Having him look at me after all the things that transpired between us is not something I want to encounter first thing. Or ever.
I mentally roll my eyes at my childish thoughts, knowing very well I can’t avoid him forever. My gratefulness at having this reprieve, a little time of peace to myself, is warranted. I stretch as much as my bonds will allow, and the soreness that greets me in various parts of my body has me frowning. Maximus didn’t do any permanent damage to me physically, but my emotional state…well, that’s another issue entirely.
How could I enjoy the things he did to me? His hatred of me is abundantly clear, yet by the end of the night, I leaned into his touch and ached for it whenever it left my skin. And not only that, but the pleasure derived from his hands still baffles me as much as the way I responded. Medical textbooks leave much to be desired in the way of true information. There was nothing clinical about what I experienced with my husband.
I harbor no illusions I’m his wife in the true sense, and I wish he’d tell me what his plans for me are. Being locked up again, as opposed to being his plaything to torture, should be preferable. It really should. But I felt alive for the first time in years. To become the sole focus of someone powerful is addictive to me, after having been denied any attention in a long while. I hope it fades, just like I hope Maximus’s interest in me dwindles, but what if it doesn’t? What if he rewires my brain to the point I’m dependent on him?
Shuddering at the thought, I release a breath. I can’t believe he overrode the majority of my abhorrence to physical touch in less than a day. There’s a part of me that thinks my subconscious still views him as the young man who called me his sunshine girl.
Ragazza solare.
I remember that moment as if it were yesterday, probably because it was one of the most thrilling days of my life. When I was about eleven years old, Maximus caught me staring at him in the hotel’s arboretum after I’d evaded my governess, who was supposed to watch me while my father attended the gala. Maximus and I engaged in a rather unorthodox conversation. Which consisted of me having him promise to marry me someday if no one else wanted to because of my unruly behavior. He agreed, much to my delight, and also escorted me back to my caretaker, who’d filled my head with tales of beautiful men with angelic blood running through their veins. When I grew older, I learned it was the Silvestri family she’d been speaking about.
And he is indeed attractive, more than any man has a right to be.
Is that why I’m drawn to him? After a deep internal assessment, I know it’s only part of the reason. I can’t fully reject Maximus from my psyche, because I’ve experienced the good in him. That is what pulls me to him, the glimmer of hope that’s still there underneath his hard exterior. He protected me from the kinds of men my father would later on subject me to at the bridal auction, hosted by the Wolf Pack on neutral ground. I never understood why he’d taken me there that night, but I highly suspect it was to upset my mother. She knew I’d be in danger while my father sought out a mistress.
May Alfonso Caruso burn in hell for the things he’s done, including the murder of my mother.
Maximus may want to kill him but not more than me.
The door opens, and I jerk up my head as my entire frame tenses. In walks the housekeeper, Rosetta. I didn’t catch all of her conversation with Maximus, but their interaction revealed a lot to me. From the way he treated her to the way she spoke candidly to him led me to believe they are very comfortable with each other in a familial way. Also, her usage of Italian makes it obvious that’s her original language, and as much as I miss it, I don’t want anyone to know I speak it, along with French, fluently. It’s the only advantage I have in this situation, and I’m going to keep it secret for as long as I can.
“Good morning,” Rosetta says.
“Good morning.” My voice cracks, no doubt from a parched throat but also because of my screaming from pleasure last night. The very idea that she, or anyone else in the house, heard me is humiliating. A blush stains my cheeks with heat, and it intensifies when she walks over to untie my bindings.
I peer up at her while she works. Her expression is purely professional and gives nothing away. However, I can’t find any disgust or disdain in her caramel gaze. Not that it matters, but it’s nice to not receive judgment, especially when I have no say in what’s transpired.
“There.” She clicks her tongue at the red lines on my wrists, and the wrinkles by her eyes deepen. “I’ll give you an ointment after you shower. Come along.”
Eager to be clean and wash away any remnants of last night from my body, I shove aside my embarrassment at being nude and slide from the bed. A wave of dizziness swamps me, and I press my fingers to the center of my forehead to be rid of it. My father may have kept me prisoner, but he made sure I was fed in a timely manner, unlike Maximus.
“All the saints above.” Rosetta hurries over to me and takes my shoulder to gently set me down on the edge of the bed. Her ire is present in the furrow of her brow and from the thinning of her lips, but it’s most prominent in her rapid Italian. “Shit! That boy, for all his intelligence, doesn’t use the sense our creator gave him. To leave this poor girl in such a state is a sin against heaven. He better change his ways or I’ll tell Father Aldo. His penance won’t be as much as I’d prefer, but there’s only so much a man of God can do.”
If it weren’t for the pounding of my head, I’d laugh. That is not what I expected. Well, nothing has been predictable, but her insulting Maximus is by far the least likely thing I would’ve thought to hear. However, her tone tells me all I need to know: she loves him in a motherly way. And she has a tender heart for her to fuss about my condition, knowing I’m his enemy.
“Relax,caro.”
Recognition almost flits across my features at the term of endearment. I don’t believe she really thinks I’m dear to her like the word implies, but it’s still better thanwhore. I use my free arm to cover my breasts to maintain some sort of decency and then tilt my head to appear confused. It doesn’t matter because she’s already striding in the opposite direction, her steps full of purpose. Within minutes, she returns with a tray of food and sets it beside me.
“Eat slowly and stop just before you feel full,” she says in English. Then she hands me a glass of orange juice and two capsules. “Something for your blood sugar and your headache.”
Since I didn’t see where the medication came from, I only take the juice. She’s obviously trying to help me, but I can’t make myself take the pills. I down the contents of the glass and sift through my breakfast of eggs, fruit, and toast. Rosetta stands beside me the entire time without rushing me. As strange as it is to have someone in my personal space for an extended period, I find her presence comforting. I think it’s because of the way she’s fussing over me. It reminds me of my mother, not that it’s Rosetta’s intent, but I feel it anyway.
“Nothing but water for the remainder of the day,” she instructs as she helps me stand. “The color is returning to your face, but your skin still looks pale. You’ll be back to normal soon.”
Normal. Do I even know what that is? No. Especially not now.
Rosetta rattles off a set of instructions, which consist of me showering, shaving, and brushing my teeth and hair. She has the forethought to set all the essential items on the countertop for me and informs me she’ll return shortly and that I’m to be done by then so she can tend to my hair.
“Yes, ma’am,” I say.
She chuckles and tucks a stray lock of gray hair behind her ear. “Caro, I serve the Silvestri family, and that extends to you now. Please call me Rosetta, not ma’am.”
I give her a half smile, which is not much. Then I close the door and purse my lips in thought. She either doesn’t truly understand who I am to Maximus, or she doesn’t care. I puzzle over this as I shower, but I keep my time short. Just knowing this is where he bathes daily, where he’s naked on a consistent basis, is enough to propel me to move quickly. Even so, my mind conjures images of his body, and I squeeze my thighs at the treacherous ache between my legs.
Feeling refreshed after the shower and seeing to my other hygienic needs, I hold up the outfit Rosetta left for me. And then I blink at it. A few times. This can’t possibly be meant for me. It’s a knee-length deep-wine-colored dress with an elegantly pleated waist and long sleeves. I lightly sweep my fingertips over the soft material and then the diamond earrings right next to it. The only time I ever wore something this nice was when I went to the gala, and that’s nothing to reminisce over.
