Chapter 39

"I swear if there were tears in your eyes"

He didn't have to explain further. The demon in his eyes said it all.

"I'm fine," I reassured him while our eyes locked on one another. He wanted to believe me, but instead, his gaze scrutinized my face closer, and his fingers spread, cupping my jaw gently.

Too gentle, too unlike him, and too difficult to ignore. I removed my eyes and watched him instead. His freshly trimmed beard, his strong jawline and immaculate Italian tan skin. The hard lines caused by tension and anger as he held me.

"Mr. Lombardi, I'm s-"

Massimo's head snapped. The chef didn't utter another word, and when his eyes met mine again, I hated the humiliating state of my appearance. Right in front of everyone so they can see and ponder it in their minds.

It was degrading.

I closed my eyes briefly at the thought of who I was meant to be to them and how I looked now.

"Alessandra." Massimo's soft tone only heightened the bubbling emotion that creeped into my eyes. The pity I heard.

Fuck, this was bad.

"Everyone, out," he harshly ordered.

"No!" I opened my eyes, and his brows pinched. "Please, stay," I added quickly, and everyone stilled, confused on who to listen to.

Afraid to look at any of them, I kept my eyes on Massimo's inked neck.

"Finish what you have all been working on. I'm really okay."

Puzzled, he remained in the pool of red chunks and orange spice, and eventually gave in.

"Let me help you up."

Massimo said as if he had given me another option. As if his hands hadn't taken possession of my elbows and my legs steadied by his grip. Slowly, I stood with his help, and I was sore. Massimo didn't miss it. He just held me tight as he struggled to keep his anger at bay.

"Don't," I whispered.

He shook his head slightly but didn't say another word. We just made our way out of the kitchen in silence, and I was thankful. I didn't know for how long either of us could hold onto our masks.

His, the wrath. Mine, the appearance of control.

"Fratello." Brother.

Massimo stopped, and we both turned to Elio's voice as he walked through the front door.

Elio, out of anybody else. It had to be him.

I straightened, lifting my head to the self-absorbed and heartless in-law of mine. Then, Massimo let go of his assisting hold and slithered his arm onto the back of my body. My teeth trapped my smile.

Elio's smirk played with humor as he took in our appearances.

"I won't even ask." Elio looked down at Massimo's ruined clothes covered in orange and red stains. "What do you need from me?"

Massimo slid his head down, flicking his eyes briefly at me.

Don't, Massimo.

"Call Ramirez and leave some ice by my door. I also need you to take Wix and Vine out to the mud room."

Elio looked annoyed at the sound of dealing with Wix and Vine.

"Who's Ramirez?" I asked.

Massimo didn't reply, but Elio did. He wouldn't miss the opportunity to degrade me.

"A doctor. My guess is that your delicate body is in need of one."

In pain or not, my hand twitched in search of my missing knife. Massimo knew it too and took a deep breath, sensing my self-control slipping.

I smiled sweetly. "Or for you. After all, Wix is a bit jumpy. Hate for you to get the same treatment Alex could've gotten."

Elio curled his lips and drew back in confusion. "Massimo?"

Massimo shook his head, and Elio stood, waiting.

"Just make sure my dogs are taken care of, and the chef cleans the mess."

Elio nodded and left us behind.

Once his back was nowhere in sight, we turned and walked up the stairs. The silence had grown uncomfortable. So much I wanted to say, to talk to him about, and the timing couldn't be worse.

"I really don't need a doctor, Massimo," I said as he opened the door of his room for us.

"It's just us now, Alessandra. You can stop pretending." Massimo's hand fell from my lower back to take my right hand instead. He inspected it with light touches and feathering squeezes.

I let him, like a beggar. Taking anything he gave, even if it was just out of concern for my well-being. Was he concerned?

"Family lunch" I started. "Next time, a heads up would be nice."

"Noted." His fingers ran up and down from my fingers to my forearm, and while it was sore to the touch, his touch calmed me. "Now, tell me how bad?"

"It's just a sprain."

"The doctor will make sure of that," he insisted.

"It's not the first I've received. It'll go away in a day or two."

"It's your right hand, Alessandra. We both know how significant it is."

You only know because you've seen me wield a knife.

"Which is the reason I am telling you to cancel the doctor. I know my body. I'll be fine." Our eyes fought. "Plus, can you only shoot with your right hand?"

"I shoot with both."

With a smirk, I replied, "Then, what makes you think I can only use my right?"

Massimo tried to hide his own lips from curling as his head shook.

"I can't believe I'm willing to listen to you," he scoffed. "Fine. Now, how sore are you?"

"As sore as I am every morning after a run."

His head bobbed, but he still hesitated. Massimo struggled to give away his controlling persona. His need to have everything in order. To allow someone else to make a decision.

"I can cancel lunch."

Massimo hadn't noticed, but his hand no longer checked my injury. It just held me. As much as I accepted what he hadn't implied as a caress, I acted as if I too was unaware of it.

I shook my head. "Please don't, I just need a long bath and two Tylenol, and I'll be down to meet everyone."

"Why are you being so headstrong?" he asked. "Are you trying to prove a point?"

"I'm always trying to prove a point."

His eyes lowered to our joined bodies, his forehead creased, then he let go.

Figured.

"I'm going to start a bath. You should change too."

He agreed with a nod, but he followed me into the bathroom. He leaned by the doorway as I twisted the knobs and poured some cherry and eucalyptus-scented bubbles into the tub.

His undivided attention was to me, and the sense of his eyes while my ass bent over the tub to check the temperature of the water was as heated as the steam that filled the air.

"How did you know they responded to Russian commands?"

I sat up, looked at him, and smiled. "They wouldn't listen when I spoke to them in English, and even though they do in Italian, it wasn't as quick as their breed should respond to a command." Massimo crossed his arms. "I thought of Vadim and the fact that you speak Russian as well. It didn't take long to learn them." I watched his tensed muscles and added, "I've had plenty of time alone to do so."

I was learning more and more of his tells.

"Don't get in between one of them again," his tone warned, annoyed.

"Wix would've attacked him!" I couldn't believe it.

"He did what he was trained to do. You'd been threatened."

"It was an accident," I stated.

"He could've snapped at you!" Massimo bit back harshly.

Frustrated, I was ready to fight back and return his icy and sharp tone, but loud knocks filtered from the bedroom door and Massimo left me alone.

All the adrenaline rushed from my body at the turn of events, and my worn body inched closer to the tub. Taking advantage of Massimo's absence, I carefully removed my clothing while minimizing the use of my wrist. A sigh of relief escaped my body as I sank down into the warm water of the large porcelain tub.

I closed my eyes, but they quickly rushed open as his defiant and gloomy temper returned.

"I don't want to fight," I murmured.

His eyes took me in, holding me as tightly as he clenched on an ice bag.

"Then don't." His hands shot outwards, frustrated. "I wish you wouldn't."

He reached over the tub and dropped the bag onto my injured wrist. Nothing showed a sweet or caring gesture, it was just another check on his checklist.

"But you will." His eyes peered down at my soaking body. "It's all you do."

He walked out. He walked out! I was so close to throwing the ice bag across the room.

But I didn't because he would've been right.

I missed the darkness, and maybe time had been right. Daylight didn't offer peace. Maybe daylight would always be my foe.

MASSIMO

I needed fresh air. It was imperative for me to regain control and maintain my focus on the continuous threats that were knocking on every inch of my territory. A task I never failed and refused to. But Alessandra's presence kept intervening in matters I wouldn't have given much thought to or cared to address before her arrival. Just the mere thought of having her in my home without knowing what she was doing was a distraction.

She was a burden on my mind. One I didn't want but didn't mind at the same time. Because when her greens looked up to me, all I saw was mine, and every day this week I'd killed for those eyes.

Every. Single. Life I took.

I had taken it personally, and my hands were filthy.

This war was meant to be a power shift, a gain for my own empire and foul desires of vengeance. But the more bullets I shot, the more I lost myself in this wicked ache of possession.

I shouldn't have cared if she could throw a knife again. Or how her wrist had swollen slightly from a fall. Or the way her eyes closed briefly in humiliation. But I had. I did, and all I thought in that moment was for no one else to see it-her vulnerability because, if Alessandra showed it, it should only be for me to see it.

Outside in the humid heat, I picked a cigarette out of my case and rolled my neck in hopes of easing the urge to walk back into that kitchen.

Steps neared, and I was no longer alone with my demon. I didn't have to look to know it was my brother, but he treaded carefully, sensing my dark and consuming demeanor.

"What do you really want me to do?" Elio asked. He'd walked into the kitchen, assessed the situation, and now fully understood where my mind had taken me.

"Something I'm not planning to order." I looked down at the cigarette that twirled between my fingers.

Alex came from a family protected by us. While that had an insignificant say, I couldn't eliminate him as I wished. His family meant something to Leonardo, and certain things couldn't be killed if it meant breaking the duty of honor.

Honor. Maybe if I repeated it enough, it would help ease my ire and remind me why I had to let it be.

Then my mind replayed Alessandra's body slithering through the filthy floor, the way she tried to hide behind the pain as her wrist rolled in Wix's strength, all for a stronzo who couldn't do something as simple as walk.

Yeah, I had honor. I lived by it, but I had learned its limit-Alessandra.

I glanced over at Elio. Nothing else had to be said. Filthy was who I'd become.

That's how I found myself in front of Leonardo's home with an unlit cigarette in my pocket.