my cheeks. I didn’t know for how long this continued, but I had cried silently throughout the whole ordeal. I had always taken great pride in my hair. It was one of the rare things I had actually liked about myself. Now it was disappearing before my eyes because I was being punished for something that wasn't my fault. By the time she almost reached shoulder length, my spirit had been completely crushed and I closed my eyes, whimpering softly because I couldn’t take any more of the humiliation.
“That's enough.” Alessandro's deep voice broke the silence, and I thought he was ordering me to stop crying, but then I heard the hairdresser speak.
“But I thought—”
“I said this was enough,” Alessandro interrupted in his usual cold tone.
“Sir, but I have to make it straight,” the hairdresser explained.
“Fine, but keep this length,” he instructed.
The cuts became a lot less volatile and a lot more refined. She was barely trimming any hair, but was indeed only neatening the job she had done. In a few minutes, she moved away and announced she was finished. The fact it was over didn't make me relieved, but quite the opposite. Gazing at my reflection only made me assess the damage, and I burst out crying even harder.
Alessandro swore under his breath and withdrew a hundred dollar bill out of his pocket, handing it to the hairdresser.
“Sir, I'm afraid I don't have any change,” she said.
“No problem. We'll settle the account next time you're here.”
I shuddered, realizing what Alessandro's words meant. He wouldn't allow me to grow my hair back. He would make me keep it like this.
The hairdresser left and Alessandro neared closer. He turned my face toward him, but I refused to look at him as he brushed away the tears from my cheek.
“Stop your crying, tesoro. It's not as bad as it seems. I think you'll grow to like it.” He ran his fingers through the short strands while my tears kept flowing. “Next time a man wants to chance his hand, I want you to remember this moment before you think about how you’re going to handle the situation.”
I didn't give any reaction I had heard him. I just lasted in silence, waiting for him to go away.
“Olivia...” he warned, and I knew he wouldn’t leave until completing the humiliation.
“Yes, Alessandro,” I said in a cold, emotionless voice.
“I expect you to look at me when we’re talking.”
I opened my teary eyes and looked at him through a blur of tears. Something shifted in his demeanor, and he didn't demand I say anything anymore. He wiped away one of my fresh tears.
“We both know I could have made this a lot worse for you, tesoro, but I have chosen to cause minimal damage to prove my point. There was no blood...no pain...no irreversible consequences,” he murmured in a soft tone, as if offering reassurance. “Comfort yourself with the fact I have shown you more mercy than I would have shown to anyone else for the offense of the same gravity.”
He gazed at me expectantly, and I knew he wanted me to acknowledge his words. You can go to hell, Alessandro.
“Yes, Alessandro,” I repeated in that same compliant tone.
But the truth in my eyes was plain to see, and I couldn't hide my feelings from him. As Alessandro kissed my forehead and left the room, I was certain he could discern I would never forgive him for this. But—in all probability—the matters of my resentment and forgiveness meant absolutely nothing to him...
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The Present
“Shh, cara. Open your eyes,” a familiar voice whispered. “It's okay. You're safe. It's just a bad dream.”
Startled by the meaning of that reassurance, I woke up in Alessandro's arms, confused and disturbed by the fact I had dreamed about the incident when he’d made me cut my hair. He stared at me as if lost in thought. I swallowed and bit my lower lip. His fingers brushed against the ends of my hair, and tears burned my eyes at the memory, but I pushed them back.
After the night when Alessandro showered my hair with attention during sex, I never again received another lesson from Mr. de Lucci. He was replaced by a mean old woman who made me dread those tutoring sessions in the evenings. With a cold and strict demeanor, and a tongue sprinkled with poison, Signora Nicolina had been anything but fun to be around. There was no doubt in my mind that Alessandro had made a conscious choice