Page 15

Chapter 15

Nova

I'm so warm that sweat pools between my breasts as I stretch under thick blankets and a pillow-soft mattress.

The bed feels like heaven.

Wait…

I jerk awake, sitting up. The blood rushing from my head makes me dizzy, and I fall to the side.

"Easy, princess," a deep baritone voice says, and strong hands prop me up gently against a headboard.

Those hands aren't just strong, they're…massive.

Massimo.

I squeak in shock, trying to scramble away.

The bed dips, and my eyes fully focus, finding him sitting on the edge of the bed.

My mouth falls open. His hair looks wrecked—not the smoothed-back, perfected look I've only seen him with. And he's wearing… Oh, good lord…sweatpants and a T-shirt that pulls over his broad, muscular chest.

His arms are corded and covered with swirls of ink that disappear under the sleeves of his T-shirt. Does the ink continue onto his shoulders, back, and chest? In his suits, you have no idea he's tattooed.

I shove those thoughts away as shocked fear floods me, followed by a surge of lust so intense it steals my breath. The lust confuses the hell out of me, because I want so badly to give in to it. Especially with the way he's looking at me now—there's no hate or menacing malice.

My stomach rumbles, snapping me out of my lust-rattled fog.

At the sound of my stomach, his face turns pensive and even more concerned. He runs his large hand over his jaw, which is thick with stubble.

I shake my head. I must be dreaming.

"What…" My voice is a croak, so I swallow again, trying to wet my throat.

He offers me a glass of water.

Yes, I must be dreaming. Or on the verge of freezing or starving to death, and my mind is playing tricks on me.

I reach forward, but I don't take the glass. Instead, my hand goes for his face. He's entirely still; I don't even think he's breathing.

He's not real. This is a figment of my imagination.

My fingers touch his skin. He's warm, his stubble scratchy.

I pinch his cheek. Hard.

He smiles. And the sight of it… It should be added as one of the seven deadly sins.

"Do your worst, princess," he says softly. "I deserve it."

I snatch my hand away. "Massimo?"

He lowers his eyes and gently takes my hand and runs his knuckles over my open palm.

His touch is alarming. Not because it's sparking fear, but because it's making that lust rise in me again. Massimo touching me is doing things—unholy things—between my legs. I clamp them together tightly and pull my hand away.

"Jerome made you dinner."

"What's going on?"

I snap my mouth shut, chastising myself for speaking so freely with him. But waking from unconsciousness seems to have fiercely ignited my fire and fight, and I find myself wanting to be me with Massimo, to show him who I truly am.

Instead of doing or saying anything more stupid and foolish than letting my guard down, I assess my current situation .

I'm in an elegantly decorated bedroom, on a comfortable bed with a thick comforter. Looking down, I see that I'm wearing a two-piece pajama set made of the softest cotton I've ever felt.

I have many questions. Such as how did I get into these gloriously comfy pajamas?

Vague, hazy memories push in of warm water surrounding me, resting against something solid, wrapped in what felt like arms of safety.

My eyes fly to his, my face heating. "Did you bathe me?" He nods. "Did you bathe with me?"

My hard-learned lesson of staying silent until spoken to has completely flown out the window, but I can't seem to stop myself.

He runs his thumb over his bottom lip. "I couldn't let you drown, princess."

He's still calling me princess. But the intonation is entirely different from when he had called me that before, and different than anyone else. Now, Massimo says it like a caress.

This is another test.

He's still trying to break me. Find out my secrets. Crack me open to prove I'm as horrible as my father.

I'm still an idiot.

Gullible.

Fool.

Weak.

STUPID.

I almost fell for his games.

I'm still Massimo's pawn and his tool of revenge against my father.

I'm still being tested, and I'm still learning hard-learned lessons.

But I am learning. With every interaction with Massimo, I'm learning how to adapt and navigate in order to survive the new monster in my world.

I lower my lashes. When I start to lower my chin, he gently catches it and lifts it so I face him.

"No more, princess," he rasps and shakes his head. "You don't have to hide from me. Show me your fight, Nova. It's safe to do that with me."

Lies. Lies .

I wonder if this is how my mother had gotten sucked in by my father. As a young girl, I could sense that she loved him, even though he was a horrible man.

Did my father draw her in with sweet words and gentle touches? Then, when he had her, he showed her his true colors?

However, I disregard that possibility, because my father doesn't have it in him to be kind and gentle, even if it's a ploy to get what he wants. He just takes and destroys.

So that meant my mother willingly loved him. And he killed her.

How utterly tragic.

"Nova." Massimo's thumb runs along my jaw as he stares into my eyes like he's trying to see into my soul.

I don't dare pull away from his touch.

Okay, I don't entirely want to pull away from his touch, but I'll ruminate on that later.

I don't pull away from him, but I protect myself the best way I've learned how. I reinforce the walls to keep my inner thoughts from my face. I slap on my perfected princess mask and soften my shoulders so I appear pliant and submissive.

"Nova." My name sounds pained when he says its. "I understand that I'll have to prove myself to you after what I've done. For what it's worth, I truly am sorry."

I stare at him in disbelief, torn between slapping his face and curling into his lap and sobbing for days.

He makes the fire and fight in me flare to life.

Even after what I went through the past few days, I never feared Massimo like I did my father, brothers, or Mauro.

My goalpost for comparison is clearly skewed. A different monster that isn't the same level of horrendous as my other ones, and I think he's safe?

Pfft. Catch a fucking drift, girl.

My stomach grumbles again. Massimo's thick lips—made more lush with his stubble—press together .

He rises off the side of the bed and goes to a dresser that has a tray on top and brings it over. "Do you need to go to the washroom before you eat?"

Once again, all I can do is stare at him.

"Jerome gave you a bag of saline through IV." He points at the bandage on my hand, which I hadn't noticed until now. "You weren't as dehydrated as we worried you were."

I am a bit uncomfortable, both because of the conversation topic, his concern— feigned concern—and my full bladder, so I get up to go to the washroom.

Or try to.

The wave of dizziness hits me again, and I find myself scooped in Massimo's arms, and he's carrying me to the washroom.

I stiffen in fear and horror.

Is he going to make me pee in front of him?

The man had made me strip, trying to get me to fight him, so maybe humiliation and degradation are his thing.

I can't stop shaking, and Massimo gently sits me on the vanity and cups my face.

"Nova… Princess." He nearly shatters me by kissing my forehead. The touch is so careful, so tender…so confusing.

A choked cry escapes me, and I burrow my face into his chest, my hands fisting his T-shirt.

I'm seeking comfort from my captor, and a feeling of safety grows as his arms wrap around me. They could crush me, yet I sink further into him as another sob wracks my frame. I have no idea why he's holding me, or why I'm holding onto him so desperately. All I know is this is the first time since my mother's death that someone has held and comforted me.

And that makes me cry harder.

He holds me tighter to him, but I don't feel threatened. He whispers in my ear, but they aren't hateful, taunting, or mocking words. He reaches for tissues without breaking his hold on me, but he doesn't give them to me. Instead, he cleans my face and wipes my eyes, like he cares—cares about me and wants to take care of me.

"Why?" I choke out .

He kisses my head again. "Go to the washroom, then we'll talk. Are you okay standing on your own?" He pulls back, his dark brow furrowed with concern.

If I didn't know better, I'd say that concern and worry were authentic.

But I do know better. I just need to get my bearings and get back on stable ground.

I nod, and he helps me off the vanity. He stays close, ready to catch me if the dizziness takes me down again.

Such a perfect liar.

Such a beautiful, perfect liar.

He may be my worst monster yet.