Page 12

Chapter 12

Massimo

It's Wednesday evening, and I've forced myself to stay out of Nova's cell since I launched her food tray like I was kicking a field goal for the Super Bowl. Frankly, I didn't trust myself not to choke her to make her break.

Is she a fucking masochist? Or just the most stubborn, maddening woman on this planet?

She's been in that cold room for two and a half days. She hasn't eaten, but at least she's drank a bit of water.

If I had been home at all today, I would've likely been unable to stay away from her. But as it stands, I've been gone all day and had to rely on the video feed on my phone and the updates Jerome has been giving Gabe. Jerome hasn't sent those to me directly because he knows I've been preoccupied with keeping Vito and Eden alive as we prepare for the meeting at Gilly's with the leaders of all the city's criminal factions.

The meeting is over now, and it's done.

Vito and Eden are safe—for now. At least two potential foes have been identified as possible future retaliators against them and as threats to the Chamber and the status quo for how we've operated.

Ivan Everhart, leader of the Serpents, and Sean Finley, leader of a small arm of the Irish mob.

Both are power-hungry, which isn't abnormal in our world. Both want a seat at the table with the Chamber and could use underhanded means to get it .

I'm at the Tower, where the Chamber leaders convene to discuss essential items. Since we're the five strongest factions in the city, and someone could strike a power blow by trying to take us five leaders out. The Tower is the safest place for us to meet because it is excessively guarded and monitored, including aerial monitoring and weaponized drones if needed.

Sile Chen, Lixin's replacement to lead the Triads, and Bill Ibrahim, Amazu's replacement with the Fire Clan, scan the boardroom as we sit down. We've been here several times over the past few days, discussing how to handle the situation with Lixin and Amazu's treachery.

Their treachery doesn't seem to involve anyone else in the Triads and Fire Clan, but we're all cautious of each other. Dom, Ash, and I agreed to keep their previous leaders' deceit and betrayal a secret so there's no potential blowback to their groups—this is part of the deal to keep Vito and Eden safe. It galls me that Lixin and Amazu won't be publicly exposed and denounced, but this is the ugly part of business.

What Vito did to those two bastards will have to be enough retribution.

Dom, the leader of the Saints, paces along the back wall. "Ivan and Sean are not joining the Chamber." He fists his hands. "They're both fucking cunts."

Ash, Prez of the Havoc Guardian MC, crosses his arms over his leather cut. "We said we'd entertain the idea of expanding the Chamber membership."

"There. Entertained." Dom cocks his scarred brow at Ash with a smirk. "Next item on the docket."

Ash barks a laugh as my phone buzzes with a message from Gabe, who's waiting for me in the lobby with the other Chamber leaders' heads of security. I'm eager for more updates on the princess, even if all Gabe says is that nothing's changed.

Just spoke with Jerome. She still hasn't eaten

Otherwise, she's 'fine'

But cold

Jerome asked if he could give her a blanket

My jaw clenches. She's slithering under Jerome's skin just like she had Gemma's. I type my response, then pocket my phone.

No

If the princess wants to go on a hunger strike, fine. If what Jerome makes for her isn't good enough for her entitled, spoiled, pampered bitch-self, then that's fine, too.

I won't be the one to cave. I'm not under her control. She's not the one in power here.

I fucking am.

And I'll break her yet. She'll show me who she truly is soon.

There's fire and fight in her, no matter how well she tries to hide it—I've seen it with my own goddamn eyes.

I don't want her meek and mild. I don't want her perfect little princess self. I want her fangs and claws to come out. I want her fire and fight.

Proving that I'm right that she's hiding what she is: a cunning, conniving snake, just like her father.

Proving that my sixth sense of being able to tell when people are lying isn't completely broken. So I can redeem myself for missing any and all cues that Lixin and Amazu were fucking playing us all.

"Everything alright, Massimo?" Bill looks at me warily.

My emotions are displayed on my face like a billboard. I pride myself on being unreadable, just as I pride myself on being calm and controlled.

My stoic mask falls back into place, but inside, I'm a roiling, tumultuous, dark, stormy sea.

What will it take to break the princess?

I try to force my thoughts away from her. She's consumed too much of my headspace all day, while I should have been focused on the threat against Vito and our family .

"Is your meeting with the 'Ndrangheta still happening, Massimo?" Ash asks.

We rarely speak about our own organization's business. However, I understand why he brought this up; we need to deal with this Chamber business as soon as possible.

"I've been able to push it back and will leave in three days."

I'm not sure of my next steps if Nova doesn't crack by then. Leave her in the cold room until I get back?

The image of her small, huddled form against the wall, her lowered head, and hugging her knees makes my gut clench and bile push into my throat. She's been in there for two and a half days already.

No blanket, not even a mat to sleep on.

I'm acting like a monster.

I am exactly what they say I am .

But for her to crack, she has to believe that.

I stand. "I need to go."

"It's late anyway, and it's been a long day." Sile stifles a yawn.

Ash raps his tattooed knuckles on the boardroom table. "Convene here at one tomorrow."

Dom smirks. "You Guardians never were early risers."

"The clubhouse might not start to rouse until at least eleven," Ash grunts. "That doesn't mean the Prez sleeps the day away."

"Have a good night, gentlemen." I button up my suit jacket and walk out of the boardroom and into the simple but elegant reception area.

"Mass, wait a second." Dom jogs to meet me, his eyes scanning my face. Him and Ash know me best as my closest allies. "You sure everything is okay? You know the Saints have your back with any further threats against Vito and Eden, right?"

Dom had been upfront that his allegiance on this came with a favor attached. I wasn't surprised or dismayed because this is how our world operates.

"Are you calling in that favor already, Dom?"

Rather than his usual smirk, his face darkens. "Not yet…but soon."

"You know where to find me."

"You seem in a hurry to get home." His usual smirk comes back. "You got a little honey warming your bed?"

The image of Nova splayed across my bed is sudden, intense, and hot as fuck. Heat floods me, and my cock starts to harden.

The warmth in my body acts like a bucket of ice water, though, as I remember Nova locked in my cold basement. Huddled in a tight ball to stay warm and maybe to hold the pieces of herself together while I tried to break her apart.

"I need to go," I half-rasp, half-snarl. I take the stairs, not willing to wait for the elevator because I need to move.

When I reach the lobby, Gabe takes one look at me and breaks away from his conversation with Pix and Hugo. We’re both silent as we head to the parking garage and get into the Rolls Royce.

I pull up the security camera feed on my phone to watch Nova.

She's curled into a tight fetal position on the stone floor, not moving.

Fear curdles in my gut—what if she's dead? Logic takes over; reminding me it's not that cold in there.

No, but maybe she's starved to death .

Not that quickly.

But doubt pushes in. She's petite; there's not much to her. She doesn't look anorexic or anything, but she doesn't look overly nourished, either.

I scan around the room and see the untouched tray and full bottle of water. She's had a few bottles of water since being down there, so she's not so stubborn as to fully dehydrate herself.

But she still isn't fucking eating.

Is this an issue of her trying to control her body size? Is her goal to be rail-thin? Whenever in public, she's always a flawless, perfect princess, so it's entirely possible.

The Mancini Princess. That snake's daughter, his spawn.

My anger has escalated to fury.

I'm so fucking done with her games and stubbornness. I'm determined to break her, crack open her insides, just to prove I'm right.

As soon as Gabe pulls up in front of the house, I'm out of the car.

"Massimo, wait," he calls, but I'm lost to my anger and determination.

Jerome jumps out of the way when I slam open the front door .

"Massimo, don't go down there when you're like this." Gabe says, coming up the steps.

I whirl on him, ready to punch his goddamn face in. "Don't. Tell. Me. What to do."

They don't follow me as I storm like a thundercloud down to the basement, ready for battle.

She wants a battle of wills? She'll fucking get a battle of wills.

She thinks I'm a monster? She'll fucking get a monster.

The cold, the lack of creature comforts, such as a blanket and food, haven't broken her. Then maybe this will. Maybe what I have planned will finally, finally get her to fight me. To show me that fire. To prove that she's not some meek and mild, some fucking demure princess.

I unlock the door and swing it open, banging it against the wall.

It has the effect I'm looking for.

Nova jerks on the floor, instantly wide awake. She's on her feet immediately. She sways and catches herself on the wall, then faces me with wide eyes.

" Strip, " I seethe.

Her doe-like brown eyes go impossibly wider. "Wh-what?" she stammers, taking a step back.

"I'm not a man, a monster , who likes to repeat himself, princess," I sneer the word. "I said, strip ."

Her throat works, and her beautiful face is etched with fear. Her large, luminous eyes fill with tears.

Not. The. Reaction. I'm. Looking. For.

I lunge for her, and she screams.

I want her to fight me.

To stop this fucking madness.

My calm and control have completely left the goddamn building.

Yet she still doesn't fight me. I see that spark of fire in her eyes, but then it's like the oxygen is sucked out of the room and kills it.

"Please," she whispers. "You're not that kind of monster."

"The fuck I'm not," I snarl .

I'm not, but I'm past the point of no-return. This is a battle of wills. This woman may have stripped me of my calm and control, but she will not strip me of this win.

I fist the material of the halter portion of her romper and jerk, tearing the material at the back of her neck. I yank the material down, baring her breasts—her goddamn perfect small globes with rosy areolas.

"I said fucking strip ."

Her tears are silent as they stream down her ashen cheeks.

Her eyes and face have completely shuttered.

Her shoulders round forward, and her head drops.

Her hair has come out of its messy bun and falls to shield her face.

With a choked sob, she pushes the torn romper down over her hips. It falls and pools around her feet.

She stands before me, a beautiful vision. Broken, but not the way I intended.

A toxic brew of lust and disgust for myself explode, painting my insides with noxious venom.

Her sex is completely bared—to me and of hair.

More lust and disgust pulse through me like an artery spurting blood.

"Did you shave your pussy for your husband-to-be, the ultimate monster, Julien Moreau, princess ?" Rage adds to the venomous concoction flowing inside me. "Were you excited to fuck him and give him your virginity?"

Her only answer is a shattered sob as her body shakes violently.

I feel ill. Sick. Yes, I'm beyond frustrated because this didn't work, but I'm not this man. I'm not this kind of monster.

I am shaking, maybe almost as hard as her. "Get dressed," I rasp, hardly able to get the words out. She doesn't move, so I yank open the buttons of my jacket. "Get dressed!"

She jerks. Then, on unsteady legs, her trembling body bends down to pull the romper back up. The ends are torn. I don't know if she'll be able to tie them around the back of her neck to hold the top up.

She's so pale.

And there's still no fight in her.

She's still winning. Playing you for a fool .

I know she's not this meek and mild version she's portraying.

I shrug out of my jacket and toss it at her, but it lands at her feet. That small gesture, that bit of warmth, will be all I'm willing to give her.

I slam the door, lock it, and storm back up the stairs. Gabe waits for me.

"My gym." I point toward the back of the house. "Right fucking now."

I need to fight this frustration, disgust , and hate out, and Gabe is the unlucky bastard who will be my opponent.