"What doyou mean youneedto get her pregnant?" Maman Margot asks, scandalized.
I grimace as I think of a way to explain this to her without seeming like the worst cad.
"She needs a reason to stay," I add rather weakly.
The aftermath of my atrocious behavior and her poisoning hadn't gone too well. I've become obsessed with keeping her safe—tucked away from the world so that no one can harm her, but also so that no one can steal her from me.
I'd started small. In the beginning, I simply stopped her from going outside, even with her bodyguards. Seeing her crouched on the floor in pain and bloodied had done a number on me. I'd suddenly started having recurring visions of her getting into a car accident or, worse, getting killed by a madman.
The visions had turned into nightmares, and I started barely sleeping for fear something might happen to her and take her away from me.
I'd installed cameras in the entire house, alternating my time between necessary business meetings and watching her.
She'd sensed the change in me and had become even more withdrawn.
I'm loath to admit it, but the hate I'd instilled in her might have started to fester… and I only have myself to blame.
"What do you mean I'm not allowed to goanywhere?" she'd asked, outraged, when I'd refused to allow her to go to the grocery store.
"It's dangerous," I'd lied to her, even though I'm well aware the danger isonlyin my paranoid mind.
"What's wrong with you?" she'd whispered, her eyes filled with hurt.
"I'm just looking out for you," my reply had had no effect on her, and since then our conversations have become more and more strained.
It's only at night that we seem to get along, and it had been entirely surprising that she hadn't rejected my advances—all things considered.
Faced with the evidence of what I'd done to her, I'd been wary of even going anywhere near her. But one night, when I'd had slightly too much to drink, I found myself knocking on her door.
I hadn't been drunk enough tonotremember it the next day, and I'd savored the feel of her in my arms, the way her expression changed in a moment of pleasure.
But as much as I'd started feeling more confident about our relationship, outside the bedroom the situation had worsened.
"So what," she'd arched an eyebrow at me, "just because I'm a woman I can't enjoy sex? I need to get at least something out of this relationship… if you can even call it that," she'd rolled her eyes at me.
"So that's it? You're just using me?" I'd been rather taken aback by her comment.
She'd shrugged. "You can't offer me anything more than a good fuck, Enzo. Let's not kid ourselves that there's anythingdeeper to what we do. We fuck. Hard, fast, like animals. There's nothing tender or loving about it," she paused, studying my reaction. "And I'm perfectly fine with that. I don't think you have it in you to give me more." With a friendly slap on the shoulder, she'd gone to the bathroom, leaving me alone in bed, staring at her retreating figure. She'd taken my words from before and twisted them—and I'd realized just how it felt to be on the receiving end of such mockery.
It was at that moment that I knew just how wrong our relationship had become. She even stopped arguing with me, and the apathy was killing me.
And so our strange dynamic had persisted—at night we'd find pleasure in each other's arms, and during the day we'd ignore each other.
For a month now, though, Allegra has become more secretive than usual. So I snooped in her diary—again.
But what I'd found shook me to the core.
My little tigress was planning to leave me. She'd made detailed plans, keeping track of the change of guards and the schedule of buses at the nearby station. She'd been extremely thorough in her observations, and I knew it was just a matter of time before she executed her plan perfectly—leaving me forever.
"Enzo…" Maman Margot shook her head at me, and I could see the disappointment in her eyes. "What did you do?"
"I just need her to stay," I repeated, a hint of desolation in my voice.
I know I could lock her up, isolate her even further than I already have. But that would make her hate me even more.
And now more than anything I want hernotto hate me.
No, I need her to want to stay of her own volition. And I know a child would be the perfect reason for her to stay.
