Chapter 3
Elena
Bossy. Arrogant. Utterly gorgeous. That sums up Maximo Pontrelli, my protector and second cousin from distant family in Italy.
While I was born and raised in New York, he’s from our ancestor’s homeland.
We never even met until I was twenty-one and showed up on their doorstep, seeking refuge.
That day is seared into my memory forever.
I met my father’s cousin, Vittorio Pontrelli, who I thought would be my guardian and protector while I was staying with great-aunt Antonia.
But when we arrived at her home, he announced that his eldest son would be keeping an eye on me.
That’s when Maximo appeared and I drowned in his stunning blue-green eyes.
He looked like every girl’s fantasy hero with that strong jawline and wavy black hair just long enough to sweep into his eyes.
My fingers itched to brush it from his forehead.
I was both instantly attracted to him and repulsed by everything he represents.
To this day he remains the most annoyingly handsome man I’ve ever laid eyes on. He’s also everything I despise in mafiosos. Broody, suave, and way too attractive in that dark Armani suit.
Most of all, he’s dangerous.
Yes, he’s in charge of my security, but that hardly makes him safe.
He’s trapping me here with him for no reason—other than to stroke his own ego.
I’m sure of it. I don’t need his protection, I’m no longer his ward, but he’s apparently too attached to being in control to give up his position. To give up his power over me.
Which is a setback, an obstacle to my escape. How long is he going to hold me here under the guise of protection?
Wariness swims through my veins. I hate how he makes me so nervous that I can barely think straight, much less articulate my thoughts. When I’m around him I always feel too warm, like the room’s too hot and there’s not enough air in the space.
He opens the door to my room—at least I’ve been given my own sanctuary—and my breath hitches.
Everything is… pink. My favorite color.
For several long seconds, I stand there and take it all in. Various shades of pink come together harmoniously in the space, from the palest pale to a vibrant shade of magenta for accents. It’s not a little girl’s room, it’s sophisticated and mature. Stylish, even.
In addition to consisting entirely of the color I love, bookshelves line the walls, and a wide, furry chair sits beneath a floor lamp. The room’s perfect for reading, and can certainly house my collection of books. It’s like the room was designed especially… for me.
With a confused frown, I turn to Maximo, noting the satisfaction in his breathtaking sea green eyes. They remind me of the ocean every time we make eye contact. An ocean I could drown in if I’m not careful.
How did he know my favorite color? My love for books and reading? This space is my dream room, like he snatched the vision straight out of my head. But he can’t possibly know that. How could he?
I’ve known him for several years, but he’s always been professional, aloof, and at times, even cold.
Since I spent most of that time holed up in my great aunt’s house, Maximo rarely had to be in my presence.
He set up the initial security system then went about his business as usual, only checking in on me a few times each year when he visited Aunt Antonia.
But all that time, he must have been watching me…
Right? Or else he had someone spying on me.
Both possibilities make me uncomfortable, until I shake those crazy thoughts from my head.
Maybe he asked Ravenna. My sister knows how much I love pink Even so, this is what he did with that information? Bring my fantasy into reality? Why?
Suddenly, I’m all too aware of how close we’re standing.
My skin heats. My elbow tingles as if I can still feel the ghost of his fingers from earlier.
Why had he touched me like that? He’s never touched me before.
He’s barely ever glanced my way. I mean nothing to him. I’m a job, an obligation, nothing more.
Except this room says otherwise. It tells a different story.
My spine tingles with a chill. Maximo’s been acting differently since I got off that jet. What’s changed? I don’t understand.
“Do you like it?” he asks, openly studying my face.
I give the room one more sweeping glance, playing at nonchalance. “It’s fine.”
“Fine?” He frowns.
“Yeah.” I step away from him and hug my middle. “It’ll work just fine.” It will be more than fine for the temporary time that I’ll be living under his roof. “I’d like to see my sister now.”
He grunts, sounding slightly irritated. His features harden, growing serious and unrelenting. “You will. Tomorrow.”
I blink, startled by his refusal. “Tomorrow? No, I—”
“Tomorrow.” His tone indicates this decision is final. “I’ll leave you to settle in. Get some rest. We’re going out tonight.”
My brows pinch. “Going out? Where?”
“You’ll find out when we get there. Wear the dress hanging in the closet, and meet me in the foyer at eight o’clock sharp. We have somewhere to be and it’s important.” He turns, closing the door behind him as he exits.
Annoyed, I fume. My hands fall to my sides, fingers balling into fists.
This. This is what I hate most about the world I was born into.
All these bossy, controlling men who think their word is God’s.
I hate it. I hate him and everything he represents.
This world where men rule and women are pawns.
Where he thinks he can order me to do anything and I must obey.
Not so long ago, that was my reality too. Not any more. I’ve grown up. I see what goes on and I will no longer play my part in it.
I stalk to the walk-in closet, with the intention of destroying the dress he ordered me to wear tonight. That will show him that he can’t boss me around. Obviously, words are no use against him, as he’s incapable of hearing the answer no. My actions are a better weapon to use.
If he wants me to go out with him tonight, he’ll have to learn to ask nicely. But since he didn’t, he’ll have to face the consequences. He’ll soon learn that I’m not the sweet mafia princess I was all those years ago.
That girl died in a filthy cage, praying for someone to save her.
She didn’t make it out of there alive after all, just as she knew she wouldn’t. What emerged from those iron bars was me. Whoever I am. All I know is that I’m not the same Elena who was kidnapped and held captive by two ruthless men in a grungy apartment.
That girl was waiting to be rescued. I now know that I must rescue myself—no one else is going to do it for me.
Switching on the light, I peer into the closet, and freeze. All my destructive intentions drain away as I stare at the solo dress hanging on a bar. It’s pink. And the most gorgeous evening gown I’ve ever seen. Fit for a fairy princess. Or an otherworldly queen.
My mouth goes dry. My eyes narrow. Maximo’s playing real dirty.
I reach for it, my fingers brush against the delicate silk. There’s a designer tag neatly sewn on the inside. It reads Skye Adair Couture.
With a sigh, my anger deflates. I’d never forgive myself if I ruined this beautiful work of wearable art. All I want to do is slip into it and feel that soft fabric against my skin. To drench myself in such beauty… a fantasy come true.
I snatch my hand back as if the dress burned my skin.
If I’m going to get out of here and make my escape, I need to keep my head out of the clouds.
I know exactly what all of this is. The bedroom and this dress are both tricks.
They’re bribes to keep me docile and compliant.
I need to see through them, to see how Maximo hopes to manipulate and control me by giving me what I most desire.
How he seems to know me so well, I’m not sure. Ravenna would have told me if Maximo spoke with her to get this much information about me. I suppose I should check, just in case.
I open the text message thread on my phone and type.
Elena:
I’ve arrived. Thanks for the heads up about Maximo.
Ravenna:
I’m so sorry about not telling you he’d be there instead of me. The stronzo actually threatened me not to interfere. I shouldn’t have listened to him, but he pulled the whole I’m don of the family card. Bastardo! Are you okay?
Elena:
I’m fine. I’ll see you tomorrow. I was just wondering if Maximo ever asked you specific questions about me. My likes and tastes, that sort of thing.
Ravenna:
No. We’ve never really talked much at all. When we did it was always about security measures. Why?
Elena:
No reason. I’ll tell you about it tomorrow.
Ravenna:
See you then.
Hm. So he didn’t get his information from my sister. I suppose it doesn’t matter how he came by it, I won’t let him manipulate me like this.
I can’t give him that kind of control over me. It’s a slippery slope from ball gowns and bookcases to who knows what dark, depraved end he has in mind for me. No, I won’t let this happen.
Closing the closet door, I step into the middle of the bedroom and stare at my surroundings.
This is a cage.
A very pretty cage, but no different in function than the one those men kept me in.
My chest clenches. Coming home was a terrible mistake. I need to leave before it’s too late. Before I’m trapped here forever. Until then, I have to make Maximo believe I’ll be good.