Chapter 4: The Beast Inside

Amber's pov:

He heads back inside and leaves me in the cold, his words repeating in my head. I walk into the house after a few minutes. Tesoro?

I rest my head on the silky cushions laying on the bed of the guestroom pondering Alessandro's behavior. He seems to be completely different than I'd expected. I thought that he would be the typical cold-hearted and angry mob boss, but he portrayed himself to be rather sweet.

With these thoughts, I doze off.

The following day:

"Amber, we've got to go." I heard a voice, and I replied without opening my heavy eyelids, "Mhmm...Five more minutes."

"No, sit up, right now." The voice asserts its dominance. I groaned but obeyed it and then, opened my eyes. It was Alessandro. His muscular body was highlighted by the tight, blue suit sitting on him, and one of his large hands carried a thick silver watch that looked like it cost a fortune.

"Don't order me around!" I snap. Alessandro smirks at me, then says, "Tesoro, get used to it, you're my wife now."

"Yes, wife, not your slave." My voice did not sound as confident as I expected it to. Alessandro says, "You should've read the contract properly instead of soaking yourself in the wine."

I gulp. He hands over a glass of electrolyte-packed decoction. I drink it, slowly and he observes my lips, waiting to see what I've got to say. I ask, worried, "What do you mean by that?" Alessandro simply places the contract in front of me and walks out of the room, the empty glass in his hand.

My hands start sweating as I pick up the paper.

I read it; the contract is about our deal, one where as long as I pretend to be his wife, I get to run my gallery. And nothing else. That idiot got me all worked up for a second there, I thought that he had made me sign something unsporting.

Showering and dressing up took up about half an hour of my time, then, I headed outside the room, and down to the marble-top table. There, I saw a girl who shared Alessandro’s hazel eyes.

"Bianca, this is Amber, my wife," Alessandro said without the slightest stutter, he continued, "Amber, this is Bianca, my sister." I wave and smile, feebly. She does not respond.

I tried to make conversation, but she didn't speak, so I didn't push her any further. She left the table and headed outside the main door, hurriedly. Alessandro looked hurt by her actions but he was quick to put on a poker face. Many questions roam around my head, but they don't leave my mouth.

Alessandro says, "Amber, here's your PA, she will be assisting you with the art gallery." A tall woman whose curves are accentuated by her bodycon dress walks in. She displayed her pearly whites as she shook Alessandro's hand.

With a sweet tone, she says, still looking at Alessandro, "It has been so long since we met, I've missed you." He says, "Lilly, meet Amber, my wife, and your boss." Lilly's eyes were filled with rage as she turned toward me.

She says, "Hi. Amber." Great, she seems to hate me already. "Hey!" I try to sound enthusiastic. Alessandro leaves without notice. Lilly whispers, "Amber, here's the thing. Alessandro is not the kind of guy you want to tame. He has a wild beast hidden within him, and trust me once you see that side of him, I don't think you'd want to be with him. Besides, I know him very well, and you're not his type." Harsh, but she might be right.

Nevertheless, I've got to put on a show, so I say, "Lilly, I'd appreciate it if you could keep our relationship strictly professional, we've just met and I am not comfortable with discussing my private life with you."

Her lips move again, "I'm sorry about that, but I've been a part of his private life for quite some time, so I just thought that I'd let you know."

My lips are sealed. Of course, they've slept together. I say, "It would be great if we discuss the art gallery. Whatever you had was a part of the past, and I respect his boundaries. So, this conversation will be restricted between me and my husband."

She orders the chauffeur to drive us to the location. We reach nearly fifteen minutes of awkward silence later.

I always love to start from scratch. I start to think about the various ways in which I can turn this plain and boring space into a ravishing hall. I say, "Lilly, note down my ideas and help me set this place up." She does her work excellently. Now I know why Alessandro hired her.

We work alongside a setting-up studio that we hired. After eight long hours of work, I returned home. Lilly, surprisingly, tagged along.

The table was filled with all kinds of mouth-watering meals. Alessandro was talking to someone over the phone. His tone displayed his anger, “I don’t want to hear anything, just start by plucking his fingers off one by one, maybe then the bastard will answer.”

His words make me feel uncomfortable. Lilly smiles, clearly not paying attention to his words, but rather undressing him with her lust-filled eyes.

I stand in front of her and say, “Lilly, great work! I expect you to keep it up, and be on time tomorrow.” She does not budge, her gaze still fixed on Alessandro.

Ugh. What does she see in him? Sure he’s attractive, his voice is breathtaking and he pretends to be nice, but he kills people and tortures them for a living. To be honest, I should be more worried for myself, after all, he is my so-called husband.

I walk up to Alessandro, who is still engaged in his conversation, and I grab his tie, aggressively. His attention shifts to me, but I don’t know what to do next.

He says, “Ken, call me when you’re done.” He then cuts the call and places his hand on my lower hip and says, “Love, we’ve got a guest in the house.” I bite my lip, nervously. Why did I think that this was a good idea?

I say, “Lilly, do us a favor and leave. My husband and I have some activities planned.” My eyes fixed on Alessandro.

I shoot Lilly a glare and she looks away. Alessandro, making sure that no one can hear us, whispers, “What’re you doing, Amber?” I say, still nervous, “Playing wife.” He chuckles. Then says, “Am I making you nervous?”

I smile and say with a sarcastic tone, “No, not at all, it’s completely normal coming home to your husband and hearing him ordering someone to pluck fingers off of someone.” I feel tingles on my lower back as his grip tightens. 

He assures me, “This is not the worst that you’ll hear.” I slide his hands away from my hips and move away. At least Lilly left.

At the dinner table, I ask Alessandro, “Where’s Bianca?” He does not respond. I ask him, again. He says, “I don’t want to talk about her right now.” I don’t push him any further. "I am planning to host the opening of the art gallery next week, on Friday," I tell him, then continue, "It will be a royal-themed ceremony." He says, "That's great."

Amidst the tinkling of our plates, I see a large, white veil covering something attached to the wall at the dead end of the hallway to my left. I think to myself, it might be a painting.

We talk about him, how I should behave with his brother and that sort, but my mind was stuck on the mysterious object hooked to the wall.

I don’t enquire about the veil. Rather, I walk towards it and pull it. As the veil drops to the floor, the painting of Alessandro standing next to another man is uncovered. I was shaken by its beauty. Alessandro looks genuinely happy in this picture. Wow, the man can smile. Then, I observe the man next to him. The man’s facial features match that of Alessandro.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Alessandro’s voice startles me. I say, “The art piece is marvelous. The texture and the color combinations bring it to life. I am admiring it.”

I turned around to face him. His eyes were darker than usual, the same look that I saw the first day I met him. He said, “Walk away.”

“I don’t always do as I’m told.” I don’t know why I said that. He said, “Amber, you’re under MY roof, so I suggest that you do as you’re told.” I clench my fists. His words remind me of my father.

I say, “Alessandro, don’t you dare order me around. I will not pretend to be your wife if you treat me this way.” He smirks, then says, “Do that and I will make sure that any chance you have at establishing an art gallery will be ripped away from you.” Now, he reminds me of my stepmother.

I scoff, “I don’t care about those threats, I’ve heard them too many times.” He says, “Maybe you have, but I take action as well.”

I turn toward the painting. “Who's the man in this picture?” My voice sounds more assertive. "No one important." Alessandro scoffed. I ask, "Is he your father?" He looked taken aback, not because of my question, but rather because of the memories that were flooding his head.

"Leave, Amber." He ordered, but I didn't budge. "Is that Amos Bianchi?" After those words left my mouth, Alessandro's eyes reflected pain. He didn't speak, but rather in a swift motion threw a wooden bowl of fruits at the painting's hook.

As the painting dropped to the floor, the glass coating shattered into a thousand pieces, and the deafening sound scared the life out of me. My breathing rate spiked up and I started to feel dizzy. Alessandro came close to me and gripped my throat, aggressively.

He said, "Take his name again, and I will hurt you." I say, "Let...Let go of m..me." His grip only tightened as I gasped for air.