“Is there more?” he asked with staggering caution.
I couldn't speak nor look at him, so I just nodded my head and remained hidden under his chest.
“Dio mio…What do I say to you, cara?” He expelled a sharp breath as if his chest was filled with pressure and pain. “How will I ever be able to look at myself in the mirror again?”
I found his comment to be ironic. He was a criminal and a murderer. Surely, he had committed crimes that were many times worse than what he had done to me. Even when he extorted those harsh punishments, he always stressed I should show gratitude because he was merciful. Now, he behaved as if those acts of mercy tortured his nonexistent conscience. He might have lost his memory, but he was still the same person within. He was still the same cold, cruel man who hurt me. To believe anything less would be dangerous and foolish.
Alessandro's hands closed around my shoulders, and he gently eased me away from him. Though I kept my eyes closed, I could tell he stared at my tear-stained face. “If I’m the one who caused you this pain”—he breathed—“I will be the one who takes it away.”
You can't, Alessandro. It's too late…There is no more pain to take away. I am empty. I am dead.
But Alessandro didn't pay any heed to the protests in the depths of my mind. Ever so slowly, he turned me on my belly and lifted my shirt again. I tensed; too drained to do anything else. He stopped and brought his lips to my ear. “Please, let me do this, cara,” he whispered in slight despair. “Let me make it better. It's the only way I know how.”
Unwilling and unable to care, I stilled and closed my eyes once again, giving him the opportunity to do whatever he wanted. The shirt was lifted to my shoulders and Alessandro did the most incredible thing. His lips touched each and every single inch of my scars as he kept whispering apologies.
“I’m so sorry, Olivia. You deserved better than this. Please, forgive me,” he repeated over and over again until his voice turned hoarse and spent. “Now I know why you hate me,” he whispered at last.
I wanted to deny it, but couldn't. An avalanche of old painful memories wouldn’t let me reassure him even though I was immensely touched by his gesture. His murmured apologies eventually drifted into silence, but he kept caressing my back and laying soft kisses on my scars deep into the night. I fought to stay awake, but couldn't take it any longer.
As I drifted to sleep, my mind consequently wandered back to the night when the last bit of feeling I ever had for Alessandro died away and morphed into bitter hatred; when I had found out just how far he was willing to go to keep me by his side for the rest of my life...
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
The Past (3 years prior)
It was one of those nights I’d always dreaded for days ahead. Alessandro organized a reception for his 'associates' at our house, and I was forced to attend the event as his wife. Desperate to avoid meeting all those people that terrified the hell out of me, I had spent the entire day in bed, feigning illness. But—despite my mortified protests—Alessandro insisted on getting a doctor who confirmed there was nothing wrong with me, and I could take on the role of a hostess without any problems. I expected him to get angry with me, but he was so amused by my failed trick that he just said I was full of surprises and never ceased to be fun to be around. Bastard.
I sat in front of the vanity, and applied the last touches of make-up when Alessandro entered my room. He looked as immaculate and gorgeous as ever, wearing a dark grey suit and a day old beard that added a certain layer of maturity to him. I tensed as he stalked behind me and rested his hands on my shoulders. Keeping my eyes glued on the mirror, I watched my skin burn as his brown fingers slowly slid down my collarbones and all the way to my cleavage.
Then, he removed the strands of loose hair from my neck and leaned closer, laying a kiss behind my ear. “You look absolutely stunning in that dress.”