Collapsed from the cold?
All I had done was let the air run in Damiano's private room at the club for half an hour. When I left him, Vittoria was still smiling, murmuring plans with the other associates' women about which bar they'd bleed dry that night.
I opened my mouth to explain. But Damiano's face went indifferent in an instant, and his voice dropped several degrees colder than the room already was.
"Someone get in there and strip that coat off her. Isn't she supposed to be delicate? La principessa, raised on the Family's tribute? Then let her taste how the ones born with nothing learn to survive."
He bent and lifted the fur coat from the floor.
With a gentle touch, he draped it over Vittoria's shoulders, then turned his eyes on me with a contempt colder than any blade.
"You come out when you understand what you did. The doctor swore our son is healthy. Don't imagine that baby buys you out of what's owed."
He swept Vittoria into his arms, and his voice softened, thick with a tenderness he never once spent on me.
"Vittoria, cara, your time of the month, you have to keep warm. Stay right here against me. Let's see who dares complain now."
The moment he sat with her settled in his lap, a knot of his men came toward me, smiling the way soldiers smile when the Don has already given them permission.
I shrank into the corner, clutching my thin nightgown against my body. But no amount of struggle could match the weight of several grown men who did this kind of work for a living.
Seconds later, the thin fabric tore in two.
Cold air pierced my skin at once, seeping into every pore.
They laughed as they stripped the rest away. When they walked back out, they laughed with Damiano like men strolling out of a card game.
"Dio, Damiano, you really know how to live. Your wife's figure, madonna, and not shy at all."
"Grateful you let us take such good care of her."
I was left in nothing but my undergarments, curled on the freezing floor. The last warmth of my skin met the ice beneath me, and the two fought, tearing at my flesh with every movement.
Blistering pain drove straight through me. Raw skin ripped open. Blood seeped out slowly.
Bright red against the glowing white of the freezer floor.
Damiano noticed it. He set Vittoria down gently and stepped forward, his eyes fixed on the widening stain crawling toward his shoes.
Before he could speak, Vittoria rushed over and pressed her hand to the glass, trembling as she took in the blood.
"Please, Alessandra... just admit you were wrong," she pleaded, her voice shaking. "There are so many of Damiano's friends watching. If you don't, he won't be able to let you off easy."
I stared daggers at her.
"Why should I apologize? I saw how comfortable you were under that cold air. You were even making plans with the others to go out drinking that night."
Damiano's gaze flicked toward Vittoria. Something uncertain crossed his eyes.
But before I could finish, Vittoria brought her fingertip to the corner of her lower lip, then slapped herself across the face with a loud crack and dropped to her knees with a dramatic thud.
She seized Damiano's hand and sobbed. "Damiano, I just can't stand to see her suffer like this. If she still won't admit her mistake, then I'll kneel out here in the cold with her."
The instant Vittoria's knees hit the floor, every trace of doubt drained from Damiano's eyes.
He bent quickly to raise her up, and his face twisted with disgust as he turned back to me. His thumb dragged hard across his knuckles.
"Alessandra, you've been spoiled rotten. Vittoria has swallowed your arrogance in silence for years. Now you're plainly in the wrong, and she's still trying to save face for me. Still willing to suffer for your sake."
"You don't deserve her mercy."
"Tonight I'm going to break that pampered temper of yours. If you don't admit you were wrong, don't even dream of walking out of here."
He turned and signaled the men behind him.
"Bring in more ice. Wall her in with it. Pour water over her too. I want her frozen to the very walls."
He hadn't even finished speaking when...
