No Strings Attached

CHAPTER 24

"I figured before was a bit far," is all he says, and I wrinkle my nose at his cheap excuse of an apology.

"So you're redeeming yourself," I say in an unimpressed tone.

"No, I don't need your approval," he says bluntly, causing me to scoff.

"You're being arrogant," I snap, causing him to chuckle.

"I don't need you to like me," he says in a bored tone, making me cheeks heat up.

"Good because I fucking don't," I snap again, causing him to laugh again.

Why the fuck am I acting like this? I'm acting like a fucking teenage girl, and I hate it.

I lean against the bench as I watch Vincenzo put butter in a pan, letting it melt before placing a slice of bread on it, letting it cook before placing the cheese and second slice of bread on top of it.

I watch in fascination as he seems so concentrated on making a goddamn toastie. He's acting differently and it's scaring me, I don't like it. I feel as if I've worn him down and now he's just given up, dropped his little act and just surrendered.

But I don't feel the satisfaction I usually do, there's no proud feeling seeing him surrender as the other men did when they accepted their fate. I don't feel like I've achieved something and that bothers me.

I snap my gaze away when he turns around, trying to distract myself as he takes out a plate and deftly transfers the toastie onto the plate, pushing the plate towards me as he turns the stove off.

"Aren't you going to eat?" I ask, blowing on the toastie to cook it down. He shakes his head as he takes out a glass and fills it with juice, "Not hungry," he mumbles, passing me the glass.

I hum as I take a bite, trying to hide how good it tastes, it's just a fucking cheese toastie for gods sake.

He smirks as he pours himself a glass of orange juice, watching me closely over the rim of the cup.

I try to eat slowly but this is my second meal in 2 days, so I attack it like a starving animal. Vincenzo watches me with an amused look as I gulp down the juice and wipe my mouth on my sleeve, standing up and pushing the stool back in.

"Well thank you for that, but I'm going to bed now," I sigh, feeling relaxed around him for perhaps the first time.

He hums and walks over to me, grabbing my chin as he tilts my head upwards; "I'm going to make one thing clear for when you're here. Don't let this little meal fool you, I neither trust or like you, and if I get the impression that you're here to sabotage me and my family, I will not hesitate to kill you, is that understood?" his voice is cold as his eyes cloud back over with their usual resentment. I glare up at him and his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek. "I said, is that understood?" he grits out, his eyes dangerous as he looks at me.

"Yes," I spit out, wrenching my chin from his grasp before walking out of the kitchen, shoving his shoulder on the way as I storm upstairs.

I fling my door open and close it behind me, standing in my room as I try to make sense of what just happened.

He was being so nice to me, so nice it made me comfortable around him. So fucking nice I let my guard down. And I hate that.

I feel my insides churn as I hear the lock on my door click. I spin around and hear Vincenzo's footsteps growing more distant.

He fucking locked me in.

I close my eyes as my breathing picks up. It's so fucking stupid, how every time I get locked in a room I panic, memories from when my Grandfather locked me in my room after he murdered my parents.

Locked me in for a week before he started 'training' me.

I feel my stomach flip as the click of the lock repeats itself in my mind, a wave of heat flooding over me.

I run into the ensuite and open the toilet lid, my shoulders convulsing as I vomit out the dinner I just had.

I grip the sides of the toilet bowl as I start gasping for air, the smell of alcohol suddenly flooding my senses. Vincenzo's grip on my arm mixes with my Grandfather as I vomit again, feelings hands that aren't even here, hearing screams which aren't actually happening.

Am I going insane?

My body shakes as I gag, nothing coming up as I hang my head over the toilet bowl.

This is so fucking pathetic.

I'm Anastasia Mancini, the fucking Fiore Mortale, and I'm hanging my head like some sort of dog.

"Dogs don't talk they listen,"

Angry tears flood my eyes as I remember Vincenzo's words, his arrogance and cruelty making me hate him even more. My hatred for him rebounding into disgust at myself for letting my guard down around him.

If he wants to play the petty game then so be it, for two can play that game Vincenzo.

//

Next chapter will be out tomorrow, so until then have a good day/night and don't forget to vote!!

Abi <3