Chapter 7: Hell

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"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I slammed the front door and shouted at the whole villa

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"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I slammed the front door and shouted at the whole villa. Behind me laid two bodies of bodyguards who did not wanted to let me in. I warned them. "Moretti!" I shouted louder when no one was answering.

A few seconds later, Francesco appeared at the door by the stairs.

"Why so loud in the morning, principessa?" He walked towards me with a smirk on his face.

I raised my hand to slap him, but he grabbed it just in front of his cheek.

"Did you think that would work?" He snorted.

"Yes." I answered and hit his stomach with my left hand. But the guy has good muscles. It was like hitting a rock. I think it hurts more for me than him.

"Aren't you learning?" He raised an eyebrow.

"You can have those muscles all over your body, but what about that face? And those teeth." I shifted my gaze to his smile. "They would look good on that floor, don't you think?" I smiled and pulled my hand from his grab.

What does he think about himself? I don't know what kind of deal he made with my father, but it won't stop me from killing him.

"Actually, I didn't expect different response." He chuckled.

He would look good with purple eye. Maybe even a little red would suit him.

"I don't know what deal you made with my father, but I'm no one's property. You can't buy me, because I'm not an object."

"And who says you are?" I heard a woman's voice coming from the living room. An elderly woman peeked around the corner.

Her long brown hair blew in an imaginary wind as she walked towards us. Her eyes were as dark as Francesco's. She could have been fifty something. I'd kill for the body she has in her years.

"Who says women are objects?" She walked over to Francesco with an angry look.

"No one, mother."

Mother? This beautiful woman is his mother? How could this, come out of this?

"That's what I thought." Did she just silence him, or does it just seem to me? "Now." She turned to me. Will she say something to me? Will she offend me? Why am I afraid of her and I admire her at once? What's wrong with me? "I apologize for my son." She gave him another stern look. "I don't know what he told you, but I'm really sorry. I raised him better. I'm Alessia Moretti." She smiled at me and shook my hand.

"Amira Devlin." I accepted her.

"Anastasia Devlin?" I froze. I haven't heard that name come out of another mouth in a long time.

"W-did you know her?"

"Of course, I did. You have her cheekbones." She laughed. "How is she? I haven't heard from her in a long time."

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