Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
SIENNA
When I open my eyes, the first thing I notice is the sunlight streaming through the heavy drapes of the master suite. The second thing I notice is that the space beside me is completely empty.
Of course, it is. It’s not like I expected to wake up in Alessandro’s arms or anything.
Then, the vivid memory of last night comes rushing back in a sudden, overwhelming wave—the fury in his eyes, the absolute weight of his command, and the way the fierce defiance in my chest melted into a complete surrender on the bed of this very room.
I feel my face instantly heat up, a deep, burning blush creeping up my neck. I clamp my eyes shut, pressing my palms against my hot cheeks, furious at myself for giving in so easily to the very man who bought and paid for my life.
Irritated by my own thoughts, I quickly slip from the bed before the ghosts of last night can trap me here. I grab a bathrobe from the bathroom, throwing it over my shoulders and tying the sash with a vicious jerk.
I don't bother looking around the suite. I open the heavy double doors and slip into the quiet hallway, heading straight back down the east wing to the violet room. Coming back to my own space feels like crossing back over a border. This is my territory.
Once I’m safely behind my own closed door, I strip off the robe and step into a long, scalding shower, scrubbing my skin until it turns pink, trying to wash away the lingering sensation of his hands. Afterward, I rifle through my unpacked luggage and change into a simple, comfortable day dress.
I stand in front of the vanity mirror, brushing out my hair.
It’s my very first official day living under this roof, and a strange, hollow emptiness settles in my chest. I don’t know what to do with myself.
Back at my father's estate, my days were dictated by routine, by spending time with my sisters, and by bracing for the next storm.
Here, inside the Gallo empire, I am an outsider playing the role of a queen in a palace I didn't ask to rule.
A sharp, demanding growl from my stomach breaks the silence of the room.
I drop the hairbrush onto the vanity with a soft sigh. First things first. I decide to eat before figuring anything else out. I need a clear head and a full stomach if I'm going to face whatever—or whoever—is waiting for me here.
I head downstairs, the grand staircase feeling even more daunting in the bright morning light. Following the faint scent of fresh coffee, I make my way toward the dining room, but the sheer reality of my new life hits me before I even step inside.
Two massive, stone-faced security guards stand like statues right by the kitchen door, their hands crossed over their tailored suits. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch the shadow of another guard pacing past the tall windows, keeping watch over the manicured courtyard.
And right there, sitting at the head of the long mahogany table, is Alessandro.
He is quietly reading through a stack of files, a cup of espresso beside his hand. He acts as if having an armed garrison in his breakfast nook is the most normal thing in the world.
I don’t speak to him. I deliberately keep my gaze fixed ahead, pulling out a chair a few seats away from him.
He doesn’t look up to acknowledge my presence either, his focus entirely consumed by the papers in his hands.
The only sound in the room is the crisp rustle of turning pages and the distant chirp of birds outside.
A maid quietly glides into the room, setting a beautifully prepared plate of eggs, fruit, and warm pastries in front of me before disappearing back into the kitchen.
I pick up a fork and try to eat, but the food feels like ash in my throat. Every time I take a bite, I feel the heavy, unblinking gazes of the guards by the door.
Between the armed men tracking my movements and the silent, imposing presence of my new husband at the end of the table, I feel like I am suffocating. It feels less like a morning meal and more like an execution row.
The tension becomes too much to bear. I drop my fork onto the porcelain plate with a sharp clatter, the noise echoing loudly through the silent, vaulted room.
I look up, my gaze locking onto the side of Alessandro's face as he continues to scan his reports. "Can you please excuse the guards? Can we just eat breakfast in peace?"
"No," he says simply. His voice is flat, devoid of any emotion, and he doesn't even bother to look up from the page he's reading.
A spark of anger ignites in my chest, burning away the heavy suffocating feeling. "Alessandro, I am asking you a simple courtesy. I don't need three armed men watching me chew my food. It's ridiculous."
"They stay, Sienna," he replies, finally turning a page with a crisp, deliberate snap of the paper.
"I feel like a prisoner in my own skin!" I burst out, leaning forward and gripping the edge of the mahogany table.
"I can't take a step in this house without running into security.
I can't look out a window without seeing a guard staring back at me.
If you wanted an inmate, you should have just left me at the police precinct! "
At that, Alessandro finally closes the file. He sets it down squarely on the table and turns his dark, unyielding eyes onto me. The air in the room instantly grows heavier.
"You are not a prisoner, Sienna. You are my wife," he says, his tone dropping into that low, authoritative rumble that brooks no argument. "But the guards are non-negotiable."
"It sure feels like a prison," I scoff, crossing my arms tightly over my chest. "You drag me from room to room, you dictate what I wear, and now I have to have an audience just to drink a cup of coffee. You're treating me like a liability."
"I am treating you like a target, because that is exactly what you are," Alessandro fires back, his jaw clenching as he leans toward me.
"Luca is still missing. He is out there, he is backed into a corner, and he is highly dangerous.
He knows exactly who you are to me now, and he knows that hitting you is the fastest way to bleed the Gallo empire.
So lose the attitude. Those men are here to ensure you stay alive, whether you like their company or not. "
I scrape my chair back hard against the floor, pushing away from the table. I am too annoyed, too thoroughly exhausted by his arrogance to spend another single second in his presence. I don't care about the food anymore.
I turn to leave the dining room, but his voice cuts through the air, stopping me dead in my tracks before I can reach the threshold.
"I have already ordered the staff to move your things back into my suite," he says, his tone entirely casual, as if he's merely commenting on the weather.
I whip around, my hands balling into fists at my sides. "You did what?"
Alessandro doesn't blink. He leans back in his chair, folding his hands over his stomach. "We are going to share a room as a married couple, whether you like it or not. You either do this the easy way, or you do it the hard way. The choice is entirely yours."
A bitter, venomous laugh escapes my throat. I stare at him, letting all the hatred I'm harboring shine clearly in my eyes.
"Fuck you, Alessandro," I spit out.
I turn on my heel and walk away before he can say another word, not caring that the guards by the door are standing right there witnessing the entire exchange.
He gets on my nerves so much it makes my blood boil.
I stomp all the way back up the grand staircase, my feet heavy and furious against the steps, until I slam the door of my room behind me.
I pace the length of the space, my breath coming in short, ragged gasps as I look at my suitcases, waiting for the staff to inevitably show up and drag them away.
My stomach lets out another empty, painful growl. I am still hungry, but the last thing I am going to do is go back downstairs and give him the satisfaction of looking at me.
A few minutes later, a soft, tentative knock sounds against the heavy wood of my door. I freeze in the middle of the room, my jaw clenching as I brace myself. I assume it’s the staff arriving to pack up my life and drag my suitcases back to his master suite.
I steel myself, march over, and rip the door open, ready to put up a fight.
Instead, I find Elena standing in the corridor, carrying a large, silver tray stacked with my breakfast, a fresh glass of juice, and a steaming pot of tea.
She offers me a small smile. "Mr. Gallo told me to bring this up to you, ma'am. He said you hadn't finished your breakfast."
I bite down hard on my bottom lip, a sudden, unexpected knot of emotion tightening in my throat. The white-hot anger in my chest deflates just a fraction, and I hate myself for feeling a little bit better because of a simple gesture.
"Thank you, Elena," I say softly, reaching out to take the heavy tray from her hands. "I appreciate it."
"Of course, Mrs. Gallo. Let me know if you need anything else," she says before giving a polite nod and stepping back down the hallway.
I shut the door with my elbow and carry the tray over to the small sitting area by the window. As I set it down, a small, folded piece of heavy cream paper catches my eye, tucked right beside the plate.
I sit down, staring at it for a moment before I reach out and open it slowly. Written in a sharp, elegant, and entirely masculine script are just a few lines:
You’re too stubborn for your own good, dolcezza, but I’m going to enjoy breaking it out of you. I have a meeting to attend. I’ll see you later.
- A.
I stare at the words, the paper rough against my fingertips. Before I even realize what I'm doing, I feel a small, involuntary smile tugging at the corners of my lips.
The moment I catch myself doing it because of a note from the man who currently holds me captive, I instantly wipe it off my face. I shake my head, annoyed at how easily he can shift my mood, and toss the paper onto the table.
Determined to ignore him and the strange flip my stomach just performed, I pick up my fork and forcefully stuff a piece of fruit into my mouth, chewing aggressively as I stare out the window.