Chapter 35

"Their lines." Her tongue rolled in Italian.

"How so?"

"One will be thin and easy to erase."

"And the other?"

She took a deep breath. "Hard to ignore."

Give an inch.

"Both are important. Take them."

Her head shook as our native tongue triumphed in my favor. When she spun, I saw confusion in her eyes as they blazed.

"Just remember, even if lines can be erased, the mark will remain intact."

"You got more to say, Massimo?" Her defiance was clear as she switched to English.

I've had enough of her mouth, her attitude, and overall the mind fuck.

"I don't have all day. Pick one or both. They are just pencils."

"But they are much more!" she spat.

Irritation gripped me and all coolness fled as I stared down at her stained lips. She too felt the change as her body drew back.

"I didn't mean-"

"To what? Snap? Raise your voice to me?"

Her head shook. "No one is around."

I no longer cared. I had given too much, and that had been my fault.

She'd forgotten who I was, who she was to marry, and whose bed she slept in at night.

Fuck giving an inch.

I wouldn't be disrespected by a Zanetti.

ALESSANDRA

Massimo's body was tense, fighting for control as his eyes struggled to regain the violence I'd sparked. I knew I had pushed too far, and I'd flipped a switch I had no power to reverse.

Even in the car, I shared too much, but I had been so blinded with the possibility of getting what I wanted. It had been just us and the small treaty we'd agreed to without words. I'd spoken to him openly, but now my words had been blurred by mixed feelings and the thought of the real lines that were drawn between us.

I had spoken to him out of spite, with disrespect and out of the one place he'd challenged me not to do so, our home.

As I stared at the cruelty his eyes carried, I grew anxious.

I'd played with wrath and menace, and all they'd ever delivered to me was pain. I'd lost my way of composure and the years of practice of hiding my thoughts from my mouth.

All I could now see in his eyes was the same hatred my father cast before physical pain would follow.

I waited and waited because even in public there was nothing these men couldn't hide.

Breathe! I demanded myself. Fight back.

But as I continued to wait, there was nothing for me to fight back against.

I'm not broken, I repeated over and over, and each time that fearful child faded, and determination broke through.

And Massimo never struck. Massimo kept his promise.

Instead, he watched me carefully. His grim demeanor present but controlled. Massimo didn't say a word, and I wished he would say something. React, even if it meant I would fight back because his silence was worse.

His silence was punishing.

Massimo took the pencils from my hands, placed his powerful hand on my lower back, and pushed my body alongside his to the entrance of the store. When the blond shaggy-haired boy came into view, Massimo removed his hand from me, and I yearned for its return. It was sickening to still want his touch, as if it was meant to comfort me, but it was nothing more than to claim his power over me.

The guy behind the counter raised his head as he noticed Massimo's frame before him. Without a word, Massimo threw a bill over his sketch with the same hand that held the pencils. The boy's steel-blue eyes shot wide open when Massimo began walking away.

"Sir, your change!"

He wasn't acknowledged. Massimo only had me in mind as he stepped by my side and pulled me close.

Dario and Yamal waited outside, and while one walked ahead of us in the distance, the other remained close behind us

"Massimo," I managed to utter once we were alone inside his car.

"Alessandra."

How did he sound so, so unemotional?

I needed to fix this.

"II'm sorry."

I felt emotionally drained. Battered, as the memory of my father and rooted feelings had so easily emerged. But mostly, I felt rage. Of how he could get everything I'd worked so hard to master out in the open in a matter of seconds. How the sliver of the treaty had been broken swiftly after weeks of mending. Long weeks of mind games and risks.

All that time lost over pencils and lines!

The car's engine spurted to life, taking away the silence and filling the cabin in its soft purr. His phone chirped, and after a quick glance, he placed it back on the console. I dared a glance, and while his voice sounded controlled, Massimo's rigid muscles and strong jaw showed his temper.

I should have let it go and allowed him to have his moment. I could work my way to mend my disrespect another time. But he felt so distant, and I yearned to regain the close moments we had had since last night. How we'd started the day and spoke as civil humans. As strangers rather than enemies.

But reasoning wasn't my ally, and my spirit had become my foe as his hand reached for the gear. My hand shot out to stop him from shifting. Surprised by my own reaction, I clenched on to his wrist. A terrible move as it now demanded attention with its controlling grip.

My eyes snapped up and his gaze cracked with rage at mine. Finally, a reaction I understood, anger. It was better than his silence, or so I had thought because quickly his hand forcefully removed mine and held my jaw tightly.

I didn't back down. I took his uncontrolled grasp and ire to manipulate the situation. My mind had to catch up fast because his chest now rose with pent-up frustration. It was intimidating to see his eyes darken with such hatred aimed at me, to see his features contouring into the man I hadn't yet met. The boss of Miami.

This was the only chance I had to exploit his reaction.

"Can't you see I'm desperately seeking peace?" My eyes pleaded.

"All I see is how you've forgotten who I am." He seethed, seeing right through my attempt.

My mouth had grown sore from his hold, and I tried once again, but this time I held his forearm, hoping for a break.

"I said I'm sorry."

"Enough said, Alessandra. You've said and done enough." Massimo's low and dangerous timbre warned.

Fine. I was done with the game. Massimo believed I'd forgotten who he was, and even while it was far from the truth, I couldn't change his mind. It was done. Massimo would punish as he saw fit.

"Then let go of me," I said through my teeth.

His eyes lowered to my lips and down my body. When his gaze returned, he shocked me by doing what I'd asked.

Collected, he placed his hands back to the wheel, shifted gears, and sped out of the parking space. As the streets blurred by, the feeling of defeat weighed heavily inside, and I had no one to blame but myself.

ALESSANDRA

Two days had passed without seeing Massimo. His absence was another form of punishment. I didn't dwell, nor did I allow myself to feel anything other than indifference.

Because if I played scenarios of how the day could unfold, all the outcomes would be in my favor.

I would expect to slither through Massimo's guarded demeanor. I would expect to grow closer to him. I would expect him to say yes to my demands. To get the answers I sought from him. But our expectations were just dreams and often ruined by cruel reality.

Expectations were illusions that delivered disappointment and heartache. Nothing more. All because they were the root of our mind and hopes.

A fabrication.

It was all up to me. I was done trying to put my future in the hands of a man who didn't care. It was time I acted for myself. Massimo had been clear that he didn't want a partner, and since that day, I have stopped believing in the chance to be his.

I was fucking Alessandra Zanetti.

Not one man in my life fought for my well-being. Not one for my future, so I was.

In the past two days, I've grown closer to Vine and Wix. Ran with them along the perimeter of the house. Lounged in the sunroom creating new home designs and spent hours sketching structural lines with them by my side. And both nights, we would sit at the wine cellar with a pint of red and a book in my hand.

Today was the third day that slipped by, but I at least had a knife on my thigh, a workout finished, and a sense of purpose, as the possibility of creating a brand by selling my floor plans to the public was something I could do inside this gilded cage. I had achieved what I wanted without needing him. And I felt overjoyed, powerful to be reminded of who I was and who I could be.

Massimo might be the head of this syndicate, the boss. I, however, believed that he was the one who had forgotten who I was.

"Ms. Alessandra." Thalia's soft knocks bounced at the entry of the second living room. A place no one ever entered as it was tucked deep into the corner of the house. "Dinner will be served shortly."

"Thank you."

"Will Mr. Lombardi be joining you?" she timidly asked.

I stared into her wide eyes and said, "I doubt it."

Thalia's lips twisted with a nod, and even after I'd given her an answer, she stood by the door casing, her thoughts keeping her from returning to her duties.

"He's just busy, you know." She tucked her hair back, nervous of overstepping, but her concern about my feelings was stronger than the limits set by the title I carried.

"I know," I replied smoothly. Indifferent.

I didn't want to share further. Her loyalty was to Massimo, her employer, and I've always been one to never speak about private matters.

I ran my fingers through Vine's white coat, and her eyes fell on Vine and Wix as they sat attentively watching her.

"It's nice to see how quickly they warmed up to you." She smiled softly.

"I guess," I murmured while I petted him. "They just crave attention, and I'm providing it."

She laughed. "Nah, Ms. Alessandra. I've been around those two since they first arrived. They don't get near anyone but Mr. Lombardi or Vadim." Her eyes lifted back to mine. "Red or white?" she asked.

"Red."

"Red wine it is." She nodded with a smile and quickly left.

I stood, and my new favorite companions mimicked me. Ready to follow my trail. Wix was the most reserved of the two while Vine usually sought my touch, but they both tagged along wherever I went. They made the loneliness easier.

"Come, I'll walk you outside to use the restroom before dinner."

Vine's white ears twitched as if he agreed. Wix sensed our departure and stood tall before me ready to lead the way.

Before I took my first step, Wix's black fur moved forward, setting the pace with dominance and full awareness of our surroundings. I almost shook my head. He reminded me of his owner as his paws and strut claimed control and authority. Vine didn't mind staying behind; he preferred my side.

Abruptly, Wix stopped, fully alert as we approached the front door. Vine sensed his change, and his wolf-like teeth shone while his body leaned closer to mine.