Chapter 22
Bianca Ferrucci
I was in the garden, watching the flowers sway in the gentle breeze, but the sound of Tiziano shouting on the phone invaded the silence.
He was somewhere inside the house, but his loud, irritated voice was clear enough to reach me.
He seemed like a man who was constantly overwhelmed, as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders.
Minutes later, he appeared on the veranda, the phone still pressed to his ear. His eyes found me immediately, and I froze beneath the weight of that intense stare. Even while arguing with whoever was on the other end of the line in a cutting tone, he never looked away from me.
I couldn’t deny it, he was incredibly attractive. Everything about him, his posture, his commanding expression, even the way he held the phone, radiated power. And it unsettled me, leaving me torn between admiration and fear.
“Bianca, we’re going to have to go back,” he said, still holding the phone to his ear.
“All right,” I replied quickly, getting to my feet in a hurry.
He ended the call abruptly, tossing the phone aside before walking toward me. His hand settled firmly on my shoulder, and he looked at me in a way that left me speechless.
“You made all of this incredible.” His voice was lower now, almost gentle. “I wasn’t wrong when I chose you.”
I froze for a moment, unable to process what he had just said. Was that a compliment? Approval? A small, pleased smile escaped my lips before I could stop it.
The truth was, I hadn’t received words of approval for as long as I could remember.
And it was in that moment that I realized just how confused my mind was.
He owned me. He had bought me, taken me as a possession.
But at the same time, I felt as though he were the only person capable of protecting me from everything that had always terrified me.
It was contradictory. Irritating. And, in a way, frightening.
I watched him for a moment and wondered, for the first time, what I truly felt.
He turned his back, letting his hand slide from my shoulder as he picked up the phone again. I remained there, still trying to understand what had just happened.
He quickly dialed a number and raised the phone to his ear.
“Set it up with him for tonight,” he said, ending the call without any kind of goodbye.
For a moment, I thought he might look at me again, but instead, he remained with his back turned, taking a deep breath and running a hand through his hair. He always seemed to be on the verge of exploding.
I took the opportunity to leave, trying to be discreet. I walked back inside the house, my hands trembling as I smoothed the hem of my dress.
I went to the kitchen, trying to find something to do that would occupy my mind. I picked up a cloth and began wiping the spotless counter, more to calm myself than because it needed cleaning.
The sound of heavy footsteps echoed behind me, and I knew it was him before I even turned around.
“Bianca.” His voice sounded like an order, even when he was only saying my name.
I slowly turned to face him.
“Get ready. We’re leaving in half an hour.”
It wasn’t long before I heard the helicopter landing on the property. Tiziano appeared in the upstairs hallway, coming down with a suitcase in one hand. I watched him, trying to understand what he could possibly have in it, since we hadn’t brought anything with us when we came.
The sound of the helicopter blades was deafening, but this time, the journey felt different. Sitting beside him, my body was tense. I avoided looking directly at Tiziano, but I could feel his presence as if he occupied all the space around me.
“Are you comfortable?” he asked suddenly, raising his voice to be heard over the noise.
“Yes,” I replied quickly, my hands clasped tightly in my lap.
He didn’t say anything else, but I could feel his eyes on me. I looked out the window, trying to focus on the landscape passing beneath us, but his sudden movement made me turn my head.
Tiziano was watching me closely, his eyes analyzing every detail of my face. Before I could react, I felt his fingers touch my chin, holding it gently but firmly enough to keep me from looking away.
“Stop avoiding me,” he murmured.
“I’m not…” I started to reply, but the words died when he tilted his head and moved closer.
His lips touched mine, and I froze. It was unlike anything I had ever experienced. There was no hesitation, only possession. He didn’t ask, he took. The kiss was intense, demanding, reaffirming what I already knew: I was his.
When he finally pulled away, my lips were warm, and my breathing was uneven. He said nothing, simply turned back toward the window as if the moment had been nothing more than a need fulfilled.
As soon as we landed, the driver was already waiting to take us to the mansion. On the way, I tried to process what had just happened, but Tiziano seemed oblivious, his eyes fixed on his phone as he answered messages and gave instructions.
When we arrived, Luigi and Enzo were at the entrance, talking quietly. They turned as soon as they saw the car pull up.
“Welcome back,” Luigi said with a smile, but his eyes moved from Tiziano to me, assessing.
“How was the trip?” Enzo asked.
“Productive,” Tiziano replied curtly, getting out of the car and coming around to my side. He took my hand, guiding me toward the entrance.
“I see you’re taking good care of your wife,” Enzo commented with a smirk that was clearly meant to provoke a reaction.
Tiziano stopped, turning toward him with a cold expression, but didn’t answer.
Enzo laughed nervously.
Tiziano’s uncle, on the other hand, watched in silence.
We entered the mansion. Tiziano walked ahead, and I followed him straight toward the stairs.
“Come with me,” he said without turning around, already climbing the staircase that seemed to lead into a long hallway above.
I followed behind him, my hands nervously gripping the hem of my dress.
When we reached the upper floor, he opened a set of double doors that revealed a bedroom fit for royalty.
The floor was polished dark wood, and the enormous windows with heavy curtains offered a breathtaking view of the gardens.
In the center stood a massive bed with impeccably white sheets and an ornate headboard.
“This is our bedroom,” he said, stopping beside the door and crossing his arms as he watched my reaction.
I stepped inside slowly, my feet sinking into the soft rug. The décor was tasteful, nothing seemed excessive or out of place. Everything there felt like an extension of Tiziano himself.
“It’s… beautiful,” I managed to say, still impressed.
He moved closer, leaning casually against the door as he watched me explore the room. I ran my hand over the curtain fabric and looked toward the small nook beside the window, where there was a chaise and a small table with a vase of fresh flowers.
“There’s more,” he murmured, walking toward another door in the corner of the room.
He opened it, revealing a massive walk-in closet with shelves already filled with clothes that appeared to be for me.
“Choose whatever you want, but save the more formal dresses for important occasions.” His voice was practical, as if the situation were completely normal.
I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to process all of it. A closet just for me, an enormous bedroom, it felt like an entirely different world.
“Is there anything else I should know?” I asked, trying to sound casual, but my voice betrayed my nervousness.
He smirked, his gaze slightly amused.
“Only that you belong here now.” He stepped closer, lightly gripping my chin and forcing me to look at him. “And to me.”