Page 10

Chapter 10

Nova

I can't stop shaking.

It's part cold, part lingering response from Massimo's hate and rage, and part…

Oh god .

Part because of how my body reacted to his touch. It was intense , confusing, and overwhelming how quickly conscious thought and reason flew out of my head.

I liked his hands on me. I wanted him to do more .

A man has never touched me.

In all honesty, I haven't even touched myself like that. I've never had the urge to pleasure myself because I knew I was being watched, even in my bedroom. My father was incessant about my virginity remaining intact. I was humiliated daily by Mauro going through my room to ensure I had no ' toys .'

Nothing to stretch out your tight little pussy, princess. That pleasure is all for your lucky husband.

An intense shudder goes through me at the memory of Mauro's offensive and vulgar words and remembering the lust he looked at me with. I suspect he was the one who watched me in my room to make sure I didn't do anything to 'stretch out my pussy.'

And I responded for the first time to Massimo—my captor, a monster capable of gruesome, lethal deeds.

He wants to use me to strike at my father .

He wants to prove to himself that I'm someone who is as vile and appalling as Silvestro Mancini

I want to show Massimo who I truly am. I don't want to be the compliant, weak version of myself, but hard-learned lessons warn me to stay the course, to keep being the demure, docile princess.

Don't fight, my mother whispers from the grave.

Tears bead on my lashes and fall, trapped between my thighs and chest. I huddle closer to my knees for warmth, but also seeking a tender touch that's been absent since her death.

"I miss you," I whisper.

My stomach clenches, and I try to calculate how long it has been since I ate, considering the time difference between here and Italy. It's probably close to thirty hours, and what I last ate wasn't very much.

Do I dare try to salvage something of the splattered meal? I could at least eat the bruised apple.

You don't eat until I say you can eat , my father's voice hisses.

No one here has told me I could eat. This is just like the test with my father when Mauro brought me a tray while in a similar room. I failed that test and was punished for days.

My body is craving the food, but my tormented mind is rallying hard to warn me.

Don't do it. Don't eat the food until you are told you can. You've learned this lesson already. Massimo is a monster, just like your father. It's a test .

Years of conditioning, learning horrible lessons, and psychological abuse wins.

I don't touch the food.