Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Annalisa 

I could barely remember the details of what happened after Cristiano led me to this huge bedroom that was now mine. He had left to answer a call and I sat on the queen-sized bed to rest for a moment, but before I knew it, I fell into the warm embrace of sleep. Now, with a stretch of my hands, I sat up only to find myself surrounded by five women in maid uniform. My heart almost jumped out of my chest. I knew Cristiano was so rich, but who wakes up to five women waiting to dress them like some kind of royal?

I almost thought I did something wrong, but before I could get out of the bed, the head maid, who looked a few years older than me, stepped forward to stop me. “We’ve picked your outfit for today, ma’am,” she said in a very calm voice. “We’re ready to dress you.”

“I can do it myself,” I mumbled quickly, scrambling to pull the sheet closer to my chest. “And I don’t need to be dressed up… I have nowhere to go.”

It was as though my protest had gone in one of her ears and out of the other, she didn't seem unmoved by what I said at all. “This is how it’s done here, ma'am.”

Cristiano's world was nothing close to mine. I didn't even have the right to dress myself? What was this? I wasn’t used to it, and I could never get used to being naked in front of strangers, but I knew arguing would be pointless. I sighed, trying to swallow the discomfort that was tingling up my spine.

The head maid seemed to notice my discomfort, and with a brief glance at the other maids, she dismissed them all. “I’ll handle it,” she said softly.

“Thank you,” I whispered, relief washing over me like a wave.

I moved toward the bathroom, but to my surprise, she was following behind me. “I… I don’t need help in there either,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “I’m not some princess in a royal household.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Mr. Cristiano likes his women clean.”

I felt a chill run down my spine. I knew I had given him permission to control my life, but what kind of man insists on controlling every little detail like that? Only a weirdo! It was becoming clearer that living here was going to be much harder than I had thought. Resisting would only lead to more awkwardness, so I gave in and climbed into the bathtub, sinking into the bubbles and allowing the warm water to relieve my tired body. I thought she was only going to watch from the side in case I might fall, but I stiffened when I felt a soft sponge run through my back.

“What’s your name?” I asked, desperate for some kind of conversation to distract from the fact that I was being bathed by a stranger.

“Grace,” she answered simply. 

“Does Cristiano… get bathed like this too?” I regretted asking the moment the words left my lips.

I couldn't see her, but I knew Grace nodded. “Yes.”

There was this strange pain in my chest when I heard that one word. I wasn't sure if it was sadness, but all I knew was that I didn't like the feeling. Of course, as his wife, I wasn’t allowed in his room. But now someone else was touching him, cleaning him… the thought bothered me more than it should have.

Grace seemed to notice my silence and added, “He had a favorite maiden who did it for him.”

“Had?” I repeated.

“Yes,” she continued in a straightforward tone. “About two days ago, he wasn't his usual self, and he sent her away because she had gotten the temperature of his bath wrong.”

A giggle escaped my lips before I could stop it. So that’s all it took? I couldn’t help but find some kind satisfaction in knowing he wasn’t as flawless as he tried to appear. The man who controlled almost everything still had a childish impatience. Interesting.

When the bath was over, Grace led me to the closet, where I was shocked to see that every dress inside fit me perfectly. It wasn’t just the dresses, but the shoes too. They were all exactly my size.

“How did you know?” I asked, turning to Grace.

“Mr. Cristiano gave us your sizes,” she replied.

Of course, he did. Was there anything unknown to him? I didn't think so. He was Cristiano Morano after all.

After Grace finished helping me into a dress that made me look better than I had felt in days, we headed downstairs for breakfast. As I entered the dining room, Cristiano was already there, sitting at the head of the table with his attention fully on the newspaper he had in his hands. His black-trousered legs were crossed, and a cup of coffee was set in front of him. He looked like the perfect model for the front cover of a magazine. The outline of his muscular arms in the black shirt he wore and the silver cross chain resting on his chest that matched his gray eyes made something move in me.

I stopped in my tracks, stunned by how effortlessly handsome he was. My heart fluttered, and I quickly scolded myself internally. Get a grip, Annalisa.

“You’re going to keep standing there?” His voice cut through my thoughts. “You’re hindering the maid from doing her job.”

It was only then I noticed a maid standing behind me, waiting for me to descend the stairs so she could sweep away whatever dirt I had carried. I wonder how I could get used to this. With an awkward clear of my throat, I muttered a quick “Good morning,” but he didn’t respond. His focus remained on the newspaper as he sipped his coffee.

The table was set once I had my seat, but only my side had food. I frowned, glancing at him. “Aren’t you hungry?”

“I’m not the one who needs to stuff my face,” he said, still not looking up from the paper. “Help yourself. It’s all yours.”

“Well, don’t mind if I do!” I responded cheerfully, though a part of me hated how cheeky he was. Being an actress came with a strict diet that I couldn't avoid. It was always vegetables and fewer calories, but today, I figured I deserve a break. I reached for the roasted turkey, only for a maid to step forward and cut it for me.

“I’m not a baby,” I snapped, pulling the knife from the maid’s hands. “I can do basic things myself.”

Cristiano’s eyes briefly met mine from his newspaper. “Why stress yourself when someone else can do it for you?”

“Sometimes there’s fun in the stress,” I shot back, feeling frustrated. “I don’t know about you, but I’m not comfortable living this kind of life. I need my privacy. I can bathe myself. I can feed myself.”

He finally looked at me with an emotionless expression. “Fine. Do as you please.”

I breathed a sigh of relief as he dismissed the maids. At last, I was free of their uncomfortable presence. As I began to devour the meal in front of me, a thought struck me. “You know…” I began.

Cristiano interrupted with a very sarcastic voice. “Weren’t you taught table manners as a kid?”

I glared at him, frustrated by his constant criticism. “Why are you so uptight?”

“I’m going to laugh if you choke,” he said, folding the newspaper and setting it aside. His legs uncrossed as he leaned forward, folding his arms across his chest. His gray eyes bore into mine, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe.

“I’m not going to choke,” I muttered, feeling heat rise to my face.

Cristiano’s lips twisted into a smirk, but he said nothing. “By the way, how did you know my clothing sizes? I'm not that popular to have my personal details all over the internet.”

He chuckled darkly, his gaze still on mine. “Oh, baby girl,” Cristiano said in a dangerously low voice. “I remember what I touched.”