That ending was all too bittersweet.
There can’t be a winner, but I’m a defiant bitch and I bite hard. I might be going back, but I’m here for Abbiati anarchy. This was meant to teach me a lesson, but it hasn’t. It’s made me tougher, hardened me and sucked every part of my soul away. If this is what was wanted when I was thrown onto a plane and sent away, then that’s what they’re getting. If not, they should be fucking terrified. I don’t play nice anymore. I’m a new Amelia, and if I don’t like her, no one else fucking will.
Everything stems from a broken heart. I was stupid to believe I would die alive and not by the hands of a broken heart, but Zane calmly took that belief and turned it completely on its head. He didn’t even need to shout or curse; he just had to give up on me. I still replay our last moments and how innocently quiet they were. I left after realizing he had reached a point of no return – the realization of who I really belonged to was always a barrier for us. I just never noticed the destructive tendencies the obligations I held would have. It wasn’t until the shit storm rode in and I found myself abandoned and alone in Italy that my anger toward Zane manifested.
I never listened to my father about how destructive true love was and part of me never will. But I changed my ways, put my heart away, and gave up on thinking of a better chance with Zane. I forgot how to care here; there’s no one who deserves it, so it wasn’t hard just to become a cold morsel at my uncle’s disposal. It led me to take on a task I never thought I would – I just don’t fall in love anymore. I’ve built that one boundary up around me. I like people enough to win them over, but they all know I don’t give a flying fuck who I hurt in this life. I showed them all a fair few times that I know my birthright and I will execute at all means.
It doesn’t mean it was easy for me. Nothing in this life has been easy except loving Zane, but I fought hard to rinse suspicion away that I was a defiant brat. Now, I’m one of the top killers and I do it just to make ends meet.
I don’t know what I’ve become, but when judgment calls, I will look at myself and take whatever punishment is owed.
As my head falls to the side and I look over at movement, I’m reminded of how uneasy I became at letting people in. Except one, that is. I watch the tanned, barely damaged assistant to my uncle cross the courtyard. He’s walking down the steps toward the pool area and I’m mesmerized by the mere sight of him. Lorenzo Mancini – he was my rebound and I became his true love. He has a heart of gold and a rock hard cock, and he makes me a masochist because he’s the pretty, Italian equivalent of Zane fucking Maverick!
But I came here a mess and I thought to myself one thing – if I’m going to be stuck in Italy, I might as well keep myself entertained. What other way do you forget about heartache, betrayal, and hatred than with sex, murder, and sun?
Because that’s all this is to my family – a holiday to get me to kill in true Italian style.
My lesson was to embrace my inner Abbiati without allowing myself to be distracted. Everything I knew was thrown out of the window and I was taught quickly by Alberto that if he saw any hesitation or second thoughts by me, he would punish me like it was raining down hell on Earth. I know what my father was capable of, and Alberto makes any of his previous actions look tame. So I don’t dabble, I don’t test my limits when there’s work involved. Outside of work, that’s another matter altogether. He can deal with my sass and disrespect, but I know when to rein it in.
So, there is no more seduction and a few poisonous drops into a drink. Now, it’s about bloodshed and vengeful manners.
Between watching my family lay down the law on the Amalfi Coast, I’ve kept myself well occupied with Lorenzo Mancini. He might serve as a visual reminder of the man I still heartbreakingly yearn for, but at least he’s someone I can hold when it gets all just a little too lonely out here.