Elsa

The bed dips and his scent teases my nose. He doesn’t touch me, nor does he speak.

Another few seconds and I crack. “Marcello—”

“Do not speak, Elsa. When I am done speaking you may explain yourself, capisce?”

I press my lips together and wait, feeling like a small child who has disappointed a parent. I don’t like it. Why is he so angry? Why is he humiliating me like this?

"I am not going to explain to you the reason why I am keeping you here, Elsa. I know you are old enough to understand the insecurity you are in as Roberto's heir. I think you know the...