Page 4 of Massimo

It's like my father is beside me, hissing in my ear, and I suppress a shudder.

I learned that lesson quickly, just like all the others. Because life as what my father wanted me to be—a demure, passive princess who is pretty to look at, easy to control, and bends to the will of her master—was easier and much less painful.

The pain he inflicted was rarely physical because causing physical pain usually left a mark of some kind. Unblemished beauty is highly prized in my father's eyes. He told me more than once that I'm his golden ticket to get what he wants—the perfect Mancini Princess and her precious virginity would serve him well in making an alliancefit for a king.

I shudder.

"Are you cold?"

I don't answer Gemma and blink back tears. Why does she care?

And in answer to her question, no, I'm not cold. I've experienced cold—being forced to stay in the cell in our basement, wearing only a light shirt and shorts, sometimes being locked down there for days—that's a cold that seeps into the bones.

"Nova…" When I don't answer or turn to her, she huffs. "Okay, dammit, look at me."

I've had years of conditioning—when I'm told to do something, I do it without hesitation. I need to obey or face the consequences. Being at the mercy of my father, those consequences were things like being lockedin that cold cell. Or going without food and not daring to sneak even a cracker until I was told I could eat. Or having to be under the watchful eye of Mauro Torrisi, my father's consigliere.

Another shudder runs through me.

I turn from the window and look at Gemma. But I don't look at her like Elena Naldi had, with my chin lifted and meeting her eyes. I look at her like who I've been trained to be—the Mancini Princess—with a lowered chin and downcast gaze.

Gemma has morphed from me stupidly believing I had found my first true friend to another monster in my world.

I need to keep my guard up and not anger her. At least with my father, Mauro, my brothers, and the guards, I knew how to act to not anger or give them reason to punish me. But I'm in unchartered territory now, and I need to quickly learn how to act to protect myself.

Gemma frowns at me. She's beautiful—tall and willowy, with dark hair and Mediterranean skin coloring.

She's also deceitful and conniving. And a superb actress, because I didn't even consider that she was playing me.

She leans toward me, studying me like I'm a freak bug she's just discovered under a rock. "Why aren't you fighting, Nova?"

I blink. And blink again.

To force back my sudden tears, but more importantly, to try to silence my mother's screams in my head.

Then my father is there, hissing in my ear as he forced me to watch his guards beat my mother and then drag her out by her hair. "Don't fight the monsters, princess. Because the monsters always win."

That was my father's warning when I was ten years old.

That was the last time I saw my mother because, after that, I was forced to listen as the guards continued to beat her in the next room. Her beating was her punishment for daring to try to run away with me. My lesson was to listen to her beating until my father was satisfied I had learned it.

The next day, I was told my mother had died in a car accident caused by the Czech mafia targeting her to strike at my father.Lies. My mother didn't make it out of that hellish house breathing.

"Nova?"

I blink again.

"Shit, you're as pale as a goddamn ghost." Gemma unbuckles her belt.

"Why do you care?" I blurt in a hoarse voice.

Her hands still, and I close my eyes.

Watch yourself.

"Don't fight the monsters, princess. Because the monsters always win."

I open my eyes, staring down at my clasped hands in my lap, shutting down the ridiculous hurt I'm feeling from Gemma's betrayal. I'm nothing but a pawn for others to use to get what they want. And I shut down theinsaneurge to lash out at her and fight back.

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