Refusing to show any sign of weakness, I stare him right in the eye.
"What about women?" I ask, a need to rile him up growing inside of me.
"I'm one of the few that doesn't differentiate,darling. If anyone so much as touches you, they will cease to exist. That, I vow." His face twists in a cruel smile, his lips barely a breath away from mine.
"Then why don't you do it? Why don't you sleep with me?" Could I have sounded more pathetic? Still, I need to know…
"Honestly, dear, you'd be a lousy fuck." He smirks, releasing me and getting up, disappearing into the bathroom.
Curiosity satisfied.
I close my eyes, and with a deep sigh, I get up, leaving the room without looking back.
32
ALLEGRA
Weeks passand it slowly dawns on me that Enzoreallydoesn't want anything to do with me. I try to fill my time with meaningful things, but even my outings have become few and far between. I started writing more, and my diary has become a window to my soul. Every little thing that happens finds its way inside.
Lately, it's been mostly my squabbles with Lucia, but as the next event approaches, I can't even muster the strength to fight.
Enzo's birthday is right around the corner, and I've been repeatedly told what an important event it is—that I shouldnotembarrass the family. After the conflict with Rocco, I realized that I'd rather swallow my pride than get anotherdisciplinesession.
And so I'd begrudgingly accepted getting fitted for a proper dress and having my makeup and hair done.
Lucia had been in charge of the details, and while I'd been skeptical about it, with Rocco in her shadow, she hadn't dared do anything unseemly.
"You've never worn makeup before?" The artist stares at mein wonder, and I can only shake my head. She purses her lips, her eyes studying my face.
"Don't worry. I'll make you real pretty," she says before she gets to work. I doubt she can work wonders, but I sit patiently in the chair. I know I've never been blessed looks-wise, so I'm not holding out hope that I'll suddenly become beautiful. I don't think anyone has that type of skill.
It takes well over an hour for her to finish, but then she suddenly tells me to open my eyes and look in the mirror. I do as I'm told, but when I see myself, I can't help but gasp.
"Is that me?" I whisper, my eyes already becoming wet.
Damn! I can't ruin this makeup.
I look up, blinking hard and waiting for the moment to pass.
"This is wonderful," I stare in awe at my reflection. For the first time ever, I see something different. I'm not by any means beautiful—not in the way Gianna Guerra is—but like this, Ifeelbeautiful.
"Thank you," the words pour out of my mouth, and I take the makeup artist's hands in mine, trying to convey just how much this means to me. "Thank you," I repeat, and I feel tears overwhelm me again.
I'm still stupefied by my new transformation as I'm fitted for a dress—a black cocktail dress that,this time, has enough material to cover my skin.
When the dress is also done, the hair is the last stop. But that proves to be a little more difficult as I engage in a heated argument with the hairdresser about the length of my hair. I've never cut my hair before, only trimming it when necessary. The fact that he's insisting on a shoulder-length haircut has me incensed.
"No, no," I put my hands up.
"Yes, yes," he makes fun of me before plopping me in the chair and cutting my hair.
Apparently, Lucia's been very strict with her instructions.
I try not to mourn my hair as I watch it pile on the floor. The end result, though, blows my mind.
Who knew that hair could change my entire look?
I'm back at the house just in time for the celebrations to begin. There's still no trace of Enzo, though.
