My hands itch for it. They practically beg for it.

I need to put her in her place, but my father's voice echoes in my head.

Never lay your hands on a woman, Ricardo. There are other ways to teach her a lesson.

Antonella doesn't stop there. No, of course she fucking doesn't.

"You used to fuck me twice a day," she says. "One would think I let you do it because I enjoyed it, but I didn't." Her voice carries disgust, like she's repulsed by the very thought of me. "You cum too fucking fast. You don't care about satisfying me. It's almost like you just want to make fucking babies. E' fatto!" (That's all)

She turns, ready to leave. Big fucking mistake because I yank her back hard, slamming her into me. One hand grips her waist, the other clamps around her jaw, and my fingers dig into her skin as I tilt her face up to mine.

I shake her jaw as I speak, with a low and deadly tone. "That's what you think of me?"

Antonella doesn't cower. She meets my glare, and then, before I can even react, she spits in my face. It is warm, wet and disrespectful.

Yet I don't flinch. I don't react. But inside? Inside, I'm fucking raging.

I wipe my cheek slowly, but my grip on her jaw tightens afterwards. "You fucking ungrateful ass bitch."

She sneers, but I don't let her speak.

"Have you forgotten who I was when we first met?" I say. "Now, all of a sudden, I'm a two-minute man?"

I release her jaw just enough for her to respond, but I keep her close. I want her to hear every fucking word I have to say.

Antonella lets out a bitter chuckle. "Mio Dio."

She lifts her chin, meeting my glare without fear. "I was sixteen when we met, Ric," she says. "Even then, I knew that's not how sex was supposed to feel."

"You unzipped your trousers, looked me straight in the eyes, and asked if I wanted to see what a god's dick looked like." She laughs, shaking her head. "Che barzelletta." (What a joke!)

I scoff, my jaw ticks. Fine. She wants to throw insults? She wants to humiliate me? Two can fucking play at that game.

"You asked where I was last night," I say, as my lips twist into a tight smirk. "I feel I owe you that answer, principessa."

I lean in, letting my words slice deep. "I was with a woman. Younger, hotter, better looking." I watch as her jaw clenches. "I fucked her hard and fast. It was lengthy—good sex."

"Maybe…" I tilt my head as my smirk widens. "Maybe you were the problem. Maybe I just didn't like fucking you."

Before I know it, SLAP! And it comes fast and hard.

My head jerks slightly to the side from the impact. My cheek stings. But when I turn back to her, I'm beyond furious.

"How dare you, Ric?" she says with a shaky voice. "How fucking dare you? I am the mother of your two kids, yet you shame me like that?"

Tears gather in her eyes now, but I don't fucking care.

I step closer. "How dare I?" I say. "How dare I? Sweetheart, you started this argument."

I mimic her voice with sarcasm. "Everything Inzaghi said was true."

I continued. "And we both know he said that out of nothing but jealousy."

Antonella scoffs. "You're trying to make me eat my words," she accuses. "Trying to make me regret what I said. But I never will. Over my dead fucking body!"

Before I can respond, the door suddenly opens up. And both of us freeze.

Standing in the doorway is Gianna; my eldest daughter, only eight years old, with her big brown eyes wide with fear. And beside her is the nanny, staring at us, utterly horrified.

Antonella is the first to see them, realizing what we must look like—two monsters, screaming at each other.

I exhale, running a hand down my face as the nanny stutters, "S-sorry, I just—Gianna wanted to say goodbye before school…"

"Let's go, sweetheart," she whispers to Gianna, gently nudging her back towards the door.

Gianna doesn't move right away. She just stares at us. At me. I see the fear in her eyes, the hesitation, the worry.

Fuck.

Antonella sighs, wiping her tears as she looks at me one last time. Her voice drops, but the hatred remains.

"Award for the worst father of the year goes to you, Ricardo Borrelli. First son of Simeone Borrelli."

I clench my jaw as my fists tightens. Then, she delivers the final blow.

"My father was right," she whispers. "Like father, like fucking son."

Her words cut deeper than they should. But I don't let it show. I just stand there, silent, as Antonella turns and walks away.

This time, I don't stop her.