Page 48 of One Savage Union

When he first introduced us, the day after I arrived, Maria was overjoyed and extremely excited to tell me that Mr. Fieri had never had any women here.

Like I should feel special I was chosen to be tied to a monster in every way conceivable because my father doesn’t give a damn.

Any dreams I had of her being the sweet old lady who would help me escape were dashed the moment I was met with her enthusiastic welcome. No one in this house goes against Rocco’s wishes.No one.

“Yes, Maria. I’m up. You may come in.”

She waltzes in carrying two Lululemon shopping bags and a polite smile. The seventy-year-old woman moves with the grace of a swan and the speed of a woman half her age. Every day, she wears her uniform: a sleek black wrap dress with black Louboutin heels. Her silver hair stays pinned in a perfect Chignon, and she runs this house with an iron fist. She’s the ultimate warm demander. Where Rocco rules through fear and intimidation, she maintains the staff’s discipline through mutual respect and high expectations.

“I’m happy to see you looking so energetic this morning. Mr. Rocco has asked that you wear these things for your hike today. I hope they are to your liking.”

I guess this means my husband has returned from wherever he's been the past few days.The bastard.I was hiding from him because whenever he’s close my body acts like a two dollar whore. But I liked knowing he was there. He makes me feel safe. When he left, I felt exposed and empty.

On the other hand, I’ve begged to get out of this lovely prison he calls his home. I’m not excited about a hike, but as long as I’m out of this pretty prison. I’m happy.He listened.

Walking over to her, I kiss her cheek hello, and take the two bags from her. “ I’m sure I will love whatever you’ve picked for me, Maria. I always do.”

“Me!” she scoffs and breaks into a bit of laughter before snatching the bags back to walk over to my bed to methodically lay out each piece of athleisure.

“I do not pick out your clothes, Mrs. Fieri. Mr. Rocco does, and with great care.”

My eyes pop open. “Rocco picks out my clothes!”

I don’t know why that knowledge matters to me or why the idea of me wearing something he chose makes me shiver. I knew he was bossy, and I figured that his telling me what to wear was an extension of his domineering nature. Knowing that he takes time to pick out each garment himself makes me feel foolish. Suddenly, I am frustratingly eager to please him.

“Yes, of course he does. Mr. Fieri takes great care with any and all decisions pertaining to your health and well-being.”

I look for hidden meaning behind Maria’s words, but there isn’t any. She’s talking like what she says is straight facts and nothing more or less.

“If that’s all, Mrs. Fieri, I will go and get started with the rest of my day. I will send breakfast up soon. If you need anything else in the meantime, just let me know.”

After I nod and smile, Maria waves goodbye, and I’m left behind with my handpicked costume for the day.

When he disappeared for a few days, I had no idea where he went. It's not like I could call him since I still don’t have a phone at my disposal. I didn’t want to care that he left me here alone, but I did. I spent the two days reading and moping around like I’d lost my best friend until I snapped myself out of it. Forall I know, the man was fucking the woman he really loves and leaving me to stew under the watchful eyes of my babysitters-the bodyguards.

I’m relieved now that I know he’s back. But if I don’t keep a simmering hatred for my husband, I may fall for him, and that won’t do. Before he left, he promised me he would take me outside, just to get me out of the house. Now he tells me it’s a hike.

I’m not sure whether I should be excited or scared.

Before my kidnapping, I counted walking half a mile from my apartment to campus as exercise, but I'm not in the appropriate physical shape for a hike. But against my better judgment, I’m going because I'm excited to experience the Italian coastline with Rocco. He knows everything about the Amalfi Coast, and through listening to the servants, I learned that he cares deeply about the land. He subsidizes approximately fifty lemon groves across the region to keep them profitable. Amalfi’s younger generation has no desire to keep the massive farms running, and the older generation needs help. Rocco doesn’t want the old ways of farming to die, so he keeps the groves running.

Shit like this keeps me confused about how I feel about him.

No matter how noble his local efforts, I can’t forget to keep my wits about me. This is not the man to fawn over or fall in love with. I’m mad I let my body betray me a few nights ago after dinner.

I never should have fucked him.

It was deliciously good but wrong.

So, so, wrong!

Rocco Fieri is my kidnapper or, at most, a reluctant bodyguard. Husband be damned; if it weren't for my father's blood running through my veins Rocco Fieri wouldn't take two looks at me. I'm convinced of that.

I know nothing of his past or the women he's been with before, but I can guess his type. Model thin, flawless skin, shiny hair, and unparalleled beauty. All the things I am not. It’s clear from his wardrobe and home that he has a distinct aesthetic. He values beautiful things. If how he treats me is any indication, women are simply beautiful things he collects.

Rocco Fieri doesn't take no for an answer, and the power exuding off him is even sexier than his rock-hard abs, Grecian profile, and strokable hair.Women like power.I have no doubt that Alesandro catches more pussy than Seby Zavala in my beloved Comiskey Park.

My marriage is one of convenience, and I’d do well to remember that. Sometimes, I wish he wouldn't be nice at all because it’s too confusing. Other times, I'm grateful for the reprieve.

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