Chapter 9 - The Wrath of the Titan
Forty minutes later, the private study on the ground floor felt like a pressure cooker about to explode.
Alessandro stood by the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the courtyard, his back to me. His broad shoulders were rigid under his charcoal shirt, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles were stark white.
Marcus had already been transferred to a secure underground holding facility miles away—at Alessandro’s direct, terrifying command.
“You lied to me,” Alessandro said.
His voice wasn't loud. It was dangerously quiet, vibrating with a suppressed fury that made the air in the room feel heavy and toxic.
“I didn't lie,” I whispered from the leather armchair near the fireplace, hugging my arms around myself. “I omitted things. To protect myself.”
Alessandro turned around slowly. His amber eyes were blazing with a dark, primal rage that eclipsed anything I had ever seen from him.
“To protect yourself?” he stepped forward, his voice rising, cutting through the silence like a whip. “A criminal from your past walks into my home—into your bedroom—and puts a gun on you and my unborn child, and you call that protecting yourself? If my guards had been thirty seconds slower, Elizabeth, you could be dead right now!”
“Do you think I wanted this?!” I shouted back, standing up from the chair, tears of frustration and fear finally spilling over onto my cheeks. “Do you think I asked for any of this?! I ran from men like Marcus because my life was a nightmare before I ever stepped foot in your hotel! You think your money and your walls make you untouchable, but the real world is messy, and terrifying, and full of ghosts you can't just buy off!”
Alessandro stopped dead in his tracks.
The fierce, explosive anger in his eyes flickered, replaced by a sudden, heavy wave of anguish. He closed the distance between us in two long strides, grabbing my shoulders—not with brutality, but with a desperate, crushing hold, pulling me against his chest.
“I can protect you,” Alessandro whispered fiercely against my hair, his voice trembling slightly. “I can fix anything, Elizabeth. But you have to let me in. You have to tell me everything. No more secrets. No more hiding.”
I buried my face in his chest, breathing in the scent of sandalwood and rain, finally letting the armor crack.
“I was so scared,” I sobbed softly. “I was scared that if you knew who I really was—where I came from—you’d look at me the way everyone else did. Just a girl from the gutter.”
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Alessandro pulled back, his amber eyes searching my face with absolute, unshakeable devotion. He cupped my cheeks with his warm palms, wiping away my tears with his thumbs.
“I don't care where you came from, Elizabeth,” Alessandro swore, his voice ringing with absolute truth. “I only care where you’re going. And from now on, nobody—no ghost from your past, no rival from my present—will ever touch you again. I swear it on my life.”
