Chapter 25
CHAPTER 25
ALISON
“ B uonasera, Nessa .” Good evening. “I wasn’t expecting to be graced with such good company today,” Vincenzo greeted me from the bed as soon as I peeked into the room, hesitating to enter. “Please, come in.” He tried to lift himself a little on the bed, and I rushed to help him sit.
“Hi.” I managed to whisper as soon as he was more comfortable. The clear pain on his face drenched my heart in sadness. He patted the spot on the bed next to him for me to sit, and I did as requested. “How are you feeling? I tried to ask at the front desk, but they didn’t want to tell me anything.”
“I know you did.” He smiled, proud of that statement. “I’m doing better. But I do need to go back home and rest. My body is resenting me for the exhausting ordeals I’ve been putting it through these last couple of days.”
“I guess that’s a wise plan,” I simply stated, a sad smile slightly curling my lips. I fought the urge to tell him to take me with him. To forget I ever asked for the six months of freedom. The only freedom I needed right now was from this burning pain that tore a hole through my chest.
“What’s wrong, Nessa? ”
“Nothing, why? I’m fine. I’m just tired. It was a long day.” I’m not sure I even convinced myself, how could I think I would convince him?
“ Riprova .” Try again. And as predicted, I didn’t. “I’m still waiting on that name. Tell me who he is, and I will gift you his head on a silver platter and his balls for the matching set.” He paused, gauging my, once again, surprised reaction to his accurate guessing. Could I even call it that? He seemed to rarely be mistaken, or I was just as transparent as clear water. “I can see the pain swirling in those beautiful green eyes. It’s deeper than it was the other day. How can I help?”
I couldn’t hold back anymore. Here he was, fighting an invisible army without any weapon that could withstand it, without any odds in his favor, running only on faith and will to survive, asking me how he could help. My tears and sobs overlooked all courtesies, not asking permission to explode as I covered my face in shame. My problems seemed small and insignificant compared to his monsters. Vincenzo pulled me to him, laying my head on his chest, trying to soothe my pain as he stroked my hair. Max’s words were playing on repeat inside my head, chipping off another piece of my heart each time I heard them again. Each time, I felt them again.
They spoke about who he saw me as, and the notion that that was what I was to him broke me even further. There was only one way he could dent me like this. There was only one explanation, and I wished it wasn’t true. Not now. Not with him. He had inadvertently filled the hollow spot in my heart, only to make it implode from within. I would never lose control like that again. I would never again put myself in that vulnerably weak position. My happiness is in my hands and my hands alone.
I tried to control my tears, swallowing back the pain that was leaking down my cheeks. I cleaned my face with the back of my hand, trying to compose myself again, feeling terribly guilty for being so selfish.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured.
“It’s okay. Nobody is strong all the time. You can always be you around me, Nessa. No walls or fake sympathy.” I nodded in agreement. It was like he knew my struggles. My need to find myself and be my own person, away from the shadows of my family. “I will gladly hear if you want to talk.”
“Thank you, but not yet. I’m still not sure myself.” I managed to say in a controlled and more unaffected tone. “But I would like to know about that engagement party.” Deflection. Always my weapon of choice when the conversation didn’t suit me.
“I see you got my gift.”
“I did. It’s beautiful. Thank you.” I smiled more sincerely now. He was feeling ill, but still, his thought was on me.
“I’ll be fully recovered in two weeks, and my staff is already dealing with the preparations for the soirée. I will have Elenor contact you in case you have any wishes you would like to see fulfilled for the evening. It can be your show to run if you want to.” He picked up my hand in his, taking it to his lips and placing a sweet kiss on my skin. “You’ll soon become my queen and every wish of yours is my command.”
There was no doubt he knew how to make a woman feel special, but as perfect as he was, he didn’t hit the right cords inside my chest, even though I profoundly wished he did. Maybe one day, but just not today.
Our moment was interrupted by a knock on the door. I turned my head to see who it was, not bothering to move from the intimate seat I had taken so close to Vincenzo .
“Come in.” He said louder, his voice coming out a little shaky and strained.
“Excuse me,” Max said, opening the door. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw him. I tried to tame the beast in me that howled in pain as a wooden stake trespassed my heart, fighting the urge to crumble and cry again. I couldn’t help the breath that hitched in my chest as his fucking perfectly beautiful face made me wish he had come here to apologize and sail away with me into the sunset. How fucking masochistic could I be? “Can I have a word with you, Alison?”
“What do you want, Max?” I asked annoyed, getting up from my seat on the bed and walking towards the door where he stood in silence, waiting for me to come closer. I tried to hold my head high, faking to be unaffected by his presence or his lingering words.
“The doctor just released Francesca, and we are heading out. Do you need a ride home or something?” I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. I don’t even know how they didn’t get stuck at the back of my head, such was the force of the gesture.
“Seriously?” I chuckled, waiting for his reply but never getting anything above a shrug. “No. I’m sure my fiancée could provide that if I needed it. But I’m a grown woman, I don’t need a chaperone.” How on earth was he able to say those horrible things to me just a moment ago and be acting all nice and charming now, as if nothing ever happened? As if he hadn’t purposefully hurt me. I could see in his eyes that he knew fairly well what he was doing, and he chose to do it anyway. He chose to treat me like trash and shut down my feelings.
“Okay, just thought I’d ask. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He even had the audacity to smile.
No, you fucking won’t .
I couldn’t even finish that thought before Max bent down and placed a lingering kiss on my cheek as his hand held the back of my head. I shook my head, freeing myself from his grasp. I was balancing between shock and disgust as he pulled away, my skin burning right where he had kissed me. The same tingling feeling I had felt every time he had touched me before. What the fuck? I looked up at him, my brow furrowed in confusion and disdain, seeing that his eyes were locked on Vincenzo.
Fucking asshole. He was establishing some kind of dominance over me in front of my soon-to-be husband. Faking this intimacy. The exact same one he had just stomped and pissed all over a few moments ago. He was rubbing a handful of salt in my freshly open wound. I felt revolted. I felt sick. I felt offended. What the fuck was his game?
“Don Massimo,” He finally greeted before turning to leave, not hiding the acidic tone in his voice. I tried to wipe the confused expression off my face before turning to Vincenzo, but knowing by now that he would have picked up on something. Everything about this little visit was strange, how could he not?
“So, Max, huh?”
“What?” I almost shouted.
“He’s the one, right?” I let my head hang low, my body language speaking for me. “That makes things a little harder.”
“Tell me about it.” Honesty got the best of me, making me open up the game with Vincenzo. There was no use in denying it. “Either way, it’s in the past. I would much rather talk about the future. When can I book my flight to California?” Again, taking the focus off myself so that I wouldn’t be asked questions to which I had no answer.
“That eager not to talk about it?” He smiled and gave in, cutting me some much-needed slack. “I’ll have my jet ready for you whenever you want. The engagement party is two weeks from Saturday. You are welcome to come whenever you want before that.”
I stayed a while longer as he spoke about my new home and about the city. Soon enough, I could sense his tiredness in his strained voice, so I bid my goodbyes and left with the promise to be back the next day.
I had been holding on by a thread. A blend of anger and agony propelling me away from there.
I practically raced home, faster than the speed of light. My foot was heavy on the gas pedal as I channeled all that anger into a manic drive away from the hospital. Away from those walls that witnessed my first heartbreak.
I kept admonishing myself for being so stupid. For baring my neck that way for him to simply snap it. Even the slightest doubts I had of him not reciprocating the feelings I had were child’s play compared to what he had said and the way he had said it.
I’m not one to play the status card, but I was fighting the urge to ask Matt to have him fired. Finished. Fucking hunted. If only he knew about it, I would probably not even need to ask. But his pain wouldn’t lessen mine, and at the end of the day, I was still the one who could sleep with a clear conscience.
As soon as I got home, I locked the door behind me, slamming my back on it and sliding to the floor. My once unbreakable armor shattering like shields of glass. All the frustration was now leaving my body in unrelenting tears of torment. There’s no way that from the outside, someone could do this amount of damage. It was clearly an inside job. I just couldn’t pinpoint when or why I had let Max in.
His words and disgusted expression when I was about to spill the contents of my heart for the first time struck me hard and low. I was allowing myself to be vulnerable, placing my heart at his feet, my possible happiness in his hands, and all he did was crush any ounce of hope I still had. Growing up in a broken home had a special way of undermining certain beliefs. Seeing the pain and dejection in a hell of a strong woman like my mother surely made me question the point in all of it.
Marriage. Nothing but a contract for shared housing and sex benefits.
Being rejected by the person who should love you the most in this world poisons whatever still stands after seeing all that shit through the eyes of a fragile teenager. I had felt that sting time and again, every time Daddy dearest showed no interest in me. So sue me for not believing in happily ever afters.
Even so, I dared to dream. I dared to let go of the demons from the past, and look where it got me. Sitting in a puddle of my own tears. Why did it have to be him? Why couldn’t I feel the same way with Vincenzo, who had been nothing but nice and attentive?
I ran out of pained tears to cry, so I shoveled myself off the floor and took out all my painting supplies and an empty canvas. I hadn’t painted in years. I wasn’t even sure the paints weren’t all dried out, but I needed an escape. I needed a healthier outlet for all I was feeling.
I changed into a large paint-stained t-shirt and socks, pulling my hair up in a messy bun. I had no idea what I was doing, but I closed my eyes and remembered what Jackson had said the other day. “Feel, don’t think.”
Black, white, grey, and red. Splatters of angry strokes, each one fueled by the emotions running wild in me as a new flow of tears blurred my vision. Jackson was right. I had to feel. I had to feel it all so I knew never to feel this again. It was like a self-inflicted punishment for stupidity.
I fought through my feelings, trying to be as brave as I could, mentally replaying it all like a fucking movie. I was D’Artagnan, and my sword was the brush in my hand as I battled these new demons, painting a picture of my soul. They were now a part of me, a part of who I was. A part I wanted to sever as I severed her perfect white wings.
All that I was but didn’t want to be, I gave to her, separating myself from the toxic pieces of me that were tearing me down. All those emotions captured and caged in that canvas, splitting myself in two.
There she was, looking back at me, taking all the air out of my lungs. Was that really what I had become? My own image on the canvas, marred by the resignation of a fate forced upon her, underlaying an emptiness of a broken heart. She was fragile and vulnerable, representing what I wanted to leave behind, the pieces of myself I wanted to cut free.
I finally stopped after hours, exhausted from it all. I took a step back to see the full picture. I felt another pang of pain in my chest once I saw exactly what I had created. I had painted myself sitting on the floor, grasping my bleeding heart, broken in two as my wings lay cut and broken at my feet. I had painted myself as he saw me, as he had called me, un fottuto angelo, a fucking angel, fallen and broken.
My wings were, in fact, broken, but I would find a way to fly without them.