11. Margot
Chapter 11
Margot
R estlessness claws at me, fighting to find its way out. It’s been there ever since Massimo dragged me back to his room last night and took what wasn’t his to take. He showed me a glimpse of what he’s capable of; of the monster who will take whatever he wants without asking or thinking twice about it.
And the worst part? I’ve spent all the time since it happened replaying every second. Reliving the way he played my body like an instrument and it betrayed me in the most heinous way. I hate how much I enjoyed it .
Heat coils under my skin; hot and commanding. Marching across the room, I storm into the corridor, my chest heaving with the restless urgency that races through me. I need to get out of this room.
Crossing the threshold, I come to a stop in the corridor, listening to the sounds of the house. I catch my reflection in the window, studying how my shoulders are tense and my eyes wide and unblinking. I feel wild.
In the distance, I see the trees lining the driveway, their leaves a vibrant green from the rain earlier in the morning. I blow out a breath, forcing my body to relax but no sooner has some of the tension ebbed away, it returns with full force.
I shake out my body before closing my eyes and inhaling a lungful of air. My nostrils are assaulted by a chemically lemon scent left behind by whatever cleaning products have been used.
This time, when I blow out my breath, it’s like a calm has washed over me, at least on the surface. Underneath though, there’s still a current running through me. It matches the energy of the house, humming with dark secrets I have no right or desire to uncover; it makes me feel alive .
My bare feet are silent as I pad down the hallway, determined to explore my new home. The polished floors are cool against the soles of my feet and the dim lighting only emphasizes the coldness.
Will this place ever really be a home?
I don’t think so. For as long as I’m forced to live here, married to a man who thinks he can have his own way with every aspect of my life, this place will be my prison.
Massimo’s house is as imposing as the man himself. Despite the paintings adorning them, the stark white walls feel clinical. Endless hallways wind to places I’m yet to explore, but what gets me the most is how the house breathes. Like it knows I'm here under protest and thrives on it.
When I reach the end of the corridor, I hesitate, listening for any sign of movement. Somewhere in the distance, I hear voices, but I can’t tell where they’re coming from. Every sound seems to bounce off the walls and reverberate around me.
I stand tall, lifting my chin before I force myself to continue moving. I need to know this house as well as my enemy does, especially if I want to hold on to any hope of surviving my time here.
* * *
I’ve been wandering the halls for thirty minutes when I eventually stumble upon the library. My sigh of contentment is palpable as I walk into the room. After a dozen locked doors and nearly as many empty spaces, it’s refreshing to see a room actually have a purpose.
The library is a world away from the rest of the house; it’s almost sacred in its comfort. For a moment, I imagine what it would be like to curl up with a book and get lost in a world of fantasy, one that doesn’t have the threat of danger looming around every corner.
Books line two of the four walls with an empty desk in front of one at the back. Two oversized leather armchairs and a matching couch surround an open fireplace, and although the room has things in it, it doesn’t look like it’s utilized. The thought has an ache settling in my chest, heavy and suffocating. It feels like such a waste .
Pressing a hand over my heart, I move around the room wishing away the feeling. It has no place in my emotions, not now anyway.
“Curiosity will get you killed. Did nobody ever tell you that it’s a very dangerous habit to have?” The voice cuts through the quiet, slightly accented, smooth and low.
I whirl around, my eyes wide and my heart pounding in my chest. A man stands in the doorway, blocking the only exit. His tall frame is silhouetted by the corridor's lighting, giving him an almost sinister backdrop.
For the first time since I was forced to come here, I feel a thread of terror weave its way down my spine. Considering who I have just married, the realization clogs the air in my lungs, making it hard to breathe.
His hair is dark but streaked with gray and the smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. My brows tug together. Whoever he is, he carries himself with an air of importance. It’s obvious in his imposing frame as he leans against the doorjamb with one hand in his pocket. Where Massimo is fire, this man is ice. I’m just not sure which might be worse.
He must be an important figure in Massimo’s operation. If he’s that important, why didn’t I see him at the wedding?
The thought is nearly laughable. There were over two hundred people at our wedding and I knew ten of them. No . This guy is somebody , that much I know.
His cold gaze lingers a fraction too long, as though he’s cataloging any weakness I dare to show and filing it away to use against me at a later date. I resist the urge to step back and put some distance between us. “I’m sorry, is this your room?” My voice comes out sharper than I intend, tarnished with a hint of accusation.
“Not at all,” he says, pushing away from the frame and stepping further into the room. “Every room in this house is yours now, is it not? At least that’s what they’ll tell you.” He prowls toward me, his words laced with amusement.
My curiosity is piqued, but I keep my expression neutral. Something tells me that even if I voiced the question on the tip of my tongue, he wouldn’t give me an answer. This guy keeps his cards close to his chest, I can tell that much about him, even if everything else is unreadable.
“Aldo.” He comes to a stop in front of me, holding out his hand. Without missing a beat—because I’ll be damned if I show any weakness—I slip my hand into his. His grip is firm, but it’s the way his eyes study me, like I’m a specimen under a microscope. It sets me on edge even more than I already am. “Massimo’s consigliere . His right-hand man.”
“Margot,” I reply, pulling my hand back and walking around the desk toward the armchairs to put some space between us.
“I know. The new Mrs. Marino. Your marriage to Massimo has caused quite a stir.” He circles the desk following the path I just took. His movements are slow and deliberate, like a hunter trailing his prey. Fear skates down my spine, lifting the hairs on the back of my neck. “Let me give you some friendly advice, Margot.” I grit my teeth at the underlying threat in his tone, tilting my head as I feign nonchalance and wait for him to continue. “If you are going to survive as Massimo’s wife, there are certain rules you should abide by and certain places you should stay out of.”
I hold his gaze, refusing to cower, like I’m certain he either wants or expects me to. My heart races in the confines of my chest. “Thanks for the advice, but I think I’ll be okay.” The corner of my mouth lifts, and I wait for him to make his next move.
His jaw works as he levels me with a stare, something I can’t quite identify swimming in the depths of his almost black eyes. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Margot.” There’s a detached coldness to his tone that speaks volumes of his nature.
I straighten my spine and watch him as he leaves the room. It’s only when I’m certain that he’s gone that I relax and drop into the armchair behind me.
Staring out of the window, I watch a murder of crows swoop through the sky before they take shelter from the light rain in a nearby tree. I never thought I’d look forward to Massimo coming home, but something about that interaction with Aldo has left me feeling unsettled.
As much as I hate to admit it, the house feels a little less dangerous with Massimo in it.