I used to pride myself in the fact that I had absolute control over my life. I was always prepared, and when surprises came, I knew how to tackle them. Now it seemed that control was slipping through my fingers, and it had been happening ever since Alessandro De Santis came into my life.
The man kills on a whim. He built his reputation on fear, and yet, here I was, aching for a man like that, imagining he would try to get close.
I shouldn't want him. He was toying with me, and I knew that. But why…?
Everyone had a point when they said being a nun didn't suit me, but I had hoped to turn my life around at the convent. I had needed a sanctuary… a place to mourn my father after he died and to find myself again. More importantly, I no longer wanted to be Kendra Marino. But it's true what they say: "You can take the girl out of the hood, but you can't take the hood out of the girl." And Alessandro wouldn't stop trying to bring back that girl who was supposed to be the Marino family heiress.
I not only had to deal with his games, but I also had to resist him as a physical temptation.
"Did you often touch yourself?"
That question haunted me for the past few days. I buried my face in between my knees, wondering why I had lost the ability to speak at that moment.
"So stupid," I muttered through gritted teeth, resisting the urge to look at the camera in the room.
Alessandro had told me he was the one watching. He was playing some kind of game with me… messing with me, then disappearing for days, leaving me with nothing but my thoughts.
Sitting up straighter, I tugged instinctively at the hem of my short dress, trying to pull it lower.
"He knows what he's doing," I whispered to myself.
I let my mind replay everything that happened the day he gave me this dress as a gift.
He had stood so close to me, leaning in, letting his lips graze my ear. And like a devil on my shoulder, he whispered:
"You're allowed to touch yourself here, Sister. I know a woman has needs. I just can't promise you I won't be watching."
I wished I had done more than glare at him. Even now, I had to press my thighs together to dull the throbbing between my legs.
"You're allowed to fantasize on this moment," he had added. "You have the room to yourself."
He walked away and didn't return for four days. The only faces I had seen were the staff who brought food. Even Matteo seemed nowhere to be found.
I had been feeling grimy that day, but I refused to shower when Alessandro asked me to. It wasn't until later, when I found a can of hair mousse in the bathroom, that I finally sprayed the foam over the camera lens, securing a small bit of privacy.
I washed, but then discovered that the modified habit he had gotten me was nothing but a costume… an absolute disrespect I refused to wear.
I walked around for two days in a bathrobe, hoping he would visit. But when he didn't, I finally put the short dress on, though I refused to wear the stockings. And since yesterday, I had been looking like a doll in a sacrilegious costume, waiting for her master to return and tell her next move.
"Ugh! Mother Agnes would choke if she saw me like this," I groaned.
Glancing around the room, I noticed a television. Couldn't I at least watch the news? The boredom was killing me.
I got off the bed, glanced at the camera once more before heading to the door and banging my fist against it.
"Anybody there?" I yelled, pressing my ear to the wood. "Hello?"
I kept hitting the door, and just as I was about to give up, it swung open.
A man I didn't recognize stood there, clearly one of Alessandro's men. "Do you need something, Miss?" he asked cautiously.
"Where's your boss?" I demanded calmly. "I need to talk to him, or at least Matteo. I need to get out of this room."
"You're not allowed to leave this…" he started, but I cut him off.
"Why?" I snapped.
"If there's nothing else, I suggest you go back," he said, trying to close the door. But I wasn't letting him. I held it in place, standing my ground.
"Back away from the door, Miss!" his voice rose, frustration breaking through. He was trying not to put hands on me, but I wasn't backing down.
"What's this commotion about?" a familiar voice said, and I finally let go when Matteo appeared.
"Ah, finally," I sighed, straightening as I stared at him. "I need some air," I said, hands on my hips.
Matteo's face hardened. The faint scar running from over his nose to the right side of his cheek made him look even scarier, but I'd seen worse.
"You'll have to do better than that to scare me," I said, keeping my expression blank.
"Get back inside," he ordered, but I took a bold step further out of the room.
"Get me out of here, or just kill me," I said without blinking. "I'm done being locked up."
Before he could respond, his phone rang. He shot me a look before answering.
"Yes, Boss?" he said, and I guessed Alessandro was on the other end.
Glancing back at the camera inside my room, I realized he had been around all this time, watching me.
"Understood," Matteo said as he hung up. "Fine. Since you want out, the boss has asked me to bring you to him."
My heart jumped but I kept a straight face. Finally, I would see him again. I looked down at the dress I was wearing and wondered what he would say… or do.
I quietly followed Matteo down a corridor I hadn't been led through before. The walls were lined with dark paintings, each more unsettling than the last. I realized Alessandro had a thing for psychological intimidation. The air was thick with it, almost suffocating.
We arrived at a massive door. Matteo knocked twice before pushing it open.
"Go ahead," he said.
I peeked inside. The room was a living area with couches and other furniture. I paused, letting my eyes sweep the space. The red painting on the wall immediately caught my attention. It was a lone figure overlooking a violent, blood-red sea.
Avoiding the mirror, I focused on a dark abstract painting on a shelf. I noticed the wide screen displaying a grid of flickering black-and-white feeds, a digital mosaic of every corner of the estate. My stomach dropped.
I froze when I saw my room on the screen. My private bathroom, my sanctum, every moment I thought I had alone… all of it had been watched.
"Oh shit!" I cursed.
The familiar heavy presence was behind me. I turned, and there he was, emerging from the shadows of an inner room.
His hair was damp, the top buttons of his shirt undone. Dark pants, a dark shirt, a cross hanging low on his chest.
Ironic for someone who was called devil as a nickname.
I stared. I couldn't help it. He looked impossibly perfect. Mother Agnes would have called him a walking temptation. But again, he was Il Diavolo, and I hated that I noticed how beautiful he was.
He walked toward me slowly, each step measured. I backed up, hands pressing against the desk, aware of the monitor behind me.
My eyes drank him in: grey eyes, sharp features, faint stubble, the hard chest visible through the shirt. The air between us seemed to thicken with every inch he closed.
"You look good," he said, eyes raking over me and that's when I remembered what I was wearing. He certainly liked it.
"So you've been watching me all this time, huh?" I tried to change the subject.
He pressed a button on the desk, and the bathroom feed went black. "I did that whenever I saw you going in there," he said casually.
I tilted my head, unconvinced. "I don't believe you."
He smirked, and the room seemed to grow warmer despite the cold walls. "I don't have to explain anything to you," he reminded me.
I swallowed hard, my chest tightening. "Move," I said. "You're in my personal space. Your face is too close."
"Mmm," the sound was like a growl in his chest. "My face is close because I probably expect you to kiss it… or sit on it," he whispered.
Heat rushed to my face when I heard that. I tried to block the thoughts that his words stirred, but I couldn't stop it. Not when he was standing so close.
Suddenly, his phone beeped and he slowly took it out. He glanced at it. I noticed how quickly his expression darkened.
"Your brother keeps testing me," he growled. "Just because I kept you alive doesn't mean I have the same patience with him."
My heart lurched. What had Killian done this time?