Snapping Point||Book 1

60.

Romano De Rossi

It wasn't me. Romano never expressed his emotions, especially to a woman. This man that had embodied me was a shadow of my younger self—the one who had foolishly believed his cousin had a future with him just because their sex was good and she fit his type, because she had exposed his flaws, made him weak, and made life feel meaningless without her. This was the man who was reckless for a woman, to the point of endangering her life.

Vilma's death had taught me one thing: my fixation on my women only put them in grave danger.

In this Family, you were either married without scandals because your wife was submissive, or married with scandals because she was disgusted by your atrocities—I didn't know where mine stood, but there was never really any middle ground. Why? Because the TIF had rules, and they said time and again that women were a vice, love a weakness. If you wanted your emotional affairs to work, you had to be connected, and if you were connected, you were no more than a fool.

To be honest, I was connected. Had been for weeks now, enjoying what the TIF's teachings denied me to feel. The problem was, I didn't want to face that consequence—being a fool. I had been there with Vilma, been somewhere close to there with Luciana—look how it all ended. One more journey to that place, and I wouldn't just be on a path to self-destruction, I'd take Xenia with me. And her protection was solely on me now; I could fuck it up.

Maybe I had a thing for fixating on what I couldn't have; it always ended with me bathed in their blood as punishment. This time, Xenia would not suffer the same fate as Vilma. I'd make a conscious choice not to let my fear of losing her, like I had with so many others, stop me from feeling this passionate about her.

She'd be different.

She had to be different.

I was convinced but still had doubts. The less I knew about Xenia, the less connected I'd become. I had already made the mistake of having feelings for her; I wouldn't make the mistake of falling for every aspect of her, even though maybe I'd already fallen flatly for the ones still unrevealed to me.

For now, the sex was good, and she fit my type. I enjoyed our time together, craved it, and wanted to be the only man she knew or could entertain. Vulnerability and weakness, for the love of life itself, couldn't be allowed to interfere with whatever was between us.

I had to ensure that. That's why I deliberately avoided asking questions I wanted answers to. I wanted to know everything, but if I dug too deep, I'd ruin myself. I knew there was no way to bring her into my world as I wanted, show her off as she deserved, and have this relationship openly like we both desired, so what would be the point of hoping for me.

She knew this acutely, and that's probably why she always brought it up whenever I made her feel unwanted. I wanted her too much, and that was the problem. I wanted her so much that I overexpressed and underexpressed it, wanted every part of her engaged with me, and was willing to be destroyed if that was the only way. But I cared too much about her to accept that reality.

I was the man here, the experienced one. Even if she was making the mistake of accepting a reality she knew little about, I had to stand my ground and not lose my balance with her.

Glancing away from the mirror, I fastened the last button on the new shirt Max had brought to the hotel for me. I had to use someone more clueless for my errands now. Ottavio knew too much to hide Xenia's situation from him, and knowing she only had me to look after her indefinitely would only add fuel to his fury.

Moreover, if I returned to the Estate in a T-shirt, it would draw suspicion and someone would inevitably start trailing me again. Dressed so casually would only mean I'd been off to run personal affairs. Last I checked, Amato and Rossi wanted to be in the loop of those kind of my affairs, just to find ways to screw me over.