already told you I didn't want your fucking gratitude,” he stressed. “This might come as a surprise to you, but I'm not in the habit of rescuing damsels in distress. If it was anyone else begging me to save them, I wouldn't blink an eye before I turned around and left.”
“So why didn’t you?” I asked in a small, uncertain voice.
“Because you were the one woman I couldn't turn my back on,” he said simply, crossing his ankle over his knee. “But for all my risk and interference, you hated me with raw passion.”
“That's not true. I didn't hate you at first,” I assured him. “But you held me against my will and then you forced marriage on me without a single word of explanation. I was very frightened and you kept threatening me.”
“And little good did that do.” He tsked. “The more I threatened, the more stubborn you became. All you thought about was escape. I could see it in your eyes. You just took the risk and called for fucking punishment.”
“And you never hesitated to make me pay,” I retorted, biting the inside of my cheek.
“Actions have consequences, Olivia,” he said, and I gave him a baffled look. “What do you want me to say? I didn't enjoy hurting you, but I needed you to learn. I do regret it, but please acknowledge I’ve never once punished you without warning or cause.”
“And that was the only way?” I asked with irony.
“It was the only way I knew. At the time, I was adamant to protect you. If you showed up at your parent's doorstep, you would have been dead or worse.”
“You say you wanted to protect me, but that couldn't have been the only reason.” I could feel my voice weaken. “What about the time you made me cut my hair? You can’t possibly rationalize your behavior on that occasion.”
“You’re right.” He expelled a long breath. “I can’t. I wasn’t feeling rational at all. I was fucking jealous.”
“Because you saw Mr. de Lucci touch my hair for a split second?” I challenged, rolling my eyes.
“No, tesoro. Him touching your hair was just the last drop.”
I shook my head. “I’ve never given you cause to be jealous of him.”
“Oh, no?” His eyes shimmered with a strange emotion as they gazed into mine. “You smiled at him during every single lesson. Just like you used to smile at me in that restaurant.”
I raised my eyebrows in bafflement. How would he know that?
“There was a camera in the library at the time,” Alessandro clarified. “And before you say anything, it’s long gone and I didn’t put it there because of you. I used to have a safe with many valuables in there.”
Suddenly, I realized why he never came to check on us. He was secretly watching us like a hawk the entire time. “That doesn’t change the fact that you’ve used it to invade my privacy,” I pointed out.
Alessandro’s expression sank and he shrugged. “I’m guilty as charged. The curiosity got the best of me, cara.”
“Did you watch every single lesson?” I demanded.
A rare shade of red stained his bronze skin. “Yes, I did.”
I raised my chin and stood my ground. “Well, then you knew nothing inappropriate ever happened.”
“On the contrary, tesoro.” He sneered and his face settled into a sour grimace. “The bastard was seducing you before my very eyes. He spoke all kind of filth in Italian and you laughed at his lame jokes and asked him a million fucking questions.”
“I didn’t understand half the things he said when he spoke Italian. I was being cordial,” I snapped. “Besides, he was the only person I could talk to.”
Alessandro’s expression turned darker and infinitely more serious. “You could have talked to me.”
I shot him an arrested glance. Such an idea would have never occurred to me in a million years. “You were never around,” I said nonchalantly, and refrained from making any snarky comments.
“But I called you almost every day,” he reminded me, lightly tapping his fingers against the wooden surface of his desk. “And you never showed an ounce of interest or asked me one single question. You were always so cold and distant…”
Memories of the times he’d attempted to engage me into a conversation over the phone flashed before my eyes, and I expelled a shuddering breath. “Alessandro I don’t think you can even begin to imagine—”
“You’re wrong, cara. I can fucking imagine...clear as day.” He sighed, as if composing himself. “It’s immaterial now, but I want you