Review Roundup - March 22nd to April 11th, 2021

Review Roundup – March 22nd to April 11th, 2021

Not that it matters, but the reason that I haven’t done one of these in almost three weeks is that I’ve had to do full-on reviews for a couple of books and I don’t like to start anything new until I have all of my thoughts down. So if two or three reviews look familiar, it’s because GoodReads always gets a slightly shortened version of my longer reviews.

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Review Roundup - March 16th to 21st, 2021

Review Roundup – March 16th to 21st, 2021

This week I ramped up my Reading Challenge with what I thought would be easy reads while I tried to make my way through an ARC. All of these reads surprised me in some way: three of them in their goodness and the fourth for how it fell short.

It was a good week on my Kindle, though. I definitely enjoyed it.

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Pairing(s): Massimo Torricelli x Reader

 Warning(s): None, tears from your author

 A/N: Thank you sooooo so much to everyone who has read this series. I love you all immensely. Song is ‘’Hard for Me’’ by Michele Morrone. I hope every one has a very happy safe new year, thank you for sticking with me throughout this journey. 

 PART ONEPART TWOPART THREE PART FOURPART FIVEPART SIXPART SEVENPART EIGHTPART NINE PART TEN

You keep telling me that I am free to go
But I’m addicted to you
It’s a lie
It’s a lie

‘’No, absolutely not.’’

‘’And why not?’’

Cocking her head upwards, she beams at the sight of his thick eyebrows knotted together in feigned annoyance. The twinkle in his dark eyes gives him away as he grins down at her, admiring that tiny dimple that graces the left corner of her mouth whenever she laughs or smirks in mischief. Just as she is doing now. Her waves of dark hair frame her face as they bathe in this rare moment of peace. She giggles and he knows then and there that he’ll never tire of hearing it.

‘’Mario, we are absolutely not naming them ‘Brutus,’’ she sits up. His eyes immediately fell upon her proud bump, bare to see in the privacy of their little love nest. Their little miracle, their ‘’little pea’’ as she had recently coined them. Mario had been so eager to find out the sex of ‘’little pea’’, but he could not help but indulge his wife’s wishes of being surprised at the birth. They waited nearly ten years for their little miracle, a few more weeks wouldn’t hurt. It wouldn’t be much longer, he constantly found himself reflecting, only a few short weeks until they would welcome little pea home.

‘’What? It’s a classic. It’s a good, strong name for a strong boy,’’ Mario leaned forward, pressing his forehead against his wife’s as she placed his hand against her stomach, maneuvering it around her smooth skin until little pea’s strong legs began kicking against his palm much to their shared delight.

‘’Bold of you to assume we’re having a boy,’’ she quirked a brow in amusement, her full lips stretched into that smile that made it hard for Mario to breathe at times.

‘’You seem pretty confident we’re not,’’ he retorted, pressing a kiss to her nose.

She smiled up at her husband, taking in his features. As the years passed by his hair had begun to thin and gray hairs speckled around the sides, although that was most likely due to the stress that accompanied his job rather than age. He was still her Mario, her strong and protective, devoted husband. Her hand cupped his cheek, her thumb stroking his tan skin.

‘’After all these years…when will you realize I’m never wrong?’’ she sighed, leaning into his embrace as little pea’s kicks settled down into more of a flutter in her stomach.

Mario scoffed, encompassing his wife in his strong arms as they laid back down on their bed. So many years had they tried for a child, each year filled with bitter disappointment and less and less hopes of ever being a family. Just when they had begun to make their peace with the possibility of never being parents, one tiny pink ‘’+’’ sign changed their lives and filled it with newfound hope.

‘’What about Alessia?’’ she pondered, staring up at the ceiling as they curled up to one another.

A small, genuine smile graced Mario’s lips. He looked down at her, kissing her forehead. ‘’I like it. I like it a lot.’’ She smiled back, sighing as she stretched out her legs, enjoying the feel of her husband’s hands running along her skin.

‘’I have been thinking…of stepping down as Torricelli’s bodyguard.’’

He felt her stiffen a bit at the confession. He knew she wasn’t a fan of his line of work. She was aware of the horrors he had witnessed since joining the Torricelli clan. More than on one occasion had she awoken to him having night terrors or had to scrub his shirts until her knuckles were sore from getting crimson stains out of them. While she hated the lifestyle that came with her husband’s job, she knew it was no use to convince him to ever leave it. As hard as it was saying goodbye to him every morning, not knowing if that would be the last time she’d ever see him, she remained loyal to him and supported him to the best of her ability. And deep down she knew that he harbored immense guilt. 

The guilt of introducing her, and now their unborn child, into the world of the mafia. That he felt less than for introducing her to this life of danger, despite the money he provided and the ostentatious lifestyle they were now capable of having. Two poor children growing up on the streets of Sicily with barely enough money to afford dinner some nights, now living in a mansion of their own thanks to one of Italy’s greatest mafia families. Yet, she wondered how different their lives could have been if they just left it all behind and moved to some unchartered island surrounded by beaches. Somewhere safe, where their child could just run and grow and be merry. Where her and Mario could grow old in a humble house and surrounded by their grandchildren. Just her, Mario, and little pea.

‘’You might step down, but I know you could never leave it for good. If not for the money, then for that little boy,’’ she hummed.

Little Massimo had always looked up to Mario. His own father loved him dearly and spent every second he could with the boy but work tended to pull him aside and left Mario to fill the role of the father more often than not. She knew Mario secretly thought the same of Massimo, and her heart ached that she could not have given him a child of his own to play soccer with or to tell stories of heroes and gods to. Until now, that is.

‘’He’s a good kid…too good for this life,’’ he thought to himself, fingers stroking the exposed skin of her back. She didn’t respond, leading him to look back down at her. They both knew it was too late, that he would carry on his father’s legacy at some point. That those sweet, innocent brown eyes would harden with age and the violence would shape him into his father and his father before him.

‘’You both are.’’

She heavily exhaled through her nose, hand cupping his cheek to force him to meet her eyes.

‘’We’re not going anywhere. We’re a family,’’ she firmly stated. Mario nodded, ignoring the terrible feeling that this was all a dream. A child’s prayer. That they were working with borrowed time. But he would allow himself to rest easy now, for her sake. He would will himself to enjoy this rare moment of bliss and light in a life where blood and crime filled every waking moment. He willed it with every atom of he possessed; that things would just remain as they were now.

‘’I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you. To both of you.’’

‘’I know. But there will be a day you will stop hating yourself for trying to make a better life for them than the ones we had as children,’’ she responded, pressing a kiss to his lips, smiling as little pea gave a hearty kick in agreement.

‘’I love you so much, Isabella. Mi principessa.’’

‘’I love you too Mario.’’

I thought that it was enough
But I don’t wanna say goodbye

You awoke with a start, letting a deep sigh exit your mouth as quietly as you could. The strong arm wrapped around your midsection aided in evening your breaths as you took in your surroundings. The familiar scent that made up Massimo filled your being with instant relief despite the few stray tears that stained the beige pillowcase under your head. It wasn’t too often that you dreamt, and if you did it usually revolved around your loved ones. A faceless woman and Mario, scenarios that were impossible to remember but you tried desperately to create and unfold. The parents that you were robbed off. Dreaming of them helped heal you over the years, despite the heaviness in your chest. You quietly untangled yourself from the man heavily snoring beside you, admiring his peaceful state and noting that even with age he was still the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.

The sun was beginning to peek through the curtains of your bedroom, New Zealand’s winter weather providing a nice comfortable chill. Winters, as you and Massimo quickly discovered, were one of the warmest times of the year, and your favorite. The locals had been kind, quick to consider the two of you and your son ‘’whanau’’ or ‘’extended family.’’ They showed you the ins and outs of life in rural New Zealand, sharing their language and culture. In no time, your family of three felt as though this place had been your true home all along.

The blades of grass tickled your bare feet as you took your morning stroll through the clearing. The Northern part of the country was full of them, and you found that your ritualistic morning walks through the fields did wonders for your health. Nearly twenty years had passed to the day the two of you moved to this new country with nothing but two suitcases filled with clothes and your infant son. So many birthdays passed, Christmases with Massimo dressing as Saint Nicholas in red swim trunks, graduations, staying up late on New Year’s Eve and waking up early to take the kids to school, all of it. 

You would think of these moments along with other random things as your bare feet felt the cool earth beneath you. You would think of Massimo, who was still as handsome as the day you met him. Older, but still divine in his own right, gray hairs gracing his beard and atop his head. Fine lines by the corner of his light brown eyes from so many years of happiness and laughter. You also thought of your children.

Your son would be visiting you two for Christmas break. Shit, you hoped Massimo would find the note you left instructing him to take the chicken out of the freezer for the special dinner tonight. Apparently y/s/n was bringing a girl he met at university and it was of the upmost importance that you and Massimo did not ‘’totally embarrass him’’ by bringing out the baby albums. You grinned at the thought of showing his girlfriend a particular picture of a six-year-old y/s/n mooning the camera because his father had not allowed him a second slice of pie.

Having your daughter had been easier, admittedly. By the time you fell pregnant with y/d/n the three of you had set roots down in your home. Y/s/n was in school and old enough to help out with his baby sister and you and Massimo had settled into comfortable careers and your neighbors acted as adopted grandparents to your children. She was a spitting image of you, but she had her father’s pride that often served as the source of numerous insignificant fights between the two. Y/s/n resembled a perfect blend of his parents but had developed your reserved and empathetic nature while y/d/n could bring the former boss of the Torricelli clan to his knees with one glare. . .most of the time.

Other times your mind drifted to things that needed to be done around the house, of the ocean, of the handful of genuine friends your little family had made over the years. Years of therapy and the occasional call with your therapist allowed you to also reflect on the past without the tight restraints of anxiety and fear restricting your breathing. Instead, you reflected on happier times. Like the way Mario would sigh in content after each sip of his black coffee. Or the rose garden that you adored so much. Or even as a child the way your pseudo-parents laughed as you ran along the shore, jumping over waves and feeling the sand between your toes.

You found yourself constantly repeating the process of making peace with the past. How the horror and the beauty of it all could both coexist and live in your memories. The good and the bad could both exist and remain true, and the guilt did not have to plague your being as it had done so in your youth. The ghosts of the past no longer filled you with dread but would rather greet you and walk alongside you like old friends. That’s the thing about dealing with ghosts, they could only hold power over you if allowed them to.

You sat down on a mossy log, sighing as you took in the smell of sea salt and fresh grass. Occasionally a few Kaimanawa horses would cautiously graze the fields, only to quickly gallop away as if they had never been there, much like the ghosts of your past.

Y/d/n would be running late for dinner, as she had begun volunteering at a local retirement center between graduating high school and making the move down South for college. Medical school was clear in her future, while her older brother preferred studying World History to become a professor one day. Admittedly, both Massimo and you had full hearts that swelled with pride at your two children who grew up exactly the way the two of you had desperately hoped for; normal. A peaceful smile graced your lips, hands brushing away a few strands of hair that danced in the wind.

‘’You’re not very inconspicuous, dear,’’ you called out, only to be greeted by a pair of strong arms wrapping around your shoulders and lips pressed against your temple.

‘’Yeah, well once you’ve been married for 19 years, you tend to abandon being inconspicuous,’’ Massimo retorted, coaxing a playful scoff from you. You had some faded love bites from the other night that would greatly argue against that sentiment. The two of you had gotten older, but the sexual appetite seemingly only increased with age. You glanced down at the ring that had been resting on your left hand, the sparkle of the diamond would always draw attention in the sunlight. The two of you rested in comfortable silence, laying your head against his shoulder as you both watched the way the sun bounced off the turquoise waves.

‘’Your son is bringing a girl home for dinner tonight,’’ you murmured.

‘’I just got off the phone with him, apparently it’s serious,’’ Massimo responded, a shadow of a smirk on his face and playful wiggle of his dark brows led you to playfully swat at his chest.

‘’Be nice, he’s nervous. I’m sure you can attempt to remember when we were young and you’d get flustered around me.’’

‘’Remember? Principessa, to this day you still take my breath away.’’

‘’Yes because whenever I try to cook the house nearly always bursts into flames,’’ you joked, earning a deep laugh from your husband, his chest vibrating against the side of your face.

‘’Y/d/n will be late again, I’m sure. She got that trait from you,’’ you added, squealing as he jokingly pinched your thigh.

‘’I wasn’t the one who took her sweet time getting to the hospital.’’

You grinned at the memory. So much laughter. So many wonderful moments. A stark contrast as to how the two of you had met. Almost comically different from where you two began. Life had just been so easy following the fire, following the move here. Like everything just fell into place the moment you got out of Italy.

Both of your wedding bands glistened in the sun as the sounds of the waves echoed throughout the crisp air.

‘’Are you happy?’’ you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Massimo nodded, his head, knowing that your question did not mean if he was happy simply in this moment.

‘’I’m happy…you happy?’’

Happy. The word you had been chasing and dancing with your whole lives. The word you wanted so desperately to fill your children’s lives with, and you both knew you had succeeded when they thought their parents were a normal, boring middle-aged couple who had met somewhere in Europe and moved to New Zealand for a better life. You succeeded in concealing the past and all of its’ demons. A pandora’s box of secrets and violence, locked away but never forgotten. You both raised wonderful children who were beginning to take on the world and make it their own. The two of you were so beautiful together, Massimo was such a devoted father.

He was your best friend; you had realized at some point early on in your marriage. Friendship, it turned out, had been the basis for your relationship. Not lust. Not greed. Not vengeance. Friendship. The two of you had been given a life of lies and crime at birth, but in one another found something worth growing old for and worth leaving it all behind.

Both of you defeated the odds and made a home for yourselves and a blissful marriage filled with love and passion and patience. How could you simply limit what you were feeling to just one simple, but powerful word? ‘’Happy.’’ Neither of you were all that experienced in happiness, prior to having your children of course. Or truth. Or normalcy.

You analyzed Massimo’s face as he broke his gaze from the ocean to stare down at you. The face you woke up next to every morning and kissed before falling asleep at night. The one person who loved you without question as equitably as you loved them. Your Massimo. A soft smile found its’ way back home to your face as you leaned in to meet your husband in a kiss. Maybe, just for him, you could allow yourself to ease into the simple, powerful world.

‘’I’m happy.’’

And I think you should know
That I won’t let it go

Y/d/n sighed as she made her way down the halls, ready to check out for the day. Untying her thick hair from the tight pony tail, she sighed and rubbed at the stiffness in her neck. She knew her parents would tease her relentlessly about her ‘’impeccable timing’’ at the dinner table later on. She still had to change clothes and shoes and at least try to look presentable for her brother and his new beau. She groaned, readying herself for the night ahead.

‘’Alessia?’’ a soft-spoken voice called out, making her tense up and twirl around with furrowed brows. Was one of her mother’s friends here?

‘’Ma’am?’’ she questioned, entering the room of one of the many residents. An elderly woman, probably entering her mid-eighties sat in a bed, her white hair pulled into a tight bun.

‘’A-Alessia? Is it you?’’ her meek voice called out, hands shakily reaching towards her.

‘’No ma’am, I’m y/d/n,’’ she smiled down at the woman, taking one of her hands with both of her own in an attempt to comfort her.

‘’Y-you look so familiar,’’ the old woman whispered, eyes squinting only slightly as she gazed into the young woman’s eyes. ‘’You remind me so much…I-I lost her, I don’t know where she went,’’ her sad eyes conveyed years of pain. Honey brown eyes, similar to her own shiny with unshed tears.

Y/d/n smiled sadly, stroking the older woman’s hands and listening with an empathetic ear. Alessia wasn’t a common name around these parts, which left y/d/n feeling confused and slightly unsettled as she comforted the elderly woman who, although never having met her, felt. . .different. As though she had known her without knowing her.

‘’Who did you lose?’’

‘’My daughter…she was so tiny. Little pea.’’

The older woman sighed, shaking her head and laying back down into the crisp white sheets, running a shaky hand down her face as she collected her thoughts.

‘’If you’d like, I can come by tomorrow and visit you? I’d love to be friends and get to know you more,’’ y/d/n offered, earning a small smile from the woman.

‘’Thank you, Alessia.’’

‘’My name is y/d/n, ma’am.’’ The older woman smiled, settling back into her bed before resting her eyes, trying to dismiss a feeling of uncertainty brewing in the back of her mind.

‘’My name is Isabella.’’

Y/d/n smiled kindly, nodding her head as she tried to search the archives of her young mind. Who was she? Why did she look so familiar?

‘’I’ll be back tomorrow, Isabella.’’

The elder woman offered a sad smile, but a spark of hope illuminated her honey brown eyes.

‘’You will?’’

She was already halfway out of the room, turning back to give a grin that showcased the dimple on the left-hand side of her cheek.

‘’For you, a thousand times over.’’

It was like a million times
I’m singing a lullaby
And I think you should know
That I won’t let it go

THE END…

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Pairing: Massimo Torricelli x Reader

 Warning(s): language, angst, violence, major character death.

 Summary: Like fire, tensions come to a head and the world around you is engulfed in its’ flames. Who will become the phoenix and who will be buried in the ashes?

 A/N: There will be one or two more chapters before this story concludes! Thank you! Also if you messaged me about being added to the Taglist, please send me another message because Tumblr deleted any messages I had saved!

 PART ONEPART TWOPART THREEPART FOURPART FIVEPART SIXPART SEVENPART EIGHT PART TEN EPILOGUE

He was absolutely unhinged, pacing back and forth as his words jumbled together. He was in a manic state as he snarled and cursed and spat. Like a rabid dog, spittle and animalistic grunts erupted from his throat. The gun would shift from being aimed at your stomach and then carelessly being waved around in the air. He alternated from discussing Massimo, your mother, your birth parents, and the child you were carrying.

‘’You’re a filthy fucking whore. Just like the worthless bitches I deal with every day. Just like your whore of a mother and the woman I took you from,’’ he spat, eyes flickering around madly.

You remained silent, for as long as he was livid and had the gun in his possession, it would be pushing the envelope too far if you provoked him.

‘’She left me. Can you believe that? SHE left ME! The moment she found out where I found you, she tried running. So I had to…I-I had to,’’ his fuming tone subsided as his thoughts trailed off. He paused, eyes searching the floors for an invisible variable.

‘’She tried taking you, tried running. Had she not been so weak she may have…faster…the bullet is always faster,’’ he chuckled, the hairs on your arms and the back of your neck stood stiff as he began laughing to himself as if a third party had made a joke. But that was the most harrowing fact of the matter. It was just you and him as he laughed over the details of how he murdered his wife for attempting to do what was right. For attempting to secure your freedom and hers’ before the mafia life had corrupted you the way it had her husband.

‘’And that other whore…Massimo’s first whore,’’ he panted between giggles. His hand that wasn’t holding the gun stretched out as if to mirror an explosion in the palm of his hand.

‘’She had no chance the moment Domenico told me their coordinates. She begged and screamed, not even for her life. F or her child’s. Just like my wife, just like the woman who birthed you. I thought for a moment about selling her off to a particularly violent ring in Serbia. But I don’t know what came over me, one minute I was standing there as this bitch wailed, the next I’m watching her burst into flames. It’s interesting, isn’t it? What lengths a mother would go to for her child?’’ his attention turned back to you, eyeing the nearly invisible bump of your lower abdomen.

You were shaking. Whether in fear or in disgust; you couldn’t even distinguish the two at this point. All you thought about was how much you hated this man. How you wanted to watch him suffer and watch the light leave his eyes. You wanted him eradicated from the face of the Earth for you, for your unborn child, for all of the women whose lives he ruined, and for your father. The glass that previously contained your orange juice flew from your hands like a meteor hurtling towards an unsuspecting planet. The way the man you once called ‘’father’’ screeched as the glass broke out into hundreds of shards when coming into contact with his face was chilling, absolutely chilling. Your body quickly fell to the floor as his finger instinctively began firing out shots in a blind fit of rage. You gasped when one bullet ricocheted off your vanity mirror and bounced to the floor, right beside your right shoulder.

When you glanced up you tensed. You would be lying if you had said the scene before you didn’t strike fear into your heart. Blood coated his face, dripping down onto his chest and forever staining that white suit of his. One of his eyes was shut tight as blood, tears, and another fluid which you could only guess to be vitreous gel seeped from the wound. Blinded. He aimed once more, only for his stomach to fall when the distinctive ‘’click’’ of an empty chamber echoed amongst the walls. From the distance you could hear the guards racing up the eastern staircase to see what the commotion was about.

Without hesitating you charged at him, landing a powerful kick to his left knee and didn’t even cringe when the sickening crunch shortly followed as he collapsed to the floor in agony. You panted, quickly grabbing the steel poker from the fireplace as well as a mop the maids had left as a makeshift barrier to temporarily keep the guards out.

Your father, through his screams and gasps of excruciating pain, thrashed on the floor like a fish clinging onto life. Through your own labored breathing, you kept your attention on him as you knelt to the ground beside him.

‘’You fucking cunt. You won’t make it out of here alive. You and that fucking bastard in your belly will burn,’’ he spat, blood and saliva falling to your cheek. He broke out into maniacal laughter, looking like the devil himself.

You brought one shaky hand to your face, wiping off his blood and spittle before reaching into his pant pocket before acquiring what you were looking for. His laughter stopped when his one good eye recognized what you were holding.

‘’No, you will. Your legacy will burn along with you. This estate, your men. It all ends with you,’’ you coldly responded before you began pouring the concoction of cleaning materials over his body, nearly waterboarding him in the process. The odor of the bleach quickly enveloped the room. The voices of his guards steadily grew louder as their footsteps drew nearer.

You rose from the floor, ensuring every bottle of bleach, spray, and scented oils was dumped onto him before clutching his lighter. You could vaguely hear him cursing you, cursing your child, cursing Massimo and everything under the sun as he desperately moved around the floor like some sort of slug.

‘’I’ll see you in Hell!’’ he roared, the flame easily taking hold of one of his drenched arms and rapidly growing thereafter. The entire room illuminated into a burnt orange glow as smoke quickly began flooding it.

‘’You will, but you be sure to tell them who put you there,’’ you responded, eyes reflecting the haze as you watched him burn. You didn’t even blink as the smell of charred flesh filled your nostrils. And as he burned, you prayed with all your might that he thought of the pregnant woman he burned in the backseat of a limo two years ago.

The sound of the door banging broke your trance as you grabbed the steel poker from the door, readying yourself as the fire quickly became fiercer. You turned on the gas for the fireplace, mentally prepping yourself for what was to come. The flames lapped at your curtains and you knew it would only be seconds before the room would explode into a wildfire.

Domenico nervously bounced his leg, repeatedly calling the y/l/n estate to no avail. In the background, Massimo gathered with his men as well as his cousins and their men, locating the weak spots of your family’s estate. Taking out the guards would be an easy enough feat, but securing your safety and drawing you away from your father while dodging snipers and bodyguards was another matter. Massimo ran a hand down his jaw as his closest cousin, Luca, set a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

‘’It’s going to work, primo. We’re going to get her back.’’

Domenico clenched his jaw, cursing your father as his private line went directly to voicemail. He had to think fast, he had to play his cards right if he had any hopes of getting out of this alive.

‘’Domenico.’’

He jumped, turning to meet Massimo’s confused gaze.

‘’Sorry, personal issues,’’ Domenico smiled anxiously, quickly shoving his phone back into his pant pocket. Massimo’s deep eyes felt like they were seeing right through Domenico. As if he could see right into his soul and uncover every lie and betrayal with one glance.

‘’I’ll ride with you,’’ Massimo muttered, tightening his bullet proof vest and ensuring he had a full chamber.

‘’Great.’’

The two exited the mansion, hurrying alongside a dozen of the most ruthless and well-known assassins within the Torricelli family. Domenico suppressed a gulp when he caught Luca loading a Beretta with such ease. With shaky hands, not unseen by Massimo, he opened the car door for his lifelong friend and boss and promptly took the driver’s seat. Domenico felt Massimo’s gaze in the rearview mirror as he started the car, eyes moving around wildly while attempting to give the impression that all was well.

‘’You seem tense, Domenico,’’ Massimo noted. His voice was unnervingly calm.

‘’What makes you say that?’’ Domenico laughed it off, foot still on the break and hand still on the stick.

Massimo shrugged, looking out the window onto the pastures.

‘’Did she say anything when you took her back?’’ he continued with his jaw clenched. Domenico tapped at the stick, wracking his brain around for any possible options.

‘’Did she? Did her father? Did your banksmen gasp when they saw the two million wired to your account the day she left?’’

Domenico’s eyes widened in sheer terror, finally meeting Massimo through the mirror. His mouth opened and closed but the only sound that could come out were tiny, high-pitched gasps.

‘’Why did you do it?’’ Massimo sighed, tired and the hurt clearly evident on his chiseled face. With a gulp, Domenico felt his entire body shake.

‘’Mas…it was…it was just business.’’

Massimo nodded, sniffing the air as he bit his bottom lip in an almost nonchalant manner. ‘’Not to me.’’

Massimo lunged forward, the wire wrapped tightly around Domenico’s throat as he thrashed around, kicking at the windshield, the steering wheel, anything he could. He gagged and gasped, trying to claw at Massimo’s face. Massimo didn’t let up, using all of his might to pull tighter while dodging Domenico’s flailing fists.

‘’It was never business! Not when they burned Laura alive! Not when they caved Mario’s face in!” Massimo roared to the point the windows of the car shook and vibrated. All the while Domenico squealed and huffed as his lungs felt as though they were burning to a crisp. His usual olive skin rapidly turned a bright purple as he shook violently against the driver’s seat. ‘’Mario began the investigation the day Laura died, I didn’t want to believe him,’’ Massimo growled, fresh tears blurring his vision. ‘’But he was always right.’’

‘’It wasn’t business when you involved Y/n,’’ he hissed lowly in the same manner a cobra would before going in for the kill. Massimo kept grunting, pulling and yanking until finally the thrashing and gasping stopped. Domenico laid rigid against the leather seats, limbs and face contorted in a gruesome manner as Luca then opened the driver’s door and tossed the body onto the graveled driveway. He took the previously occupied seat and began driving away. Massimo sighed, fixing his hair and undoing the safety of his gun. He inhaled, exhaled, and repeated the action to recollect his thoughts. He prayed you were unharmed, that you wouldn’t meet the same fate as so many before you. He was well-accustomed to loss at this point, but he knew he could not go on without you. Because if any harm had come to you, he’d set the whole world on fire and bury himself beneath the ashes.

Taking out the two guards had not been an easy task, the wound on your shoulder where the bullet had nearly gone straight through had been proof of that. But you had done it, you were covered in their blood from when you had shot one and bludgeoned the other with the fireplace poker, but you were alive. The blood soaked through your once ivory nightgown and matted your hair. ‘’Please just hold on a bit longer,’’ you prayed, hand over your stomach as you crept through the halls, clutching the rifle that had only moments prior belonged to an ill-fated guard. You could hear men frantically yelling throughout the halls as you hid among the shadows. The flames had quickly spread from your room throughout numerous others and a veil of black and gray smoke began wafting through the mansion. One of the cooks from below had been so startled by all of the commotion that he had fled, the wine used to sauté the chicken meant to be tonight’s dinner had been forgotten and led to a second fire burning downstairs. Thus, your childhood home had steadily, yet increasingly became eaten away by the parasitic flames.

‘’Sir we have numerous cars approaching the estate.’’

‘’I have eyes on the tar-‘’

Silence. The walkie talkie on the security detail went dead silent. Then a familiar sound of bullets raining down outside. You didn’t even care as random staff ran frantically up and down the halls, too terrified to approach the blood-soaked woman who eerily walked through the orange glow of the burning mansion among the blackened air with a hauntingly calm aura. You recall forgetting to breathe every now and then in a subconscious effort to keep as much ash and smoke out of your lungs. You briefly remember a guard staring at you in shock and perhaps even rage before you shot him dead, the bullet piercing his left cheek. You didn’t even pay attention to the barrage of bullets and yelling outside, the crackle and hissing of the flames quickly becoming louder by the second.

Whatever was happening outside, bullets managed to pierce through some of the windows of the mansion, the flames quickly growing in size and in fury. You knew you had to get out, and you had to get out this instant unless you would be swallowed alive by the fire. You you found yourself slowly coming out of your daze, out of the traumatic events unfolding and revealed before you. You took a sharp right, maneuvering amongst the broken glass, ashes, and bullets that littered the steps. Your fists clenched, jaw tight as the hairs on your arms and neck stood up as you felt eyes on you. Raising the rifle promptly, shocked at how easily you were prepared to take another life, you let out a gasp as you met deep brown eyes.  

Massimo could’ve sworn he was dreaming, or that he died and woke up in hell. He remembered the assault on your father’s estate, his cousins and loyal men effectively taking out the security one by one. When he caught whiff of the smoke and the sight of the angry red and orange flames, he threw caution to the wind and barged into the kitchen door that had been tucked away on the side of the house. He hissed when the influx of air had breathed life into the flames’ chest, running out of the inferno that had been formally the kitchen and great dining hall.

‘’Y/N!’’ he screamed, eyes squinted due to the smoke that clouded his vision.

His nostrils and lungs stung from the unbearable smell. He stalked the burning building, ignoring the maids and cooks who were in hysterics and searching for a way out. He didn’t care, only firing once at a guard who stepped into his line of vision.

He found himself by the front entrance of the estate, not yet charred by the approaching flames, but certainly torn apart by the attack and the ashes that circulated in the air. A body or two littered the background. He allowed the thick air to fill his lungs, only for it to leave when he looked up the grand staircase.

‘’Massimo…’’

You looked like some sort of war goddess. A Valkyrie sent to deliver him home. A siren calling out his name. Amongst the rubble and bloodshed, among the dead and the living. He didn’t care. All he saw was you. You froze, the rifle falling to your side and slipping from your grasp onto the steps as your mouth slightly opened. Massimo breathed heavily, the tears smearing the blood splatter and ash from his cheekbones.

‘’Principessa,’’ he practically whimpered.

‘’You came back,’’ you whispered, half to yourself and half to the bloodied man standing before you.

He nodded, his legs carrying him towards the stairs as you slowly made your way down, still in shock. Like the very foundations around you, the world faded away. There was no logic, no violence, no loss. Only love. Even as he held you in his warm embrace, even as you both cried and gently caressed each other, nothing else mattered other than the man standing before you. His thumbs wiped away your tears and smeared the blood on your face in the process. Your hands cradled the sides of his chiseled features. Whimpers and sighs passing between both of your lips.

‘’You’re ok…you’re ok, principessa… you’re ok’’ he kept repeating, holding you and kissing you, eyes glazed over with tears as he noticed your shoulder that the bullet had grazed. He gulped, choking on his words as you kept reassuring him.

‘’You’re ok,’’ you couldn’t tell if Massimo was reassuring you or himself or asking you, but you nodded up at him, offering a smile through your tears as he held you close to him. Your hand drifted to your stomach. His body tensed as his eyes tore away from you to look at where your hand pressed.

‘’We. We’re ok,’’ you kept nodding, taking his hand and pressing it to your tiny bump.

His jaw fell slack as his eyes stared down. He hadn’t known. He hadn’t known about the baby and sent you away. Had he known, he would never have let you out of his sight. But he loved you, loved you enough to let you go to protect you. Loved you enough to show you the most vulnerable parts of himself, the parts he feared were too gruesome to love. And he wanted nothing more than to have this moment engraved into his memories and to live his life with you.

‘’I’m tired of pretending that I do not love you, because I do. I’m tired of running. I’m so tired of running,’’ you let the words fall from your lips, finding it extremely freeing.

He finally tore his eyes off your abdomen, meeting your eyes as the hand that was not pressed against your small bump cradled the side of your face. You leaned in further against his touch.

‘’Then stay.’’

You nodded and let the tears fall freely as your lips met in a passionate kiss. You clutched at his vest, crying tears of relief and complete happiness as he led you out of the only home you had ever known. His thick arms clutched you to his chest, shielding your face from the ashes and smoke as you inhaled his scent. The sunshine blinded you as you left the confines of your birdcage, being placed into a truck with Massimo still clutching you and looking you over for injuries. He sighed, the exhaustion and relief evident in his eyes as he and his men began heading out. You refused to look back as the estate burned to the ground, only an exoskeleton of brick and steel would eventually remain, like the bones of a great beast.

But you didn’t look back, you couldn’t. Your eyes gently closed as your face rested against Massimo’s chest, his hand holding yours as if you would disappear if he let go. You felt him press a kiss to your temple as his arm wrapped around your body, his hand protectively covering your bump as he allowed himself to take it all in. As the vehicle began driving past the pastures where you would ride horses, past the cliffs and ocean where you had spent endless days as a child and where you had your first kiss, the sun felt like a blanket over your bodies in the backseat. A sigh escaped Massimo as his body also began to relax once he was able to comprehend that it was over. That he had found you and you were both now free. The dirt road gently rocked you both to sleep, hands still tangled together. Leaving the past behind, heading towards your tomorrow.

 ‘’I love you, principessa,’’ Massimo whispered aloud. And to himself, before sleep overcame him he gave thanks to his father, Mario, and Laura for watching over the two of you today. And he would’ve liked to think that all three were finally at peace, smiling as they headed towards their own tomorrows as the two of you headed towards yours’.

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Pairing: Massimo Torricelli x Reader

Warning(s): language, angst, violence, mentions of miscarriage, kidnapping, depression.

Summary: Finally, everything is revealed. The reader’s past, as well as the truth about your parentage and your secret is finally unveiled during a fatal and long overdue sit down with your father.

A/N: This is a very important chapter so I hope you enjoy! Only a few more chapters before this series is finished!

 Part OnePart TwoPart ThreePart FourPart FivePart SixPart Seven Part Nine Part Ten Epilogue

You didn’t keep track of time in the days that you had spent locked away in your room. You avoided mirrors entirely, having no desire to look at the dark circles that embedded themselves under your eyes or the way your eyes had lost any sort of light in them. Your lips were chapped, but the headaches had ceased a day or two ago. You were sure that you had cried yourself out the day Massimo had sent you away, that there were no longer any tears that your weak body could muster. A part of you felt incredibly selfish, given your condition, but you couldn’t think clearly. Every waking moment was spent thinking about Massimo. You weren’t eating nearly enough nor drinking enough water to fuel your body. Sleep evaded you, though you didn’t desire that either. All you really could think about was how you would never see the man you loved again.

‘’Honey?’’ your father’s throaty voice called from behind you as you sat against the large window of your room.

Guards were stationed everywhere, at least two of them always present at your door. In short, running away or even jumping out your balcony simply weren’t options. Your hand twitched at the sound of your father’s footsteps, sucking in a deep breath when his meaty hand gently clasped your shoulder.

‘’Honey, the maids have been telling me that you haven’t been eating much,’’ the way his voice gave the illusion of genuine concern baffled you. The way this man, this monster, who kidnapped and sold thousands if not millions of women and children could go to sleep every night and be free of guilt stunned you. How easily he could attempt to continue this charade of being the loving, doting father that you had foolishly believed all of these years filled your insides with revulsion.

‘’I…I’m not hungry,’’ you croaked, your throat dry as a tendril of your hair (which that itself seemed to lose its’ shine) fell in front of your face.

Your father reached out to brush it away, stopping short when he noticed the way you cowered and flinched. He let out a sigh of frustration, turning his attention to the door.

‘’Leave my daughter and I alone, we have much to discuss,’’ he barked at the guards, who dutifully did as their boss ordered and went on their merry ways.

A lavishly hand carved wooden chair scraped along the tiled floors as your father took his seat a few feet in front of you. He leaned forward, creasing his expensive suit and the way his gold Rolex glistened caught your attention for a brief moment.

‘’Y/n, what happened to you?’’

You barked out a laugh, shaking your head as your hand ran itself through your locks. ‘’You cannot be serious,’’ you chuckled,  your father’s bushy brows pinching together in both confusion and dwindling patience.

‘’As the plague,’’ his tone took on a more serious bite, causing your faux grin to melt away and be replaced with cold, angry eyes. Those terrible eyes. You couldn’t help but think those terrible eyes had been the last thing many people had looked into before they died.

‘’My entire life has been a lie. Everything I thought you stood for, father, has been a lie,’’ you shifted your weight to look him dead in the eye. His thumbs nervously twitched.

‘’You had a great childhood,’’ he tried deflecting. ‘’You never wanted for anything.’’

‘’At what cost, father?! Human lives?? Innocent people everyday suffer because of you, because of this family! Families torn apart, lives ruined. And you didn’t even care!’’ you snarled, arms waving around wildly.

‘’I did what I had to in order to ensure we were on top! It’s time you grew up and knew what reality consists of, young lady! It is survival of the fittest, eat or be eaten, kill or be killed!’’ he spat, hands doing all sorts of manic gestures. You scoffed, shaking your head.

‘’I have been kidnapped, used as leverage, nearly assaulted in an alleyway, beaten and nearly shot by YOUR men. Don’t you dare sit there and attempt to lecture me about reality or the real world. I’ve SEEN the real world, and it is an ugly, decrepit, dark place because of men like you,’’ you hissed. For a split second you swore you saw your father cower back from your words. At the very least he was unnerved by your changed personality. You were no longer the innocent child calling him excitedly about your acceptance letter to Harvard, nor the sweet little girl picking apples in the orchard. You’ve changed into something else entirely.

‘’And you think Massimo Torricelli is any different?’’ his voice terrifyingly composed and stoic.

You were at a loss for words as you sat back into your chair. You gazed at the bronze door handle just yards away. ‘’I know he’s different.’’

Your father laughed, shaking his head at you in the same manner he would when you were young and had said something out of childhood innocence. It made your blood boil.

‘’Now I am convinced you truly live in a fantasy, y/n,’’ he chuckled, taunting you. Baiting you.

You leaned forward in your chair, forearms resting on your knees as you met his cold gaze.

‘’So set me straight.’’

He arched a brow, any implication of humor immediately evaporated from his face. ‘’About?’’

‘’Everything. Laura, Mario, my mother, everyone and everything. Set me straight. Release me,’’ you demanded without blinking. He gulped at the mention of your mother, rubbing his hands on his pants and looking down at the family ring.

‘’No, look at me. I want you to look at me as I finally hear the truth in your own words,’’ you ordered. He clenched his jaw, but did as you wished. Your gaze softened only slightly as you increasingly grew desperate.

‘’I need you to release me.’’

He sighed, glancing once more at the ground before meeting your gaze.

‘’Twenty-seven years ago…your mother and I had been married for nearly ten years. Seven…seven miscarriages and one stillbirth later and we still had no children. You know as well as I do that in this life, a family needs a legacy. Children are that legacy. Without them, the family dies out and leaves its’ head vulnerable.’’

‘’We had visited numerous doctors from all over the world. The words ‘sterile’, ‘hostile womb’, ‘low chance of conception’ quickly became accustomed to us. It took a heavy toll on her. She lost weight, her smile, even some hair and above all she lost the will to live. And the family became weaker because of my inability to produce an heir to the y/l/n throne. At this point I had been in the business for quite some time. I had done everything my father and grandfather failed to do; create an empire. I succeeded in establishing my throne, but I had failed miserably at producing an heir. One day, as I was overseeing normal operations, I saw something.

This woman, a spitting image of your own mother in her youth screamed wildly. Had her health not deteriorated from the depression and numerous treatments, I could’ve sworn it was my loving wife, but no this woman was fiercer, younger. The wails that erupted from her mouth were inhuman, like a fox caught in a trap or a mother wolf crying to the moon. She caused a great disturbance that day, work seemingly ceased as I made my way over to see what the commotion was about. I gripped her arm and saw she was carrying a small bundle tucked under her breast. The men and I finally ripped it from her and there you were…this small, beautiful child. Truly beautiful. Too beautiful to be in the hands of clients and sold off like livestock. It made sense why this woman fought tooth and nail to keep you two together; refusing to be separated and sold off. She kept screaming for her husband, and she kept wailing your name over and over as I took you. She was sent away…somewhere far down South…Australia or New Zealand rather. And from then on you were our little y/n.’’

You froze in your chair, mouth dry as the ground beneath your feet crumbled right from under you. One could hear a pen drop at the silence that plagued the room.

‘’W-what was my name?’’ was all you could think to ask. Somewhere, somehow in the deepest part of you, you knew. The name was on the tip of your tongue, yet you prayed that you were wrong. But you knew. You knew. He pondered a second or two, searching the archives of his mind before he finally answered:

‘’Alessia.’’

Your father rushed to your side as you collapsed onto your knees, sobbing and wheezing for air. ‘’Y/n! Y/N breathe!’’ he yelled, holding you to his chest as you let out a blood curdling scream, echoing off the walls and throughout the mansion. With everything in you, you screamed. You clawed, kicked, pounded your fists on any surface within your proximity. Begged. Begged to make it stop. Begged for him to tell you that he lied. That it wasn’t true. That he hadn’t ripped you from your birth mother’s arms and ripped away your identity. That you were y/n y/l/n, daughter of y/f/n and y/m/n. But he never did. He never would. And you were forced to face the dark, haunting reality of your tragic past.

Your name was not your name. Your home was not your home. Your mother had not been your mother. And your father was not your father. It had been Mario all along. So close, yet now forever out of reach. How cruel it had been.

Hours must have passed. You weren’t sure how you ended up back in your bed with a towel draped over your forehead, forcibly given water and orange juice. After the maids had assured your father that you had only suffered a panic attack had he dismissed everyone. In their urgency, the maids completely abandoned their cleaning supplies by the door to your father’s annoyance but said nothing and had taken a seat at the foot of your bed.

‘’I am so sorry. Truly y/n,’’ was all he could say, avoiding your eyes.

‘’Don’t. Don’t call me that,’’ you shook your head, tears brimming your eyes.

He huffed, shaking his own head in annoyance. ‘’You have cost me enough trouble as is. Over 80% of my produce is gone. Most of my men, dead! I have to rebuild this family from the ground up. All for your fucking fairytale romance, all because you spread your legs for that fucking bastard!’’ he snarled, finally showing his true colors.

A slight smirk threated to tug at your lips as you saw him begin to unravel, but opted to meet his deadly glare with your own as you sat up. He must’ve noticed this because he took a deep exhale and collected himself, slowly deteriorating into the role of the caring father.

‘’That said, you are ready to begin overlooking things as well. You are still my daughter, still the one to inherit this business. You will work to rebuild, restore, and expand this family’s name. And in time this will all be forgotten,’’ he rose, turning to exit.

‘’You’re wrong.’’

He visibly froze, fists clenching at his sides. He swiftly turned back around to face you.

‘’Y/n,’’ he hissed through a locked jaw.

‘’I told you, that’s not my name. It never was. And I am not going to help you rebuild this fucking family, I’m going to use the foundation of this house brick by brick and stone by stone to build my own funeral pyre if I have to. But I am done. I am done being afraid and scared and lied to. I’m done being a pawn.’’

‘’What makes you so sure you can walk away from this? You think he’s going to save you? That he’s just going to waltz right in here and take you back and you’ll live happily ever after?’’ he scoffed, face turning purple from his rage. You shook your head in disagreement.

‘’I’m saving us,’’ a protective hand placed over your stomach. It took him a moment before it finally sunk in. All the dots became aligned and, for once, it was he who was finally brought to the light of realization. You nodded.

‘’You said it yourself; children are that legacy. Your legacy will die with you while his will live on.’’

‘’You’re…’’

‘’Pregnant.’’

The air went frighteningly cold. He reached into his back pocket and you broke out into a cold sweat. The thudding of your heart beating in your chest was the only noise that seemed to matter. Now or never. He steadily rose his hand, pistol in plain sight and glinting from the evening sun shining through the sheer curtains. Now or never. The slender glass cup that you had drank from rested in your iron grip. Now or never. The abandoned cleaning supplies just feet away from the man holding a gun and aiming at your stomach. Now or never. The sound of his index finger clicking the safety off echoed in your ears as the world seemed to move in slow motion.

‘’If you think this story has a happy ending then you, my dear, haven’t been paying attention.’’

Now or never.

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