the two of us,” he revealed and snickered as I gaped at him in confusion. “Alessandro and Olivia Damiani, if you insist.”
“Oh,” I retorted, feeling stupid. “Okay, then.”
He glanced at the Rolex around his wrist and planted a quick kiss on the bridge of my nose. “I really have to go, cara. Make sure you're ready by seven.”
Before I could say anything or ask more questions about where we were going, his phone rang again and he practically stormed out of the room, instructing the caller that he would talk to them later.
The rest of my morning went by in a routine that consisted of throwing up, cleaning up and eating breakfast. I hated to admit it, but—no matter how threatened I felt by Alessandro—I got used to his presence at the breakfast table. And it was kind of quiet without him. I didn't think there was anything alarming about my thoughts. I was a creature of habit. In a few days, once I got used to eating alone again, his presence would be the last thing I desired.
After breakfast, I retreated to the library. On my way there, I crossed paths with Broderick and forced myself to look straight ahead as we greeted each other curtly. A pang of guilt closed around my heart because I could tell he was hurt by my cold treatment, but I had to keep my distance from him. Alessandro was back to being the merciless boss. He would think nothing of dealing with Broderick in the way he dealt with all of his enemies. If something got on Alessandro's path, it got annihilated and wiped away as though it had never existed.
When I reached my desk in the library, I picked out a book from a stacked pile and focused on memorizing new Italian vocabulary. Since I hated shopping, spending time in the library was all I ever did. For the most part, I avoided thinking about it because I'd always be confronted with the reality of my sad, meaningless existence.
It had been five years, but I still thought about the busy life I had left behind. I missed working. I missed going to school and studying. I missed taking care of my little sister. I missed waking up in the morning and feeling useful. The worst part was the definite loss of hope it would ever change. But I had to hold on and keep believing because—after years of solitude—finally there was a purpose to my life, and that was the only thing I had to focus on at the moment.
When it was time to get dressed for the dinner, I opted for a black turtleneck dress with long sleeves. The dress reached almost to my knees and I accentuated it with a silver belt around my waist. I wore my hair loose and applied a bit of make-up, but not too much because I preferred the natural look. Slipping into a pair of black high heels, I shuffled over to the mirror and stared at my reflection.
I hated wearing anything with a turtleneck, but it was the only piece of clothing I felt comfortable in when I left the house. Even though it was an exaggeration on my part, and long sleeves would have done the trick; it was one of the rare comforting things even Alessandro didn't take away from me.
This didn't mean I was a prude. On the contrary, I enjoyed wearing sensual clothing that didn't border on good taste. The dress I wore right now was too demure and made me look mature beyond my age, but I didn't have a choice. Revealing my back in public was out of the question. It had been years since I dared to wear a shirt or a dress with straps. I had tried it once and all the stares had a very bad effect on my confidence. I preferred the itchy, suffocating feeling around my neck to those shocked, curious glances any day.
There was a knock on the door, and Alessandro entered my room. He smelled divine and wore a grey charcoal suit that made him look gorgeous. Our eyes met, and he slowly took in my appearance. “You look radiant as always, cara, but why so modest?” he asked with a charming smile. “You should rejoice in your beauty, not hide it.”
The old Alessandro would have known the reason I preferred this style of clothing in the past few years. This new Alessandro with impaired memory couldn't seem to