"What did you do?" I'm almost afraid to ask, especially seeing the way his jaw is locked in place, the veins on his hands prominent as he grips the wheel.
"I paid him what he felt he lost with her," he says cryptically, and I frown.
"I don't understand."
"He was going to take her child away and then sell her to the highest bidder — the only use he still had for her. So I found a way to make him happy."
I don't think he's giving me the whole picture, and when he doesn't volunteer more details, I let the subject drop. I think it's the first time I'm seeing Enzo react like this... with so much emotion radiating off him.
We drive a while longer before finally reaching the destination.
Sacre Coeur is imposing, surrounded by sturdy walls. It looks more like a prison than a convent. I'm almost tempted to ask if we're at the right destination, but Enzo doesn't seem he'd be receptive to such a joke.
He takes my hand and leads me towards the entrance. We pass through security first, and then we're met by a sister who shows us to one of the dorms.
The entire building seems a little dilapidated from the outside, and this is further confirmed as we enter, going up the stairs towards a little room at the back of the first floor.
Enzo knocks softly, and a beautiful woman holding a baby in her arms opens the door. Her eyes — eyes identical to Enzo's — widen before she goes for a hug, mindful of the infant sleeping in her embrace.
"Enzo!" She exclaims, and a look of pure happiness crosses her face. "I missed you."
"Lina, and how is my favorite niece?" His voice completely changes as he addresses his sister, and I suddenly feel like an intruder in this perfect family scene.
"Finally sleeping. Come," she motions for us to come inside. The room is tiny, with only a bed and a chest of drawers. There's baby stuff everywhere, and I have to wonder how she manages in such restricted quarters.
I step inside and watch as Enzo takes the baby out of his sister's arms, cradling her to his chest.
"I swear she gets bigger and bigger every time I see her."
"She grows up so fast..." Lina shakes her head, a smile playing at her lips. "And who..." she trails off, turning towards me, a small frown marring her forehead.
Enzo's family must have amazing genes.
I've noticed this even in Rocco and Lucia. If it weren't for the extra pounds around his stomach, Rocco wouldn't look so pudgy and old. But even so, I detected where Enzo must have gotten some of his features from. And then there's Lucia, and as much as I'm wont to admit, she is a very striking woman.
But Catalina... Even though she's inherited her mother's looks, there is no trace of malice on her features. There's only a type of serenity that emphasizes her beauty.
"This is my wife, Allegra." Enzo inclines his head towards me, but his attention is wholly focused on his niece.
"Nice to meet you," I lean in to kiss her on both cheeks, and I'm surprised when she draws me in for a hug.
"Welcome to the family," she pats my back affectionately. Just then the baby starts crying in Enzo's arms, and Catalina quickly takes her from him.
"And this little troublemaker is my daughter, Claudia." She gazes lovingly at her daughter, cooing at her to make her stop crying. And she does. The moment she feels comfortable in Catalina's arms, a peaceful expression settles on her face, going back to sleep.
"It's not you, Enzo," Lina whispers at her brother, seeing his downcast expression, "she's not used to other people holding her."
Lina is careful as she takes a seat on the bed, her daughter in her arms.
"Tell me more," she looks up at us, "how did this happen? When did you get married?"
I open my mouth to reply, but Enzo starts first, relating our meeting but distorting everything that happened afterwards. Lina is listening attentively, a dreamy look on her face as Enzo lies through his teeth about our grand love story.
"Oh, Enzo! I'm so happy for you. You do not know how much I wanted to see you settle down with someone you loved." Catalina continues to gush over the fabricated story, and Enzo continues to keep his ruse up, giving her additional details about our wedding.
I merely smile and let him do the talking, since it seems important to him that his sister believes he's married for love.
While I observe their interaction, I can't help but feel like there's a stranger in front of me. Enzo is so free with his smiles, his voice so full of affection. It's the first time I'm seeing this side of him, and I don't want to.
Because if I know that he's not a bully all the time, I may falter.
The visit is soon cut short by Mother Superior, who tells us it's time to leave. Enzo gives Catalina another hug and kisses Claudia's brow. I go over too, and I hug her goodbye.
But before I go, she whispers something in my ear.
"Be gentle with him, he needs it." I frown at her words, but I don't get to reply as we're ushered towards the exit.
"Your sister is wonderful," I say when we reach the car. Even in that small amount of time, I could see that she's nothing like the rest of their family.
"She is," he agrees, starting the car and going back home.
"Does she really have to stay there? You could rent her an apartment." I'd been outraged by the condition of her quarters, so crowded, and so run down. To live there with a child? No, I can't imagine how hard that must be.
"I wish," he replies drily, "but then she'd be fair game for everyone — enemies and allies alike. And father would never help her if something happened, that's for sure. Here, at least she's safe."
I nod, but inside I'm horrified about the world we live in.
"Why did you take me there with you?" I ask, even though I'm mostly curious about why he lied about our marriage.
"My sister," he starts, taking a deep breath, "she's a romantic at heart. She's too innocent for this world, and I know she always fears for my safety. I'd do anything if that means I can assuage her worries in any small way."
I look at him from the corner of my eyes, his profile bathed in the shadows of the night, and I realize something.
The devil may have a heart.
Chapter Eleven
MY PLAN IS MATERIALIZING. I've started noticing a slight change in Allegra, and for a few weeks now our confrontations have evolved from purely hostile to teasingly antagonistic. Considering how bad our arguments would get in the past, I'd say it's a vast improvement.
Maman Margot's advice to let her see my softer side worked, and after we'd come back from visiting Catalina, I'd even noted a change in the cadence of her voice — no longer accusingly bellicose, now there was a sweetness to it that was previously missing.
And I like it. A lot.
My little tigress has a quiet demeanor that shines through even when she's not sharpening her claws on my hide.
And so I find myself increasingly closer to my goal of making her more receptive to my will.
The door to my study opens, and I see her hesitantly move forward until she's in the center of the room.
When she'd found out that the library she'd loved so much was in fact my personal study, she'd been a little stubborn, refusing to set foot in it again. But after much coaxing, I'd managed to convince her that there's no harm in stopping by and borrowing a book.
Little does she know that the night she'd been here, she'd only made it inside because of a fluke. I'd forgotten to lock the door to the study when I'd gone to bed.
Since the room houses my extensive book collection — most of them priceless — no one is allowed inside. Not even the cleaning staff.
She's the first person to enter here, and the only person I'd let to handle my treasures. Not because she's that important, but because I can see the care she has for books, the way she handles them as if they are invaluable — just like I do.
"What's it going to be tonight?" I step next to her, joining her in her perusal of the titles.
"Hmm," she starts, lifting her finger to stroke her
jaw pensively. "I don't know. What do you recommend?" She looks up at me, her eyes shimmering in the dim lighting of the room. They say that brown is the most common eye color, but when I look into her eyes, it's like I'm seeing it for the first time.
I clear my throat slightly, realizing I'd been staring.
"What are you in the mood for? Romance?"
She shakes her head.
"History? Philosophy? I think I even have some plays..." I drift off as I see her stop in front of my Machiavelli collection.
"Why do you have so many of these?"
"Have you read it?" I ask, picking up one of the copies. She nods, coming closer to me to look at the book.
"Then you know what it is about. It's a guide to be a strong ruler."
"Yeah, I know that. I still don't understand your obsession with it." She scrunches up her nose in confusion, and the small gesture is adorable.
"It's to remind myself that power does not belong to the individual, but to the people."
"What do you mean?"
"I may stand to inherit an empire, but I am nothing without the people at the foundation of this empire. The prince should be on friendly footing with his people." I quote the passage, watching the little wheels inside her head working.
"Like the leviathan?" She asks, and my mouth pulls up in a secret smile. I hadn't imagined she'd be so versed in political texts, but she always finds novel ways to surprise me.
"No. There's a central difference between Machiavelli and Hobbes. The former advises for a strong rulership, but in tandem with the people — never make them hate you if possible. The latter... make them fear you, it doesn't matter if they hate you along the way; rule with an iron fist."
"I'd think the Hobbesian approach would work better, wouldn't it? If people fear you, then you don't have to worry about them betraying you."
"You're on to something, little tigress. But fear only works to a certain extent. In our world, fear rules everything but loyalty. Loyalty is earned through love and respect."
"So you're trying to be a fair ruler, that's what you're saying." She seems to ruminate over this, choosing her words carefully. "I guess I can see how fear would limit your options. But isn't it harder to get people to like you? Fear is easy; it's instinctive. Love? That takes work."
"And because it takes work, the end result is much more satisfying."
"Sometimes I forget I'm dealing with a narcissist. Of course you'd rather have their adoration than fear," she mutters under her breath.
"Itching for a fight, little tigress?"
"Not now," she waves her hand dismissively at me, "maybe later. Now I just want a good book." She turns her back to me, moving to the other wall to peruse the titles. Eventually, she settles on a Darwin volume and makes herself comfortable in a chair. I keep watching her, wondering if she picked up on the subtle context.
I could have easily ruled her with fear. And there was one pivotal moment where the dynamics of our relationship could have irrevocably changed.
I'd had her sprawled on the bed and naked under me. It would have been so easy to push inside her body, take her innocence and brand her as mine. I would have been a brute doing it, and while she might not have struggled, she would have hated me afterwards.
I don't know if it's because of my history with women, but I couldn't bring myself to do that to her. Not when it would have meant seeing her expression change from mild trepidation to hatred.
Yes, it's difficult to gain someone's love. But I find that I'd rather put in the effort to see her smile at me than bare her teeth.
We spend the rest of the evening in companionable silence, and I sneak a glance at her now and then, hoping to catch her doing the same. But she's entirely immersed in her book. It's like I don't even exist.
In the beginning I would have categorized it as refreshing, but now it's starting to make me worry. What if she really doesn't find me attractive?
Women and men alike have been all over me since before I even knew what attraction was. More often than not I found myself in situations where people couldn't take no for an answer. I never thought I'd ever find someone so immune to me. But then again, I've never wanted someone to find me attractive before.
It's also the first time I find myself thinking what it would be like to let go...
Allegra's fingers caress the edge of the page, her teeth nibbling at her bottom lip in concentration. I watch transfixed as she turns the page, her eyes focused on the words.
Sexy. She's so damn sexy.
And that's a problem.
Anyone who'd look at her for the first time would find an unassuming woman with nondescript features. It only takes one interaction with her to see how her entire face lights up in the face of an argument, how the proud jut of her chin shows her silent dignity, or how her eyes sparkle with intelligence.
Her looks might be ordinary, yet her character is anything but. There's a strength in her that belies her frail appearance.
And that makes her beautiful.
"What?" She looks up to see me staring. I'm ashamed to admit that I find myself briefly flustered by the direct challenge in her eyes, but I quickly collect myself, baiting her with another perceived taunt.
"I was just watching a beautiful woman."
She scoffs, as I knew she would, shaking her head, and redirecting her attention back to her book.
She doesn't believe me. Because she only trusts those who mean to put her down.
And I vow to myself that someday she'll see the truth in my words.
CAREFULLY PLACING THE notebook back under the mattress, I start planning my next move. I would have never pegged her for a diary type of girl, but once I'd realized that all her thoughts were laid down on paper for me to read, I couldn't resist the temptation.
Not when it means that I can move past those strong walls she's put up.
Her entries since we got married haven't been very detailed, hinting at discomfort and a fear of the unknown. She hadn't trusted even her precious diary with her feelings about me — good or bad.
The main reason I'd resorted to snooping had been to see whether I'm making any headway with her. Instead, there's barely a mention of my name inside. Not reassuring in any way. It just confirms my theory that she couldn't care less about me.
As usual, the prospect that Allegra is truly immune to me makes my blood boil, and I briefly close my eyes, trying to regain my control. I have a few other aces under my sleeve, and soon she should succumb to my charm.
Although her feelings for me hadn't made it inside her little notebook, her deepest desires had. She's carefully crafted a bucket list — things she's always longed to do but never could. And luckily for me, I can give her some of those things.
Heading to her closet, I start sorting through her new garderobe, looking for a classy dress suitable for the occasion I have in mind. I find a creamy white gown that seems acceptable, and I pair it with a pair of pumps.
"What are you doing?" Allegra bursts through the door, hands as her hips as she narrows her eyes at me.
"I'm taking you out. Here," I throw the dress in her hands, "put this on and meet me down in ten."
I don't wait for her to argue as I close the door behind me and head downstairs.
I'm already dressed in a tux, so I make some phone calls while I wait around to make sure everything will go smoothly. I have a box booked at the Met Opera for every season. I usually attend it with maman Margot, since she's always been an opera lover, but as I've been away more often than not, she's taken to going by herself, or with whatever lover she has at the moment.
Tonight, though, it will be only me and Allegra.
Allegra, looking exquisite in the gown I'd chosen for her, makes her way down the stairs. I turn to give her my arm, but she regards me suspiciously.
"Come one, I don't bite," I start, but I can't help myself so I add, "for now."
She rolls her eyes at me, but holds on to my arm.
"Are the shoes b
othering you?" I ask, looking down at her awkwardly trying to walk in the pumps.
"I'm not used to walking in heels," she replies, a tinge of red marring her cheeks.
"Do you want to get changed in something more comfortable?"
She quickly shakes her head.
"Not with this dress. Let's just go."
A car is waiting outside to take us to the opera.
"Where are we going?" She asks, her forehead stuck to the window as the flashing lights of the city start to greet us.
"Surprise?" I attempt a light-hearted joke, but the look she gives me has me shaking my head, relenting and answering her. "We have an appointment at the opera," I say, phrasing it in such a way that she thinks it's mandatory we attend.
While I aim to please her, I can't do it overtly, otherwise she might think I have a hidden agenda. Well, I do, but it's best if she doesn't think that.
"The opera?" The breathlessness of her voice betrays the excitement simmering inside of her.
In her diary, she'd described all the operas she wants to see, all of which she'd only read about in other texts and had intrigued her about this type of sung theater — her own words. I can only hope that by making this small dream of hers come true, I can gain some footing with her.
"Yes, we're expected to attend tonight's premiere." I lie. I don't know if it's a premiere or not, but if Allegra believes this is a special occasion that requires our presence, then she won't be suspicious of me.
"I've always wanted to go to the opera," she admits, turning slightly so I can only see her profile. She's nibbling at her lip, and I bet she's barely able to contain her excitement.
"You've never been?" I ask, even though I already know the answer. Her diary had opened my eyes to more than just her bucket list. I'd also been able to get a glimpse into her life in Milena, as well as her carefully planned escape into Agrigento. All for a chance to live, even if for a day.
She shakes her hand, a sad smile playing at her lips.
"I've never left my village. Where could I have gone to the opera?"
Morally Decadent (Morally Questionable Book 3) Page 15
