Vincenzo's pov
As I watched her crumble, her confidence shattered like glass, I felt a pang of guilt pierce my chest. Her cries of "no" echoed through the air, a stark contrast to her usual defiant stance. For the first time, I saw her vulnerable, her mask of arrogance slipping away. I had always taken pleasure in her misery, but now, her pitiful state stirred something unexpected within me. Perhaps it was the realization that she, too, was human, capable of feeling the same pain and fear that I had long suppressed. My gaze lingered on her.
"I'll be back shortly," I said, the words slipping out of my mouth out of habit, even though I had no intention of returning anytime soon.
I checked my watch, the ticking of the seconds a reminder of the time I'd already wasted. I had a very important meeting to attend. Shaking off the feeling, I approached the maid waiting patiently in the hallway, her eyes cast downward in a subtle display of deference.
"See that Melissa's dinner is brought up immediately," I instructed my tone firm and commanding.
The maid nodded curtly, her eyes flicking up to meet mine for a brief moment before she hurried off to fulfill my request.
As I stepped into the foyer, the grandfather clock struck midnight, its chimes echoing through the silent house. The maid approached me, her expression worried. "Sir, Melissa had refused to eat her dinner," she whispered, her voice laced with concern.
My heart plummeted, but I masked my concern with a neutral expression, swiftly ascending the stairs as my mind raced with dire possibilities. Upon entering Melissa's room, I was met with a sight that made my breath catch - her fragile form slumped in a chair, her head drooping forward like a flower deprived of sunlight. I walked to her side, lifting her head by her hair. Her eyes fluttered open, red-rimmed and puffy from crying, and a faint yelp escaped her lips as I kept pulling on her hair so her gaze could focus on me.
"How dare you waste food?" I asked, my tone firm.
"Still playing games?" I pressed on but she remained silent, her stare vacant.
" Now you're playing mute, huh!" I asked, a hint of exasperation creeping into my voice.
She stared at me blankly and I forcefully let go of her hair, causing her head to nod forward and then back to its prior position.
As I flipped the switch, the soft blue glow gave way to a harsh white light, illuminating every detail of Melissa's face. The sudden intensity was like a slap, snapping her out of her daze. She yelped, her eyes squinting shut as if to shield themselves from the brilliance. But I held her gaze, my grip on her hair firm, forcing her to confront me. Her eyelids fluttered open, and our eyes locked in a tense standoff. The bright light accentuated the dark circles under her eyes, the redness of her lids, and the pale hue of her skin. I searched her face, trying to read her expression, but it remained a mask of vulnerability.
I dragged a chair closer, the legs scraping against the floor, and positioned it beside her. With a calculated motion, I picked up the plate of macaroni grill, the aroma of which seemed to mock her frailty. My right hand grasped the fork, scooping up a mouthful, while my left hand clamped onto her chin, forcing her jaws apart. She whimpered, a soft, pitiful sound, as I disregarded the pain I'd previously inflicted on her face. Her attempts to turn away were feeble, and her energy was depleted. I shoved the food into her mouth, but she reflexively spat it out, the macaroni landing on the floor with a sickening splat.
"How dare you?" I bellowed, my grip on the fork tightening.
Her silence was a spark to my fury, and I shoved another mouthful of food into her mouth. This time, she retaliated, spitting it onto my face. The pepper stung my eyes, and I clenched my fists, seething. In a flash, I slapped her, the sound echoing through the room. The chair scraped against the floor as she fell, still strapped to it. I glared at her, my anger boiling over, but I couldn't bring myself to care about her well-being. I called for the maid, my voice cold and detached.
"Clean up this mess." I turned on my heel, leaving Melissa strapped to the chair, and walked away to bathe, the sting in my eyes a reminder of her defiance.
As I emerged from the cold shower, I wrapped a towel around my waist, the fabric clinging to my skin. The maid had efficiently cleaned up the mess and departed, leaving me alone with Melissa. She remained on the floor, her fragile form a stark contrast to the turmoil that had unfolded earlier. My gaze fell upon her, and I felt a faint twinge in my chest as I noticed her wincing in silent agony. I strode over to her, my movements deliberate, and grasped the chair, pulling her up with it. She gasped, her eyes fluttering closed as pain shot through her body. I studied her intently, my eyes tracing the contours of her face, the bruise on her cheek, and the tears that still lingered on her lashes. For a moment, our gazes locked, and I sensed a flicker of something unspoken between us.
As if shaking off a spell, I sprang into action, my movements swift and purposeful. I grabbed the first aid box from the bedside table, the lid creaking open as I revealed the neatly organized contents. With gentle precision, I cleaned the wound on her nose and she flinched, a tiny gasp escaping her lips.
After tenderly cleaning and dressing her wounds, I began to loosen the ropes that bound her to the chair. As the restraints fell away, she swayed precariously, her body threatening to collapse. My instincts took over, and I swiftly caught her, my arms encircling her frail form. I gently lowered her back into the chair, my hands lingering on her shoulders for a moment.
"Be careful," I murmured, my voice low and husky, as if the wo
rds were dragged from a place deep within me.