in a deep breath, preparing myself for his invasion.
“Shh, Olivia. Non ti farò del male,” he breathed. “Don't be afraid. I will not hurt you, piccola.”
Those were the same words he had uttered on our wedding night, but—unlike then when he had broken his promise—this time, he entered my body slowly and gave me time to adjust to his overwhelming presence. The only other time he had been close to being this gentle was when he'd made me play that word game in the library. Warning signs clouded my mind because I was reminded of the harsh punishment he had extorted the following day, but Alessandro's lips distracted me from giving into doubt and fear. His skillful fingers set my body on fire and he moved inside me slowly, keeping up the same gentle rhythm and never demanding more; never increasing the pressure. That night, Alessandro treated me with such delicacy as though I was made of glass. He made me feel loved. He made me feel so precious that it brought tears to my eyes—tears he kissed away as they fell while I shuddered in his arms, devoured by the ecstasy ignited by his gentle touch.
When it was over and we were both spent, he held me in his embrace, repeatedly caressing the entire length of my back. While we lay in each other's arms in silence, he whispered sweet Italian nothings in my ears and I almost fell asleep. At some point, I was vaguely aware of the moment he got out of bed and disappeared into the bathroom.
Suddenly, as I listened to the sounds of the running shower, reality trickled back in, together with the sense of approaching panic. Covering myself with the sheet that lay beneath me, I sat up quickly and hugged my knees. Alessandro caught me in a hotel room while I was about to give myself to another man so he would help me flee from him. Rocking back and forth, I dreaded the moment he would return to the room. The noise from the shower subsided into silence. I held my breath, focusing on the wild beating of my heart.
After a few moments, a very much naked Alessandro emerged from the bathroom. He dried off with a large towel that he simply threw on the floor when he was done. Smiling at me, he reached for his clothes and put on his boxers and pants. I had no idea why he pretended everything was okay, but I couldn't keep up the charade. I had to say something or I would go insane. “Alessandro, I want to explain,” I stammered.
He approached the bed and brushed his fingers along my hair. There wasn’t a trace of anger in his gaze. “Did I ask?” he demanded in a voice as soft as a breeze.
I shook my head. “No.”
He smiled lightly. “Then you have nothing to explain.”
This didn't feel right. This didn't feel right at all. Why would he be so calm? Why would he be so gentle and so kind when I had committed the worst type of betrayal? I expelled a loud sigh, trying to get some of the tension out of my system.
“Tired?” Alessandro asked gently, and offered a small smile.
“A little bit.” My voice was barely audible.
“Do you want to stay the night or do you want to go home?”
“I want to go home,” I said what I thought he wanted to hear.
“Okay, principessa.” He kissed my forehead and jumped up. “Just give me a few minutes.”
I nodded, wondering if he would really let me off the hook for doing something like this and knowing that he couldn't. Nevertheless, he seemed so acceptant of the situation when he had every excuse to react with rage. I couldn't understand why, and my own mind drove me insane. Then, he collected his gun from the drawer. I stared at the weapon with widened eyes. Did I misinterpret his behavior and he meant to shoot me in cold blood?
He smiled like he knew what was going through my head. “Safety measures, tesoro. I need to be able to protect you,” he explained, as he put the gun in the waistband of his pants. “One can never be too cautious.”
Suddenly, Alessandro's phone rang, disrupting my thoughts. He didn't pick it up immediately. Instead, he finished fastening the belt around his pants. Then, he rolled his eyes in annoyance and answered the call. He uttered a few terse sentences in Italian, then smiled at me, handing me