Chapter 7 Watch Your Tone

After that night, Lucia changed. For the next three days, she barely stepped out of her room aside from meal times. She no longer walked in the garden or went to the study for books. She spent her days sitting by the window of that luxurious yet freezing bedroom, staring blankly at the dull gray sky outside. One evening in the dining room, Lucia was cutting the lamb chop on her plate. The silence in there was suffocating. Alessandro frowned. The silence irritated him in a way he couldn't explain. In the past, even when Lucia was terrified, she would sneak glances at him. Her eyes held fear, resentment, or even a spark of defiance. But now, although she sat right across from him, she felt distant. She felt untouchable, as if she had sealed herself inside a thick shell and shut him out completely. "Is the lamb not to your taste today?" Alessandro asked suddenly, his deep voice slicing through the stillness. Lucia's hands paused for a second. Then, she calmly set down her cutlery and dabbed her lips with a napkin. "No. It's very good. Thank you for the meal," she replied. Her response was polite, distant, and annoyingly flawless. The more composed she was, the more irritated Alessandro felt. He would rather she cry or call him a bastard. It was still better than her sitting there like a soulless husk. "The stable brought in new Andalusian horses yesterday. One of them is a pure white mare with a very gentle temperament. I had her pedigree papers delivered," Alessandro said, remembering that she liked horses. He hoped that mentioning it would at least stir some genuine reaction in her. But Lucia merely nodded lightly and didn't look the least bit surprised or joyful as she said, "Really? That's wonderful." Her voice was flat and emotionless. Alessandro's patience snapped. He slammed his wine glass onto the table. Dark red wine splashed onto the white tablecloth. It looked like dried blood. He wanted to tear that mask off her face. He wanted to force a reaction out of her. Even a pained yelp was better than this. But after taking a deep breath, he suppressed the wrath raging inside him. He pulled an envelope from his suit pocket and tossed it onto the table. "What is this?" Lucia didn't reach for it. She only glanced down. "Next Friday is Mamma's 50th birthday. All the core members of the Rossi family and every prominent figure on Iberny will be attending her birthday banquet," Alessandro said. Lucia's lashes fluttered slightly. She knew exactly what this meant. This was one of the Rossi family's most important social events. As Alessandro's wife, she had to attend the banquet. On top of that, she had to be the perfect Donna. "What do you need me to do?" she asked in a listless voice. "Do what you're supposed to do." Alessandro got up and walked over to stand behind her. As his shadow loomed over Lucia, her body stiffened instinctively. Even so, she forced herself to relax. She felt his warm hand on her nape. His rough fingertips grazed her skin with a dangerous intimacy. He leaned down until his lips almost touched her ear. His voice was low and gravelly as he said, "There will be many eyes on you that night. I want you dressed perfectly. You will hold my arm and smile at everyone. I don't want to hear a single rumor about you being uncivilized." Then, his fingers slid down her neck toward her collarbone, where faint bruises from a few days ago still lingered. Lucia didn't shy away and just lowered her gaze. "I understand. I'll wear the white evening gown. It's Elena's favorite style, isn't it?" Alessandro's hand froze. She had brought up Elena on her own. Not only that, she had mentioned her name so calmly that it was almost cruel. It was as if she were speaking of a stranger. Or maybe she was deliberately reminding him, "Look. I'm so obedient. I'm doing my best to become the woman you want me to be." A sharp, inexplicable pain shot through his heart. He gripped her chin suddenly and forced her to face him. "Don't talk to me in that tone," he warned. His eyes narrowed, glinting with a dangerous light. Lucia tilted her head up to meet his gaze. "I don't understand what you mean, Alessandro. I'm obeying your wishes. You yourself said the only thing about me of any value is my face. So, I intend to use it well. I won't embarrass you." Alessandro stared hard at her, searching for any sign of sarcasm or rebellion. However, he found nothing. She meant every word and was truly turning herself into a tool. For a split second, Alessandro felt a flicker of panic. He seemed to have murdered the living, breathing person that Lucia used to be. "You'd better make sure of that!" he spat. With that, he released her abruptly. His fingertips felt chilled where they had touched her. He straightened up and adjusted his sleeves to hide that fleeting moment of unease. He then said in an even tone, "The designer will bring the gown tomorrow. Rest for the next few days. Get some color back on your face. I don't want anyone thinking I've been mistreating you."