Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 102566 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102566 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
I shake my head.
She sighs. "I didn't, either, but I still took care of some kittens on the property. I don't think papa ever knew how impactful that was. I still feel very out of touch with other people."
"You seem plenty in touch with Adrian," I hiss, unable to stop myself.
Nicoletta's eyes sparkle with silent fire. "So do you. Don't think I haven't noticed."
I look away, so she won't see the tell-tale blush on my cheeks. "Noticed what?"
"How he looks at you. How he looks for excuses to spend time in your company. How important you are to him." She shrugs. "I have a lot of time to myself, so I think about stuff like that. A lot."
"Good for you," I mutter, turning my back to her, so she won't notice how hard I'm blushing. I put down the completed canvas of the rose garden and replace it with a fresh one with Eleanora's help. I refuse to interact with Nicoletta anymore.
A slash of red covers the canvas. I'm sure she'll notice how upset I am, throwing paint on paper like this, but I don't give a damn. Let her. Let her find out Adrian's sleeping with me behind her back. I want her world to crumple just like mine did when Bruno killed my parents and Adrian brought me to this godforsaken place.
I don't paint with a motive in mind. I just slash the paper with strokes of color that speak volumes about my mood. Bright, painfully bright splashes of red, black and white cover the canvas before me. It's a mess. I've never painted like this. Like I need it, like its therapy.
I don't stop until I'm finished. Finally, what feels like hours later, the paintbrush falls from my hand and I stare at the completed painting. It makes no sense. It's a fucking mess. But I feel so much better. As if a weight has lifted off my shoulders.
Breathing a sigh of relief, I tense up again when I feel a hand landing on my shoulder.
Nicoletta is standing next to me, admiring the completed canvas. "You must've felt really angry," she says, her voice soft. "This painting really speaks volumes."
I want to tell her to get her hand off me. I want to tell her to get the fuck lost and never speak to me again. I don't do either of those things. Instead, I turn to face her, my eyes meeting hers.
"I could use a friend around here," Nicoletta goes on with a small smile. "This is a house full of men. We could be each other's allies. We could help each other."
What she's offering is tempting, but how can I ever be friends with someone who's set to marry the man I want for myself. Turning her offer over in my head, I struggle to find a reply. "I don't know if us being friends is very wise," I finally find myself saying. "I don't know if Bruno and Adrian would like it."
She wears a devilish smile as she shrugs, saying, "Who cares. They don't own us."
Maybe they don't own her... but they sure as fuck own me. Still, Nicoletta's offer is tempting. I tell myself I don't have to be her friend. I can just use her for my own advantage. Figure out a way to convince her to help me. Something tells me it won't be hard at all. She seems very lonely.
"I suppose we could try and be friendly," I mutter.
Nicoletta claps her hands with excitement. "Wonderful! I'll try to arrange for us to have breakfast together sometime. Maybe we could even spend some mornings together?"
I shake my head. "Not mornings. I work in Bruno's office in the morning."
"Signore Bernardi?"
I nod.
"He lets you call him Bruno?"
"Well, he never said I could, I just do it," I mutter.
She laughs. "Here I was, thinking I got everyone wrapped around my little finger," Nicoletta muses. "Turns out, you're way ahead of me. I'll see you soon, Marzia. Don't forget. We're friends now." She leaves with her maid.
Eleanora helps me get all my things and we carry them back to my quarters. I didn't even realize how much time had passed since I started painting and my stomach rumbles in expectation of dinner.
Before I can get ready to eat, Eleanora gives me another letter.
My lips form a thin line as I find the blind spot in the room where I can read it without being interrupted. Eyes scanning my brother's words, I find my heart picking up its pace and hammering even harder beneath my rib cage.
My brother wants to save me. He wants me to leave this place, to come live with him and Vitto. He wants to go along with Father's plan of marrying me off to Vitto. And as much as I want to stay loyal to my family, I can't ever see that happening—not now that I've felt all these things for Adrian. I just don't think I could switch. Feelings don't work that way.