Page 3 of Massimo

Although, my passport still bore the name Nova Mancini, and the hotel room was reserved under the Magna Titano Group, one of my father's shell companies. So, if someone really wanted to figure out whoI was, they wouldn't need to be Einstein. However, my father made sure I was protected while abroad. Not because he cares about me—Silvestro Mancini only cares about himself and his power—but because I'm a valuable asset to him.

I also suspect he's planning something for when I return home. Even though he hadn't said a word before I left, I can read him like a book. I've spent my whole life learning to read my monstrous father; so I may not know the details of his plan, but I know my life will change forever when I return home. For the better of Silvestro Mancini, but not for Nova Mancini. No, for the Mancini Princess—AKA me—it most certainly won't be for the better.

But I guess that doesn't matter now because my father's plans have been derailed.

Because I've jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire and got myself kidnapped.

When my father allowedme to go to Italy, he, of course, sent me with guards. Their job was to protect me, but the kidnapping situation I currently find myself in… Well, that's entirely on me since I had deceived my guards and had been sneaking out.

I've had years of perfecting and presenting myself to the monsters in my world, hiding my thoughts and molding my behavior to be what they expected. To my guards, I was meek and obedient; I haven't given them any trouble in a decade—my father ensured I had learned that lesson well.

But in my father’s absence, I got brave and bold—and slipping past my guards was basically child’s play.

And without the guards,Elena Naldiexplored and enjoyed being someone who wasn't Nova Mancini, the Mancini Princess.

I left my ridiculously expensive, haute couture clothes back in my room. Gone was the perfect hair and make-up, and in its place was a young woman with a messy bun, no make-up, and vintage clothes from a little shop in the area.

And that's when I mether.

Gemma Ricci. Beautiful and full of fun.

She was vacationing before she settled down to start her PhD in International Studies, or so I stupidly believed, like a gullible idiot.

Over the past week, whenever I slipped away from my guards, I spent time with Gemma. I had the best time—never had I been so carefree and unrestricted. And unguarded, in every sense. Not just without my guards physically, but I could finally drop the walls I've lived my entire life hiding behind. I could finally be the real me, without constantly hiding my thoughts or making sure my words and actions were those of the meek and mild princess. And let me tell you, I loved that version of me.

She laughed and smiled.

She spoke freely and didn't hide the fire and fight that smoldered deep within her.

She wasn't scared and jumpy. She wasn't constantly lowering her lashes and bowing her head.

And she certainly wasn't scared of her shadow or the monster that lurked around the corner.

She was out from under her vile father's thumb, his cunning eyes, and his constant scheming and plotting.

And what an idiotshewas.

That girl and that reality didn't exist. It was nice to play pretend for a bit, though.

Now, I have to face my reality—a reality that will likely be as hellish as my past twenty years, if not worse.

Last night, Gemma convinced me to go to a club, and we had the best time dancing and laughing. But the last thing my fuzzy brain could recall was when I told Gemma I didn't feel well.

She had put her arm around me. Then there were some black spots, and the next memory was of Gemma helping me into an SUV. Then I woke up feeling an airplane's distinct humming and vibrations.

I'd been duped and kidnapped, being flown to god knows where.

And I know better. I know that everyone uses everyone else to gain what they want. How many times did I need to be taught that lesson? Nice girls don't finish first. Hell, in my world, nice girls often don't survive.

So why did I think, even for a second, that Gemma Ricci was friend and was genuinely interested in Elena Naldi, a nobody? Of course, she'd have an angle, a goal, when it came to me.

Only stupid, gullible idiots would think otherwise. Only weak fools would dare to hope otherwise.

I've been staring out the window since I opened my eyes and saw Gemma sitting across from me. The weight of her unasked questions press on me as we sit there in silence, but she'll break her silence first.

Now that I'm back amongst the monsters of my world, all the brutal lessons I've learned rush back to me. My silence isn't out of stubborn principle—this is one of the lessons I learned a long time ago.

You remain silent unless spoken to.

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