“You’re right about that,” he said. “I’m a violent man, and I come from a long string of violent men. My father beat me and sodomized me whenever he drank, and he drank all the time. My uncle also beat me and sexually assaulted me. Worse than that, he turned me into a killing machine. I finally got out from under him and switched to illegal brothels, pimping underaged girls. When I got enough money from that, I clawed my way up to this setup. Now I run a legitimate business. I’m a regular tax-paying citizen. This may not be your idea of a respectable profession, but from where I started, it’s pretty high on the food chain.”

“And the point is …?”

“The point is I’m still a product of my upbringing, and when I get these unstoppable urges, if you’d just wait it out, give me my five to ten minutes of whatever I want, afterward I’m mush. I’ll do anything you want. I don’t understand why that’s so difficult.”

“How did you feel when your father raped you? Did you give him his five minutes?”

He turned me around so we were face-to-face. “I was eight when it started, and he wasn’t mush afterward. There was a reason I tried to off myself as a kid—twice.” He was quiet. Then he exhaled. “What can I do to make it right?”

“Stop raping me.” Silence. “That’s never going to happen.”

He said, “I rescued you, I nursed you back to health, I provide you and Juleen with shelter. I’m educating your daughter. I swore to you that I will do everything possible to get your son back, and you know it’s costing me. I’m also paying for your divorce. I’ll buy you a house, I’ll buy you a car, I’ll pay for your kids’ education, I’ll give you money for expenses and frivolities and for whatever you want … Just what am I getting out of this deal?”

I didn’t answer him.

“I am doing everything in my earthly power to make you happy, Teresa. All I’m asking for is a little understanding when I get in these moods. Don’t take it personal.”

“How should I take it, Donatti? Like one of your sex workers? It’s just sex, and I’m getting paid so shut up?”

“Stop it, Teresa. You are not one of my sex workers, you are my queen. I’m still the king—whatever the king says is still law—but trust me, no one likes it when the queen is unhappy, least of all the king.