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Enzo nodded to his ape. The man threw Alessandra over his shoulder and dumped her unceremoniously on the concrete outside the club. She shivered in the cool night air. Drake’s demands that they return her dress or cloak went unheard. It was another tactic to humiliate her further, leaving her cold and naked on the sidewalk. Drake didn’t have a jacket, but pulled his shirt off and forced it over her head.
The moment they got into the car, Drake put up the privacy screen and turned to his wife. Alessandra broke down. She looked so little, swallowed by his dress shirt, and her hair in disarray. Her swollen lips wobbled as she choked back sobs.
“I’m sorry, bella. I’m so fucking sorry.” He cupped her face in his hands and stroked her tear-soaked cheeks. “I knew he was a fucking prick. I swear I didn’t know he was going to treat you that way. You shouldn’t have been subjected to it.” She didn’t speak or meet his eyes, so he continued, “He was bluffing about the sex tape. It was only said to try and humiliate us into giving him what he wants.”
Still, she remained silent and refused to look at him. Drake’s heart dropped to his stomach, and he felt sick. He had 36 hours to plan his move against Enzo and ensure Alessandra’s safety. He needed more time; once again, it was their greatest enemy.
Alessandra had called to the beast in the early days of their marriage. It remained close to the surface until she tamed it. But now, the beast demanded retribution. He was willing to commit patricide without blinking. Those who hurt his wife would pay with blood.
Drake took several breaths to calm himself; he didn’t want to scare Alessandra further by detonating in the car. He couldn’t get the scene of his wife’s assault out of his head. But were his actions to make her feel better or himself?
The moment they stepped into the penthouse, Alessandra disappeared into her closet and locked herself inside. Drake gave her a few minutes while he texted 9-1-1 to Grant and Jerry.
He poured himself a generous glass of smooth whiskey and swallowed it without tasting the vanilla and tobacco notes. It failed to give him the burn he craved, and he threw the crystal tumbler against the wall. It shattered into tiny pieces like his soul, but it still wasn’t enough. Drake now saw the cathartics of destroying his office from Alessandra’s side.
A desire stronger than destroying shit overcame Drake. He needed Alessandra as much as she needed him. He shouldn’t have left her alone. He quickly made his way to the closet.
Thudding and crashing sounds could be heard inside. Drake tried the handle, but it was locked. He pounded on the door and called Alessandra’s name. When she failed to answer, he rushed to the kitchen and grabbed a metal skewer. The simple lock popped open.
Alessandra had torn through the closet like a tornado. Several delicate items were in tatters. Her vanity was knocked over. She’d scrawled self-deprecating words in lipstick on the mirror. Drake had to shut this shit down.
“Does it make you feel good to destroy shit, Alessandra? Let me know so I can open another credit card to pay for your temper tantrums.” He steeled himself to face her ire.
When she flew into his arms sobbing, his heart broke. There were too many tears. His proud peacock needed light to shine. No matter what, he would find a place for her to do that.
“My life is ruined. Don’t you understand that? It’s either I lose you, or I lose my brother.”
“You lost him anyway, Alessandra. Marcello made his choices. I told you one day he would show his true colors. And I told you going to Enzo was a mistake you’d regret.”
She pushed away from Drake and slapped him, screaming, “Go to fucking hell!”
“Bella, the devil is already raking my soul over the deepest pits of brimstone. Nothing you can say or do will hurt me,” he replied honestly.
“So this is my fault now?” she screeched.
Drake tried to grab her, but she evaded him. “I’m not blaming you, Alessandra. We had no idea what would happen by going into that meeting.”
“You’re damn right it’s not my fault. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s yours. You lived with and worked for him for six years, right? You should’ve had an inkling he’d pull something like that.”
“Wow, and here I thought you loved me. What a fucking fool I was. Go ahead, cagna. Anything else you’ve been holding back?” he asked, provoking her further.
“Don’t you dare twist this on me, Drago Prazza.”
“You better watch your fucking mouth, Alessandra, before I make you swallow my cum and then clean it out with soap.”
But she didn’t respond to his last barb. She continued tearing through the closet. Needling her hadn’t worked, so he switched tactics.
“What are you looking for?” he asked.
“My meds. Did you take them?”
“Of course not. Would you like help looking?” he offered. There was no way she’d find anything in the wreckage she caused.
“Please help me, Drake.” Her lip wobbled as she spoke.
Drake sighed as he surveyed the mess again, wondering where the most likely place to start would be. Her bureau drawers were upended, and their contents were strewn all over. Drake decided to start there. He picked up, sorted, and folded clothes before placing them back in their respective drawers.
Most of Alessandra’s compact makeup was shattered and needed to be thrown away, along with most of the silk and lacy underwear.
