.52. Crazy

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People who suffer in silence once asked for help and were met with silence.

. . .


We had a suite with three rooms

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We had a suite with three rooms. They went to their rooms to shower and I went to the balcony, sitting on the chair and looking out at the beautiful city.

I dug into my handbag for my journal. I spread it open on the table and took out a pen.

Florence is beautiful. As beautiful as I imagined. I'm yet to explore it but I think it will be worth it. There's something about this city...there is something about this country which calls out to every part of me. I have never felt like I belong anywhere but I catch myself feeling at home while I looked at the beauty of this place.

I can almost imagine living here, opening the window shutters and looking down at the city or up st the moon. I can imagine being myself happy here.

This is weird as happiness is almost foreign to me.

I hesitated.

It's my birthday. I'm nineteen now. Giovanni and Fabiano are being...nice, I suppose. Some things were mentioned at Lunch which has put me on the edge but...do not scare me.

Should I be grateful that they took me from my father? That they took me from this new Cassian character? My father has hurt me. It disgusts me that I am connected to that man by blood, to know that kind of filth in is my blood. I am grateful for being away from him, underneath my terror of being taken by the Valentinos I had not paid attention to the fact that I could no longer be given away to any of my father's friends.

Small mercy.

Then there is Cassian, who perhaps is Ryder. Was everything about Ryder a lie? Did he make my father lie about him? Why would Cassian do that?

A million questions are burning in my mind but I somehow doubt the Valentinos will answer. They seem to like to keep their cards close to the chest but they can show them to me, it's not like I'm playing the game.

I'm just here. Powerless to do anything at men decide my fate.

I sighed.

Till the next time I feel overwhelmed by emotions


"What are you writing?"

I flinched wildly, snapping my journal shut.

I looked up at Giovanni who was ruffling a towel through his hair, his lower body covered in sweatpants. His tatted body was on full display. My eyes flickered on his tattoos. There was a cross on the collar and some sort of flowers near the collar bones and a broken skull near the ribs and-

"Are you going to answer me like a good girl or do you plan on breaking the rules already?"

"I..." I bit my lip. "Journal. I was praising the city."

He hummed. "I'd like to read."

"It's personal...I'd like to keep it private," I hugged the journal to my chest.

He thought about it for a moment. "Alright. One day I will convince you to let me read it."

"Probably not," I said for some reason.

He smirked. "Don't challenge me, Amore. I love it too much." He winked.

I stood up. "Can we go out?" I asked, wanting his attention off the journal.

"As soon as Fabiano decides to get out of the shower." He threw the towel away, walking closer to me. I gulped, suddenly nervous.

He wrapped his muscular arms around me, pulling me to his chest.

The tip of his nose caressed my cheekbone gently, his breath hitting my skin. "You look so pretty when you are happy."

He set his forehead against mine, pulling my waist flush against him. "Always wanna see you smile, Piccolina."

I smiled. I couldn't help it. "Be good to me. I'll smile."

He smiled. "I can be good to you," he muttered. "We can be good to each other, hm?"

I nodded. "Alright."

"Alright." He chuckled. "You...drive me crazy. And I'm already crazy."

I giggled. I couldn't help it. "You don't seem much crazy just..." I showed him a little space between my thumb and index finger. "This much crazy."

"I know many people who'd beg to differ," Fabiano said as he walked closer. "Many people."

"Shut the fuck up, Fabi," Giovanni said, showing him the same space as I had shown him between his index finger and his thumb. "I'm this much crazy. Those who think otherwise will be convinced."


Fabiano rolled his eyes, chuckling. "Go out one clothes on, Gio. You might want to wear flats, Leyla. The streets of Florence are meant for walking."

I nodded. "Okay."

Giovanni kissed my eyelids and let go of me, swatting my ass. "Go."

"That hurt," I mumbled.

"I just tapped you." He rolled his eyes. "Go change."

. . .

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