Page 20 of Massimo

A man has never touched me.

In all honesty,Ihaven't even touched myself like that. I've never had the urge to pleasure myself because I knew I was being watched, even in my bedroom. My father wasincessantabout my virginity remaining intact. I was humiliated daily by Mauro going through my room to ensure I had no 'toys.'

Nothing to stretch out your tight little pussy, princess. That pleasure is all for your lucky husband.

An intense shudder goes through me at the memory of Mauro's offensive and vulgar words and remembering the lust he looked at me with. I suspect he was the one who watched me in my room to make sure I didn't do anything to 'stretch out my pussy.'

And I responded for the first time to Massimo—my captor, a monster capable of gruesome, lethal deeds.

He wants to use me to strike at my father.

He wants to prove to himself that I'm someone who is as vile and appalling as Silvestro Mancini

I want to show Massimo who I truly am. I don't want to be the compliant, weak version of myself, but hard-learned lessons warn me to stay the course, to keep being the demure, docile princess.

Don't fight,my mother whispers from the grave.

Tears bead on my lashes and fall, trapped between my thighs and chest. I huddle closer to my knees for warmth, but also seeking a tender touch that's been absent since her death.

"I miss you," I whisper.

My stomach clenches, and I try to calculate how long it has been since I ate, considering the time difference between here and Italy. It's probably close to thirty hours, and what I last ate wasn't very much.

Do I dare try to salvage something of the splattered meal? I could at least eat the bruised apple.

You don't eat until I say you can eat, my father's voice hisses.

No one here has told me I could eat. This is just like the test with my father when Mauro brought me a tray while in a similar room. I failed that test and was punished for days.

My body is craving the food, but my tormented mind is rallying hard to warn me.

Don't do it. Don't eat the food until you are told you can. You've learned this lesson already. Massimo is a monster, just like your father. It's a test.

Years of conditioning, learning horrible lessons, and psychological abuse wins.

I don't touch the food.

Chapter 11

Nova

Sleepisnearlyimpossible,even though I'm exhausted. Each time I start to drift off, I jolt awake, terrified the monster is about to grab me.

The cold doesn't help, either.

At least the light is on. The light switch for the room is on the outside, and thankfully, my captors haven't turned it off. Just in case they do, I left the light on in the other room with the toilet. Having it bright doesn't affect my sleep, because after my father taught me a lesson by locking me in a pitch-black room, I need some light to sleep.

There's no window in this room, so the only reference to how much time has passed or if it's day or night is based on the food. But time doesn't matter; I'll likely die in this room.

You'd think the thought would make me fight, but no, I'm broken and weak. Besides, there are worse ways to go—I know that firsthand; I've seen it. I could go the same way as my mother.

I shudder and push unsteadily to my feet to walk to the room with the toilet. Even though I've hardly drank anything, I still need to pee. I've been putting it off as long as I can, worrying that my captor would watch me in there. But need has surpassed my horrified vanity. Regardless, I go as fast as possible and stare at the dark color of my urine when I flush. I'm already getting dehydrated, but at least that means I won't have to pee very often. It would be nice to wash my hands, though.

Once my romper is back in place, I return to the other room. Jerome is there and puts a food tray on the floor. This looks like lunchtime food:a salad with juicy berries, slices of chicken, and crumbled cheese, along with what looks like a protein drink and another piece of cake.

Jerome had cleaned up the food splattered from the tray Massimo had kicked last night when he brought in my breakfast. He's silent as he picks up the untouched breakfast tray before he turns to me, looking like he'll say something.

Tell me to eat. Please.

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