Page 61 of Massimo
I stare at the food, silently willing him to order me to eat.
But the command doesn't come. He waits, seemingly made of infinite patience, as I battle the mental war in my head.
Finally, I manage to make my hand move. It trembles, but I dish myself up my plate. My hand shakes even harder as I lift the first forkful, but the food goes into my mouth. After chewing and swallowing, I choke back a small cry of relief and gratitude, feeling like I've overcome a huge hurdle.
All because of this man.
He may be a monster, but… Is he showing me that he's something else, too?
Massimo hums in approval and brushes my hair back from my face. "I do love to feed you, but to see you beat your father's training and do it yourself is so fucking rewarding, princess." He leans over and kisses my temple.
More confusion floods my system, and I blink against the sudden urge to cry.
But he's right; it is so fucking rewarding to beat my father's lessons and conditioning. So I focus on that, not on Massimo's ulterior motives for helping me.
As we eat—me more slowly than would be considered normal—I need to take my mind off what I'm doing to continue eating, so I ask him questions to keep my mind occupied.
"Whereare all your people?" Besides Massimo and Gabe, I've only seen Jerome and the odd guard in the house. I know a house of this size would take lots of staff. Plus, Massimo is the Don; there's always people around wanting or needing to talk to the leader of their empire.
"The beast likes to keep the beauty all for himself."
My head twists to look at him. The corners of his mouth are curled in a smile.
"What did my father do to you?"
His smile fades, and his look turns dark. He sets his fork down, and my appetite vanishes.
He's going to show you what he thinks of all you Mancinis.
He rises, and I try not to flinch—he sees it because this man misses nothing. His big hands clench into fists, and my heart stutters in alarm.
He walks away from me and goes to the beverage counter in the corner of his office. When he turns, he has a tumbler with ice and clear liquid, and a glass with a small bit of red wine in it.
He sits down, handing me the wine. "Gemma said you like red wine, but don't drink too much right now, princess."
I glance at the glass—there's really only a large swallow in it, and I take a tiny sip. "Do I need to prepare myself for the answer to my question?"
He grunts softly and plays with his glass, staring into the liquid. "Nearly a year ago, Sophie was taken. Your father's name popped up when my brother Creed tried to figure everything out." He looks at me. "It looked like your father wasn't connected, but recent discoveries show that conclusion was likely wrong.
"We also discovered your father was conspiring with Simon Novak, the leader of the Czech mafia and two of my allies here in San Francisco, plotting to take down both the Chamber and the Santoro family."
I bite my lip as I consider what he's telling me, and the fact that he's telling me anything at all. From my research into the US criminal factions, I know what the Chamber is.
"My father has hated your father for years because of something Tommaso did to make him look like a fool," I admit. "What was my father's end goal, though, here in California?"
Massimo studies me. "Do you know your family's main revenue source?"
I glance away. "I have my suspicions."
"Human trafficking and selling humans like cattle," he says bluntly. He turns my face back to his and runs his thumb over my cheekbone. "He also admitted to trying to set up a local site here in California for an international ring where people are forced to kill each other for entertainment purposes and that involves sex slavery."
My stomach rolls and I heave.
Then I'm wrapped in strong arms and held against Massimo's chest as I heave again, but somehow the food I've just eaten stays down. Massimo rubs my back while he cradles me in his arms, waiting until my nausea has fully passed.
My confusion grows. How can he take care of someone like me? My father is responsible for heinous things, including horrible things directly against the Santoros. My father is even worse than I imagined.
"No wonder you hate the Mancinis."
