you ever seen me break it?”
“No. No I haven’t,” I said quietly. “But it would be foolish of me to trust my captor.”
He arched his eyebrows. “Captor? I thought I was your savior.”
“I thought so too,” I uncovered in a firm tone. “But then you proved me wrong.”
He gasped an incredulous smile, and leaned back into his chair. “And how did I do that, Olivia? I don’t think I have to remind you of what some, if not most men would do if they found themselves in my position. You’re a lot more vulnerable and helpless than you think, but I have yet to take advantage of that fact. So far, I have treated you like a gentleman. Don’t make me regret it.”
I parted my lips to argue, but his face settled into a stern expression filled with warning, and I knew the discussion was over. I had no idea what awaited me in the future, but one thing was certain; Alessandro Damiani had no intention to set me free from this lavish prison he had captured me in.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The Past (5 years prior)
Days turned into weeks, and I was still trapped in the solitude of that room in Alessandro Damiani’s mansion. The only time I was allowed to leave was when Alessandro requested me to join him for dinner in the evenings. Whenever he was near, I couldn't deny the electric vibrations that danced in the air and made goosebumps erupt on my skin. But I wasn't naive to think that this man could ever be my prince charming. The opportunity to grace his presence wasn't worthy enough to give up on my dreams and my own life. I wanted freedom. I wanted independence. I wanted to create a safe haven for me and my little sister.
Even though he remained adamant he wouldn't let me go, that didn't stop me from pleading with him. Every evening when he conversed in small talk, I'd change the subject to convince him to let me go back to the life I left behind, but he always refused and warned me to stop trying. Lately, he became so irritated by my repeated requests that he'd send me right back to the solitude of my room. And I could sense his mood darkened more and more. At the same time, my appreciation toward him transformed into bitter resentment as I realized he had rescued me from one bad situation only to imprison me in another.
I had no idea what Alessandro Damiani intended to do with me or why he kept me against my will in his house. His reasons were veiled in mystery until—one evening—I was escorted out of my room to join him for dinner only to find him reading my journal, surrounded by all those sketches I had made of him whenever he'd visit the restaurant. Every single time I had seen him was described in there; together with every emotion he had made me feel. The rose he had given me was in there as well, hiding between the pages that held the story of a gorgeous man who'd swept me off my feet the second I met his dark gaze. The thought that Alessandro Damiani had access to my most intimate thoughts was mortifying, and I blushed from head to toe as I gawked at him.
“Where did you get this?” I queried in a voice barely audible.
“Courtesy of your parents,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone.
“Did you tell them where I was?” I asked hopefully.
“I don't believe they have bothered to ask, tesoro.”
Pain stabbed at my heart. They didn't care. They were happy to be rid of me. Alessandro turned another page of my diary, and the sound got my attention. I watched in total humiliation as he snickered and shook his head at something he'd read. It was the page with the rose. All the blood drained from my face, and my stomach dropped. He did this on purpose, allowing me to witness his ridiculing of my words. My fists clenched by my sides and the powerful emotion stirring inside me was abundantly clear. I despised him at that moment.
“Give it back.” I reached for my journal, and he snatched it away, uttering a tsk.
“Didn't anyone teach you manners, Olivia? You forgot to say please,” he taunted and returned to reading.
Was he serious?
“I'm not saying please when you’re invading my privacy.” I reached for it again and demanded, “Give it back to me!”
He closed the notebook and lifted his