The mansion was dead silent except for the sound of Alessandro's shoes hitting the marble floor.
He had been pacing for the last hour.
Back and forth. Back and forth. Like a caged lion that hadn't eaten in days. His shirt was unbuttoned at the top, sleeves rolled up, hair messy from constantly running his fingers through it.
Bianca sat curled up on the large sofa, still in the same clothes from the mall. Her hands wouldn't stop shaking. She had refused to change, refused to eat, refused to do anything but stare at the floor. The bruise on her temple had turned a nasty purple.
She was utterly traumatized, she had never experienced anything like that in her life.
Matteo stood near the floor-to-ceiling windows, arms crossed, watching his son with worried eyes.
"You're going to wear a hole in the floor, Alessandro," Matteo said calmly.
Alessandro stopped pacing and shot him a dangerous look.
"Don't."
