Page 33 of Massimo

Massimo

IpaceNova'sbedroom.She's been in the bathroom a long time. If I couldn't hear her moving around in there, I wouldn't be able to stop myself from breaking down the door to make sure she was okay.

I know I did damage. Huge damage. Hell, even if I was Mr. Nice Guy right from the start, I was still her father's enemy. I still kidnapped her. I earned her hate.

But I'd kidnap her again in a heartbeat. And if she tries to run, I know I'd chase her and bring her back. It's not safe for her out there with Mancini hunting for her.

Yeah…okay, Massimo.

Shut the fuck up, brain.

The lock on the bathroom door sounds, and the door slowly opens. Nova's beautiful face is guarded and wary, but it doesn't look like she'd been crying more.

Her tears almost killed me. I don't know what I'd need to do, or how long it would take to atone for my sins, but I'd do it.

"Come, princess."

Even though I want to, I don't hold out my hand for her take because I know that if she took it right now, it would be because she was trying to appease the monster in front of her.

Iama monster—but I'd help her see I'mhermonster. And I'll let my monstrous beast emerge and rule if I need to protect her from any others.

Have I fallen head-first down the rabbit hole? Yes.

Have I fallen hard, fast, and so far I'll never get out? Also, yes.

Do I care? Not a single fuck.

She still looks a bit unsteady on her feet, and I shadow her as she walks back to the bed. She perches on the side of it.

"Crawl in." I lift the tray and flick the legs out with my fingers. Once she's settled with her back against the headboard, I set it over her thighs and lift the warming lids.

While Nova slept, I researched how to safely reintroduce food without overwhelming her digestive system and to avoid a potentially serious condition called re-feeding syndrome. I was only aware this existed because Sophie had talked about it once regarding a young girl who had escaped an abusive home. I did a rapid deep-dive into the subject, and got Jerome to prepare Nova a variety of food options because I'm not sure of her preference.

Nova stares at the tray that has easily digestible carbohydrates—oatmeal, crackers, and white bread—with protein options of sliced chicken, turkey, and Greek yogurt. There's chicken broth and vegetable broth, steamed vegetables with olive oil drizzled on top, raw veggies with a dip, slices of avocado, nuts, bananas, and homemade applesauce.

"It's a lot," I tell her, "but you're not supposed to eat it all. Just choose what you'd like from each of the carbs, proteins, vegetables, and fruit options. But you should try to have some of each category. Just not too much of one thing right off the bat."

I clamp my mouth shut to stop my verbal diarrhea, and she blinks at the tray. Then she blinks again rapidly like she's trying to force back tears.

The dread I've been feeling—knowing that she's suffered horribly at the hands of her father—makes me feel ill.

I sit on the bed beside her and push her tangled hair behind her ear. I'll have to get Jerome to get some spray-in detangler so I can brush those out without hurting her.

I cup her chin and turn her face to me. Disbelief, distrust, and pain swirl in her beautiful brown eyes. "You never…neverhave to be told to eat again, princess. You eat what you want, when you want."

"You just told me I couldn't eat too much of one thing."

I open my mouth, then shut it. Then I huff a laugh, and her lips quirk.

I smooth back her hair again. The contentment and happiness I feel touching her, of taking care of her… It's fucking addicting.

And again, do I care? Not a single flying fuck.

"Eat, princess."

Her eyes shutter, and I press my lips together. I want her to eat because she's choosing to, not because the monster gave her permission.

Her hand trembles as she selects the oatmeal, and I pass her a spoon. She stares at the food but doesn't move to eat.

---