He laughed, the sound booming and careless, filling the room with cold amusement. “And why would I do that when it’s the truth?”
“Because...” My throat closed, words refusing to come. “It isn’t—it’s not true.”
His smile sharpened, eyes flicking to my ring. “I beg to differ. That fucking rock on your finger says differently.”
A flash of last night flickered in my mind—Oliver’s worried face, the taste of wine, bottles of them, the way the walls blurred.
Fear swelled.
“What happened last night?” My voice was barely there, more a plea than a question. Silence stretched, weighted and suffocating.
Massimo’s eyes narrowed, lips curling into a secret. “Don’t try to remember. You’ll only give yourself a bigger headache. Besides, I doubt you’ll recall anything at all.”
His tone was almost gentle, but the threat was unmistakable, and the room seemed to close in, thick with secrets and the cold, relentless certainty of things I could not remember.
Heart pounding against my ribs, I fixed my gaze on him, voice barely more than a trembling whisper. “You... you drugged me.”
Even as I spoke, my hands shook, fists clenched tightly in the sheets, knuckles aching with fear and uncertainty.
Now fully dressed, Massimo walked over and leaned close as I shrank back against the pillows.
He took his time looking at my body as he licked his lips before his eyes found mine and hardened. “Prove it.”
I swallowed hard, searching for something, anything—proof, memory, the truth buried in the haze of last night. But the blankness pressed in, cruel and absolute.
My doubts warred with fury, twisting sharply inside me.
“Why? Why would you do that?” I managed each word, trembling as if afraid to exist.
Massimo’s expression didn’t soften. Instead, he smiled, slow and deliberately, like a man utterly in control. He tilted his head, studying me with cold amusement. “Because I can.”
Chapter Seventeen
Massimo
Smiling with a rare ease, I strode into the dining room. The sunlight glinted off the polished floors as I took in the familiar sight of my brothers gathered at the table. The scent of coffee and sizzling bacon mingled in the air, grounding me in a moment that felt charged with possibility.
“You look happy this morning,” Aurelio teased, wiping his mouth theatrically with his napkin before tossing it onto his lap, as if trying to draw out the secret behind my mood.
“Today is a good day,” I replied simply, my voice carrying a quiet anticipation. As I moved to the buffet, loading my plate with eggs, crispy bacon, and fresh fruit, I caught Emanuelle’s sideways glance. His brow furrowed—concern or curiosity, maybe both.
“Should we be worried?” Emanuelle muttered, not fully directing his question at anyone. “I mean, that is Massimo, right?”
Luca chimed in, half-joking but with a hint of genuine wonder, “When was the last time he was happy?”
Guilio, always the cynic, grumbled as he reached for his coffee. “His sixteenth birthday. Remember? Massimo sweet-talked Alessandra—Don Redolpho’s daughter. She was from that old rival family up the coast. He convinced her to sneak off for a midnight swim. Father made Cesar and me chase them down the cliffs.”
A memory flickered behind Guilio’s words: Alessandra, her laughter echoing over dark waves. Don Redolpho’s influence had always cast a shadow over our own—his daughter off-limits, his family a constant thorn in our side.
I smirked at the recollection, the sense of reckless freedom from those years briefly warming me as I grabbed a napkin and silverware.
“What ever happened to her?” Luca asked, his curiosity genuine.
“She married into the Lugano family,” Cesar supplied, glancing at me as if to measure my reaction. He cleared his throat, nervous energy rippling through him. “So, are you going to explain this sunshine or keep us guessing?”
Sliding into my seat, I felt the weight of their attention. The anticipation in the room was almost tangible, each brother waiting for the punchline. I let the moment stretch, savoring the slow, deliberate sip of dark coffee, feeling its warmth steady me as I prepared to speak.
“Let’s just say I have a feeling today is going to be... interesting.” My voice was low, a thread of excitement woven through the words. My brothers exchanged glances—some skeptical, others intrigued—when suddenly, a sharp sound shattered the mood.
