Hatred to love

Chapter 21

Mature Content Ahead:

The clothing that covered me was soon strewn on the granite floor. Bare, cold air flowed throughout the room. A rooming spotless and yet seemingly unused. It was small, but the enormous red and black mattress took up wall to wall, leaving space for a few cabinets and dressers.

"Tesoro, what shall it be today? It appears that though we talked over phone these past few years, you failed to mention your position in power."

Pietro circled me as I hung my head and stood with my hands clasped behind me.

"It also seems, that you have been sought out. Unless the American's pursuing you is meant to warn of something else. Am I right in saying you have been pursued?" He tipped my chin upward so I was forced to look directly at him and not the floor. Even though the speckles along the granite looked oh so interesting at the present.

The still semi-swollen flesh of my lips parted without sound. Should I answer? He is right, but what will that lead to? There's only one of me. One of me. Taking a deep breathe, I stared into his swirling chestnut orbs, welcoming the heat and the chill. Allowing the mystery and obviousness to consume me. "Yes, the American's are in pursuit of my hand in marriage. They have been since our parents death. And from my knowledge, they killed them after discovering their plan to wed us."

I was scared beyond my expertise. Beyond my age. Beyond my wildest dreams. Scared did not define the emotions coursing through me at that instance. Scared barely skimmed the surface. It was a flood. One that brought a tsunami of anguish, a down pour of distress, and a waterfall of dread. People died because I wouldn't wed one of the most qualified bachelors. Tall, rich, strong, and handsome. But not my type. He wasn't and will never be the man to hold my heart no matter how hard he tried.

Horrification of what the future might hold made the calmness of my exterior shatter. The wall I built up to hide my most prominent emotion, tumbled. I was a woman who wore her heart on her sleeve, but I hid the consuming darkness with the little flame of a match. Faces flashed through my mind, blocking my vision. They were so life-like, appeared to almost be touchable, and yet I knew they weren't. Eyes squeezed shut, I tried to unsee them, to stare only at the dark side of my eyelids. But, they followed me. In less then 24hours, my life has turned for the worse. And the truth hit me like a train wreck.

"Victoria! Goddammit woman! Per una volta nella tua bella vita Respira!" I was thrown back to reality by Pietro's authoritative, domineering, bass tongue. An accent of many dialects. A tone of several meanings.(For once in your beautiful life, breathe)

The large, calloused hands of the powerful man before me shook me senseless. Well, shook sense into me. Bringing me back to earth. Back to him. A salty liquid reached my chapped lips, dripping through the cracks. What felt like a thousand more drops of the same salty liquid streamed down me cheeks, breaking past the dam. Both calloused thumbs rubbed gently along the tender skin, wiping away the tears.

"Don't cry. Please. I know it's tough. I know I didn't believe you, but I do now. You and I both know that nothing will happen to you while I am alive. Nothing," Pietro chestnut orbs took in my frightened state. His words lingering above our heads, holding a promise. One either kept or broken. "Our parents discussed our marriage. They agreed on it. Though we were both adults, the thought to unify our family's through our marriage. Even if we hated each other."

A dry, saddened giggle escaped me.

"Silly, I know. Who couldn't love this hunky piece of meat? Don't answer that," Pietro picked me up bridle style and laid me on the bed. His irises swirling to their chocolate hue. "That's besides the point. No matter who's parents are at fault. No matter who killed who or who betrayed who."