Chapter 16
Alessandro
Standing in the new wrought iron cage extending over the railing of my balcony, I finally feel a sense of inner peace since marrying Sofia. Now, falling or jumping to her death is no longer a possibility. I’m finally gaining control of my life again.
I light up a cigarette, thinking about my potential plans for exterminating Marco. And I realize that he’s the only reason I’m trying to keep Sofia safe and confined. If I end his life, I can simply drop Sofia off at the airport and be done with this whole mess.
But do I even want to let her go?
I still crave my solitude. But the thought of never seeing Sofia again—even if I know she’s safe and with her family—fills me with a sense of loss. This confuses the ever-living-shit out of me and I don’t know what to do with this information.
Sofia sits in the living room, still in my line of sight.
When I found out she nearly escaped, did I move her to the dungeon as I previously threatened? No. Did I inflict pain on her or make her fear me? No, and no… at least any pain I caused she enjoyed.
Instead, I bent her over my desk and nearly gave her an orgasm.
That was my grand plan in the heat of the moment.
And despite how I acted, we didn’t even fuck over my desk because I was so angry at how reckless she was by jumping.
She’s already finding out that my threats are empty. This wasn’t my intention, and in any other situation in my life, if I threaten to do something, I do it. But there’s something about Sofia that makes me fold in an instant.
And that’s why this cage is so brilliant. I don’t have to rely on myself to follow through with something; it’s simply a physical barrier she can’t get through.
I hear Elena’s door open and I meet her gaze through the bars, inhaling another breath from my cigarette.
“What the fuck is that?” She gestures towards my balcony.
“A cage.” I flash her a smile, cigarette between my teeth.
“You’ve completely ruined my view of this angle. I sunbathe staring out in this direction.”
“Then turn your chair around.”
She rolls her eyes.
It’s odd to me that she seems genuinely pissed about this; usually, something this ridiculous would give her a laugh.
But she hasn’t been acting herself ever since the wedding.
Even now, it’s in the middle of the afternoon and she’s not even dressed yet.
I've tried to ask her if she's okay several times and it always gets brushed off.
But I'm awful at that sort of thing, I'm not exactly the type of guy that people open up to.
“I have a good reason for all of this,” I say. “Let me come over. I have to give you your coat back, and I have a story to tell.”
“When did I forget a coat at your place?” She scratches her head, her tangled black hair moving in one clump instead of the usual sleek strands.
“Exactly. You didn’t.”
“Whatever, just come over.”
I put my cigarette out and make my way over to my sister’s, grabbing Elena’s things.
Elena opens the door when I knock. She looks questioningly at her coat, hat, glasses, and boots. “How did you get those?”
“Sofia jumped over to your apartment, took your things and walked past the guards.”
Her eyes go wide, her tone in disbelief. “No.” She quickly pads back over to her balcony, looking towards mine. “She jumped over all of that.”
“I know. Hence the cage.”
“There’s no way I could make it even halfway across that.” She shakes her head. “Huh.”
“What is it?”
“She wasn’t suicidal that one day. She was trying to jump across then.”
I set her things in a neat pile on a table in the hallway and say nothing. She’s likely right, but I don’t want to admit that Sofia played me like that.
“She was that desperate to get away from you?” Elena walks back over to the living room.
“I guess, but it’s not like I’m torturing her or anything. I simply told her not to speak and don’t try to escape. She breaks these rules all the time, so I don’t know what to do about that.”
“You told her… not to speak?”
“Yes.”
“Well, maybe that’s why she jumped. Do you not realize how psychotic that is?”
“She’s a prisoner, Elena. Believe me, she is getting luxurious treatment compared to any other poor soul who has shared that label with her behind the walls of this place. And it’s not like I can treat her like a princess.”
“Yeah, but she’s just a pawn in all of this…”
I shrug. “Plenty of other prisoners were innocent too. And besides, I like my solitude. I can’t handle someone talking to me all day.”
She pauses, analyzing me the way she does. I don’t like it. I have seven years on her, but it didn’t take long for her to read me better than I can read myself.
“Sometimes I worry about you. If it weren’t for me, I think you’d waste away in your home all day in that spare room, living in complete solitude. Are you close to anyone else besides me? Do you know what type of burden that puts on me?”
She’s complained about this before to me, and I know if I don’t shut it down, it’ll only end up in a fight.
And besides, I don’t understand why she’s trying to fix me when it’s clear that she’s going through something.
The bags under her eyes, always looking like she just got up from a nap, make me wonder…
“Are you ill?”
“What?” she hisses.
“You look tired…” Her eyes narrow at me. “I mean, you’re still wearing your robe, and it’s nearly five.”
“Did you not hear anything I just said?”
“Yes. You wish I were more social, and that puts a burden on you. But I don’t know why. And besides, I have Sal, Gio, and Dante…”
“Dante!? He’s literally incapable of feeling human emotions. And Sal? He’s a social butterfly that gets along with anyone.”
What she says about Sal worries me because she’s right. I consider him my closest friend, but where am I on his list of important people? Fifty? A hundred?
I don’t even know what to say to defend myself. I can’t even throw it back in her face; Elena’s significantly more sociable than I am, always inviting various wives over for wine or tea. Attending parties.
But I hate that she’s making this into a problem that it’s not.
I’m happy.
“Are you seriously angry with me?” I ask. “You’ve been acting distant ever since the wedding.”
“I’m fine, Sandro.” She gives me a fake smile.
“Right.” I nod my head slowly. My sister’s place has always felt like a second home to me, and for the first time, I feel like I don’t belong.
And I don’t even know what’s wrong besides her being angry with me for not socializing enough.
But why does that even bother her? I don’t need people like seemingly everyone else on the planet.
I point my thumb towards the door. “Guess I should get going, then. Make sure that Sofia hasn’t chewed through a wall to escape or anything like that.”
She gives me a forced smile before I make my way into the hallway. I nod at my four soldiers, two standing outside my door and two outside of Elena’s—just to be sure.
I try to snap myself out of the funk that conversation put me in.
Sometimes I feel like everyone else got a guidebook to navigating basic human relationships that I never received.
I suppose I could have some type of diagnosable thing…
but I know deep down it’s the amount of isolation I was under growing up.
Sofia is still on the couch where I left her.
Despite her not needing to get dressed or ready for anything, her hair looks perfect.
Her eyelids smoky. She even has accessories to match her outfit.
In fact, ever since we nearly screwed over my office desk, she’s dressed up and looked nice.
Seductively, too. Yesterday morning she was in these tiny spandex shorts that left no room for my imagination.
She catches me staring at her from the hallway, and she smiles at me.
Smiles. Believe me, I know this isn’t sincere and she’s shifting her escape plans from launching herself over to my sister’s balcony to getting in my pants to see if that will help her.
The problem is—I fear that it’s working.
“Can I ask you something?” I say before I question whether this is a good idea.
She smiles. “That depends.”
“On what?”
“What you’d do to me if I refused to answer you.”
I take a seat next to her, trying my best to ignore what she said, but I’m sure she can see that I’m flustered. “My sister, Elena… she seems depressed, and I don’t know why.”
“Well?” Sofia crosses her legs. “What’s going on in her life? Does she suffer from clinical depression or anything like that?”
“No, and no. The only thing different in her life is that I got married to you.”
“Does she hate me?” She shrugs, her gold earrings jingling at the sides of her face. Those are new. She’s had basic studs in since the day of our wedding.
“No. She even seemed concerned about you.”
“Are you spending less time with her? You eat nearly all of your dinners with her, so I can’t imagine it’s that she misses you.”
I look away, feeling guilty. I told Sofia that I was going over to Elena’s most evenings, but I’ve been eating my meals in isolation in my office; Elena is often too busy.
“Have you tried simply asking her?” Sofia asks.
“I asked her if she was ill and…”
“Stop.” Sofia covers her mouth with one hand to laugh and rests her other hand on my arm.
My heart pounds in my chest at this bit of contact.
“You asked her if she was sick? Are you crazy? Never ask a woman that. Do you know how annoying it is when we get that question and we only look ‘sick’ because we didn’t put makeup on yet? ”
Shit. Maybe that’s all that was going on with her. Again, is that in a book somewhere that everyone has read except for me?
Sofia’s brown eyes are glowing as she fights back more laughter. She’s a good actress. Even though I’m sure she wants to be laughing at me right now, her body language seems like she’s laughing with me.
“Huh.” I pull my arm away, feeling as though I’ve lost this exchange in many ways. Then I stand up and take a few steps towards the hallway.
“Wait.”
I nearly ignore her and close myself in my room, but it’s Sofia, so I turn around at her request.
“I wasn’t trying to upset you.” She leans forward, her v-neck top showing off her cleavage. “You’re just… funny sometimes without realizing it, I think.”
I snap my eyes back to her face, sensing the trap. “Just… please attempt not to talk to me the rest of the day.”
She deflates at this and mutters under her breath, “You talked to me first.”
I leave her alone and close myself away, feeling completely out of control of my life—like I’m fucking everything up.