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Rationalizing everything and carefully planning his next steps, Michele could finally go to bed—with the monitor on, of course.
"Good night, pet," he whispered into the night. "Dream of me."
What he didn't know was that on the other side of the screen, his pet did in fact dream of him. But it wasn't a dream as much as it was a nightmare, his mocking laughter following her everywhere. She was terrified of him and what he meant to her safety and that of her unborn baby. Time and time again, the same nightmare repeated itself, of Michele cutting her stomach open to remove the fetus, killing it in front of her before killing her too.
Michele, in his delusion, thought he could take up with her again and everything would be as before. He couldn't even fathom that Venezia had been so traumatized by what he'd done to her she could no longer feel safe anywhere—not even with her own family.
Everything in her life was pure agony and anxiety, and sometimes a mix of the two. Not even her sleep, which had sometimes shielded her from the problems of the real world, could afford her any peace now.
She was simply petrified and living in continual terror.
And thelastthing she needed was for Michele to decide he wanted her again.
Thatwas simply her nightmare coming to life.
NINE
MICHELE
Michele pushedhis sunglasses up his nose, threading his gloved hand through his hair as he leaned against the concrete wall of the building. A cigarette between his lips, he puffed it repeatedly while letting his eyes roam around the bustling street.
True to her word, Assisi had taken his pet out shopping. He'd been surprised Vlad hadn't accompanied them, but instead he'd sent some of his trusted men to act as their shadows.
Across from him, the two walked slowly as Assisi kept pointing towards different window displays in an attempt to entice his pet to try anything on.
He knew that because he'd had Andreas bump into Assisi a while back, slipping a listening device in her bag so he could listen to everything that went on.
As usual, his pet wore a nondescript baggy dress that almost reached her ankles. She'd added a pair of white converse to complete the look and she'd tied her hair in a ponytail. To Michele's eyes, she looked like she was supposed to—perfect.
All his.
To everyone else's eyes, he knew she came across not only as unfashionable, but dull and pitiful. But that had been the goal all along. He couldn't very well let her shine brightly into the world so anyone could pluck her up. No, the power of her shine was for his eyes only, and he'd be the only man to ever gaze upon her like that—closely, intimately.
Anyone else attempting to do so would be as good as dead.
And just as that thought arose, Michele realized his own fault and how this frustration she instilled in him could have backfired in the worst way possible. She'd driven him so mad, he'd had no other recourse but to push her away. Unwittingly, he'd chased her right into danger—into the open world full of predators who'd take one good look at her innocent eyes and fall to their knees with a desire to posses her.
Michele didn't fool himself for one moment that he was the only one who reacted so strong to her. No, he could bet that any red-blooded male in her proximity could see just how fresh and unspoiled she was, both in her beauty and temperament. She was like an unpolished gem waiting for that one jeweler who could give her the perfect polish and form.
The situation at her school had been a prime example of it with how those boys had dared to think they could go anywhere near her. It had been pure luck that they had been dealt with before they'd made a move on his pet. He didn't for one second believe they weren't capable of forcing themselves on her just for a taste of her sweet honey.
That mental image was enough to get him on edge, his muscles tensing, his hands curling into fists as the desire for death and destruction sang loudly in his blood.
If anyone had dared doanythingto his pet… He would unleash a river of blood the likes of which it had never been seen before.
Begrudgingly, he had to admit he'd been so caught up in everything she awoke in him—the loss of control she caused when he hated that above all else—that he hadn't thought anything through.
A first for him.
He was known for weighing every possibility, every detail—no matter how minuscule. Yet he'd acted like a short-sighted fool and he could have very well paid the price for that.
Luckily, Andreas acted like his conscience, cleaning up his messes before they even arose. He'd diligently taken care of everything, compiling an account of everything his pet had been up to while Michele had been shutting himself from the world—and most importantly, fromher. As such, he was aware of her very step in the last few weeks and the fact that after the debacle at school she'd isolated herself from the world—as she should have done from the first.
No one had been in contact with her—no man.
But that only meant that Michele had been lucky for the first time in his life. From now on, he vowed to himself he would never allow his impulses cloud his judgement again. Until he tired of her—since he didn't think for one second he would never do so—he would hold her so close no one would dare even breathe in her direction.
Yes, he nodded to himself, pleased about his reasoning. Now that he'd seen the error of his ways he was ready to implement new rules that would ensure both his detachment and, paradoxically, his involvement.
