I wear his name like a scar.
Alessandro Rossi stole everything from me; my freedom, my future, the lie I told my father to keep him alive. He thinks I'm a tool to be used, a bride to be displayed, a Fraga to be broken. He thinks the ring on my finge...
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The first true bite of winter sharpened the air, a cold front settling over the city. I pushed open the balcony door and breathed in the crispness, stealing a moment of quiet before the day began.
My gaze fell on the couch where Alessandro supposedly slept. It was always like this, remade to perfection like he was never there at all. Every morning I woke up and he was already gone. I didn't know when he got up or even when he went to bed. Maybe I was a heavy sleeper, or maybe he just moved around like some ghost, silent and stealthy and impossible to pin down.
I stepped into the closet and peeled off my pajamas. A row of more new clothes waited on hangers, pieces I never asked for but that he had chosen anyway. My fingers lingered on a long, black turtleneck dress, and I was still deciding when I felt it.
Eyes on me.
I turned. Alessandro was perched on the edge of the bed, still, watching. No words, just that half-smile that crawled under my skin and stayed there. The realization hit hard. He'd been there the whole time.
Heat rushed to my face. Fury knotted in my chest. I grabbed the dress, yanked it over my head with jerky movements, and marched out of the closet ready to unload on him.
"So closed doors just aren't a thing for you, huh?" I snarled, feeling heat rush to my face. "Or is basic decency not part of your skill set?"
He rose slowly, his towering height pressed against the space between us. "It's my house. You'll adapt. I won't."
I laughed. "Adapt to what? You being an asshole? You having the emotional range of a brick wall?" The words came fast and cutting. I wanted them to land. "I don't think you'd recognize respect if it hit you in the face."
The smirk fell off his face. What replaced it was harder, meaner. He grabbed my arm and pulled me against him, and every instinct I had screamed at me to flinch, but I locked my body down. No way I was giving him that.
"What do you want?" he growled.
"You want the honest answer?" I stared right into his eyes and didn't blink. "Anything but you. That's what you keep hoping I won't say, right?"
"Then you're going to be disappointed for a very long time."
His grip tightened. My back hit the wall.
He leaned in so close his breath brushed my cheek. "You're scared," he murmured, his eyes scanning mine like he was digging for something. "I can feel your heart racing."
His thumb dragged across my bottom lip, and I couldn't stop the fear that gripped my chest. I hated that he could feel it. I hated that he was right.
"Where's that fire now?"
"Saving it," I managed, my voice filled with rage. "You're not worth the burn."
He chuckled, dark yet genuinely amused, that twisted half-smile creeping back. "You've got teeth, princess. Let's see how long before I pull them."
