Page 17

Chapter 17

Nova

My confusion and doubt about Massimo war with my exhaustion and the broken parts of me that somehow still hope that not everyone is a monster in my world.

You never… never have to be told to eat again, princess. You eat what you want, when you want.

It's a trick, right? A test or a game, all so I can be punished and learn another lesson.

It has to be, because how can I eat what and when I want when I'm a captive? Even though Massimo took me out of the basement, I'll still be locked in this bedroom. I'm not a guest here; I won't be able to roam the house or have free rein in the kitchen. And even if I did get access to the kitchen, I have no idea how to cook. I was never allowed to even make myself a sandwich.

Regardless of my warring thoughts about whether this is a test, Massimo has slowly fed me whatever I pointed to for the past hour. He never commanded me to eat or gave me permission, so my tormented brain, trained by my father's brutal lessons about only eating when and what I was told, has been screaming the entire time, warning that I'm going to be punished.

However, something inside me is pushing me toward trusting Massimo. Or maybe it's survival instincts kicking in, knowing that I need to eat, and punishments or another hard-learned lesson be damned .

Massimo has been quiet while he feeds me. The only things he's said are ' good girl ' and ' more, princess?' There's no hate or malice rolling off him. Only what feels like patience and…tenderness.

His finger gently presses under my chin to lift my face to look at him. His expression is open and gentle. "Have you had enough, Nova?"

I blink back the sudden burn of tears, feeling shame wash over me.

I'm so broken and weak.

The only reason I've been able to eat without a command is because Massimo's has been feeding me.

Stupid. Gullible. Idiot. He's using you and you'll be punished for this .

My bruised psyche from too many years of my father's psychological control and abuse is winning, and the food I've been able to eat might be expelled all over the bed.

"Princess?"

The word is soft, gentle. That tone should not be possible from such a large, dangerous man.

Remember, he's a monster. He hates all Mancinis. This is just another trick.

I don't want it to be a trick or a test or a game. I'm so goddamn tired of a lifetime of those.

But to fall into that lie is ridiculously stupid and dangerous.

This man kidnapped me to strike at my father.

So, help Massimo.

You hate Silvestro Mancini. He beat your mother in front of you, making you watch. He killed her.

But I'm just a pawn and a tool.

I close my eyes, wanting nothing more than to sink into oblivion.

"Nova… Please, look at me."

He said please, but it's still an order. And I'm nothing but conditioned to respond.

I open my eyes and turn my head.

Massimo wearing an immaculate, tailored suit is one thing—intimidating, powerful…hot as hell.

But Massimo wearing a T-shirt and sweatpants is…

Going to unravel me .

It's the casualness that I innately know that very few see him in. It's the ruffled, messed up hair. It's the sight of his inked, corded arms. It's how his muscular body feels even more massive next to my slight frame.

"Have you eaten enough? Do you still feel hungry?"

His concern—its presence and authenticity—make me want to cry. However, it also brings back to life the fire and fight that I try so hard to keep extinguished.

"Worried I'll starve and ruin your plans against my father?"

I snap my mouth shut, fear unfurling in my gut, and I try to smother that spark of fight. It's never happened so frequently or intensely with anyone before; I know better.

My breathing increases with the spike of my heart rate.

"There's my little hellcat. Show me your claws." His mouth curls at the corners.

Wait… What?

Hellcat? Claws?

He wants me to fight him?

I've heard of monsters like that—where the fight and chase are what they crave to hunt and destroy their prey.

"Please, don't do that, Nova."

Again, an order, but at least it's paired with a please.

Massimo has been lying on his side, propped up with his elbow, but he sits up now. His movement slows when I instinctively shrink back. His mouth firms, and I lower my head. I've displeased him.

And it's oddly disconcerting. Stressful, but not like it usually is when I displeased my father or anyone else in control of my small world.

The tray lifts from my legs as I keep my head downcast. The bed shifts, and my heart stops when Massimo's long, heavy leg comes over my thighs right above my knees. His other leg wedges behind me between my body and the headboard, and he shifts closer, so I'm sitting sideways in the V of his thighs.

"What are you doing?" I croak, braving it enough to look at him.

He doesn't answer. He leans forward to carefully take my hand that is closed into a tight fist. He gently opens it and rubs his thumb on the indented crescent moons my nails left on my palm .

Transfixed, I watch the movement. I feel the zaps of electricity from his touch and the heat spreading from where he touches me.

"My sister-in-law, Sophie," Massimo says, massaging my palm, "and my brother, Creed, are building a home called Hope's Legacy."

I have no idea why he's telling me this or his intention, but his rhythmic touch and the deep rumble of his voice have me under some spell. I feel like I'm falling headlong into a hypnotic trance.

"It will have various supports for the women and children who are escaping violence."

The spell is broken as I understand what he's trying to get at.

I try to pull my hand away, but he doesn't let me. It should trigger me, given he's huge, and he's pinning me with his legs. But instead of feeling triggered, I'm fighting between melting into him with a sob and wanting to slap his gorgeous face.

"I wasn't abused, Massimo," I lie with too much fire in my voice.

"It doesn't have to be physical for it to be abuse, Nova."

He's rarely readable, and the few times I’ve seen into the dark depths of his eyes, I saw rage and hate. The hate is gone now, and the rage has settled into anger. Instead of shrinking from his anger, I lean into it, feeling brave for some reason.

"I probably know that better than most people," I admit, the closest I've ever verbalized about the hell I've lived through.

His nostrils flare as his anger grows, and he visibly works to remain in control.

My learned instincts kick in, scolding me for my stupidity of deviating from my meek princess persona. When he cups my face and brings our foreheads together, I'm stunned and startled, but for some reason, I don't feel threatened.

"And I'll add that to my list of sins he owes me to collect," Massimo growls.

"Wh-what?"

His hands tighten. "My reputation as a monster, who does gruesome deeds when he allows himself to get his hands dirty, will become a legend after I'm through with your father. "

He's just saying this. He's trying to fool me like he thought I was hiding and fooling him. He's flipped the tables on me, trying to make me believe he cares—that he gives a shit when no one else in my life except my mother has.

Besides what happened with my mother, this is probably the cruelest lesson.

If I trust him, I fail, and he wins.

"Don't fight the monsters, princess. Because the monsters always win."

But I have to fight. I have to fight from falling under Massimo's spell and trusting him. I can't let myself be fooled by him.

He kidnapped me. He hates all Mancinis. Not even twenty-four hours ago, I was locked in a cold basement room because he was sure I was as vile, venomous, and deceptive as my father.

That doesn't just disappear in a blink.

He must think I'm a goddamn idiot on top of being a pawn and a tool.

The hard-learned lessons from my father have taught me how to protect myself. However, Massimo seemed to see through my shields that no one else had—he saw that I was hiding my true thoughts and nature from the moment we met. So, if I pretend that I'm starting to trust him, would he see through that, too?

But that's my only option.

"Well, don't go to any trouble on my behalf."

"Princess." His thumb lightly skates along my jaw. "It will be my pleasure."

My body sags in exhaustion from hardly sleeping for days and from the thought of Massimo ridding the world of my father.

I can see Massimo's resolve and intention that Silvestro Mancini's days are numbered. But I don’t fool myself into thinking it has anything to do with me.

He pushes my tangled hair from my face. "What do you need to sleep, princess?"

I look away from his all-too-seeing eyes.

"Nova… I don't think it will ever be enough, but I'm so fucking sorry for how I treated yo u."

Locking me in a room and making me strip was on him. However, the room wasn't as terrible as the one in my home. This one wasn't overly cold, and it was clean. In my basement, the cell was filthy with dirt, rotten food, and blood, and I refused to think about what else. The starving and dehydrating myself was on me and my learned response from my father.

As soon as Massimo clued into that, he took me out of that room, rehydrated me, and ensured I ate.

No. Stop. I won't fall for his trickery.

But I won't fight him, either. I'll make him believe that I'm slowly starting to trust him. It can't happen too quickly, though, or he'll see right through it.

I turn back to him, trying to read him as hard as he's trying to read me. Deciding to give him a truth and taking a chance that he won't use this against me, I say, "I need a bit of light to sleep."

A small sound comes from him, and if I didn't know better, I'd say it sounded pained.

"Your father… Did he lock you in the dark? Was that one of your hard-learned lessons?"

I stare at him, wondering about that specific description and how he knows. Then it clicks that I must've said something in my slightly delirious state before I passed out.

"No," I lie. "I've just always needed a light, ever since my mother died."

That's mostly the truth.

He studies me for a while longer, then untangles his legs from around me, and stands. Without him, I feel cold and empty; I quickly ignore that thought.

"We'll talk more in the morning, princess."

It's meant to be reassuring, but to me, it's a warning. Still, my exhaustion keeps me from caring as that's a tomorrow problem. I shift to lie down and pull the comforter over me.

Massimo walks over to the ensuite and turns on the light. Next, he walks to the door and turns off the bedroom light, watching me closely. "How's that? Enough light?"

My eyes are already heavy and drifting close. "Good," I murmur .

Sleeping is pulling me under. There's a warning in my head not to sleep yet because Massimo is still here , but I can't fight the tendrils of sleep wrapping around me.

There's a soft caress on my cheek, and that's what pulls me under completely.