Owned By Massimo

Chapter 12-What The Hell?

Massimo's POV

I stepped through the front door of my house, the heavy wood slamming shut behind me with a sound that matched the storm raging in my chest. Blood still stained my shirt from the warehouse, and the metallic smell clung to me like a second skin. My mind was a battlefield…thoughts of that girl, the phone revelation, and the pathetic screams of those men all crashing together. I needed control. I needed to deal with her.

“Don! Don!”

The high-pitched, panicked voice cut through the hallway like a knife. The maid Lara rushed toward me from the side corridor, her face pale and twisted with fear. Her hands twisted nervously in her apron, and she looked like she might pass out any second.

Seeing her only pissed me off more. I was already on edge, and her frantic energy made my blood boil hotter.

Her footsteps were hurried and uneven on the marble floor, each one grating against my already frayed nerves like nails on a chalkboard. Fear rolled off her in thick, choking waves, feeding the monster inside me. Servants like her knew better than to approach me in this state, yet here she was, trembling like a leaf in a hurricane.

“What the f**k is it?” I snapped, my voice low and dangerous. I didn’t have time for whatever household drama she was bringing.

She stopped a few feet away, eyes wide. “Don, the woman you brought home…she…” Lara pointed upstairs, the words seeming too heavy for her to push out fully.

I glared at her, impatience flaring. “Speak. Don’t f*****g waste my time.”

She nodded quickly, her hands fidgeting faster on the apron. “She went into the forbidden part of the estate. She’s in the room you warned us never to enter.”

Something inside me snapped. Boiling rage flooded my veins like lava. It surged through every muscle, tightening them until it felt like a coiled spring ready to unleash hell. That room. The one place in this entire house that was completely off-limits. The one place filled with ghosts I wanted buried forever.

Images I’d tried to forget clawed their way up…canvases covered in vibrant strokes that once held my soul, now slashed and ruined by my own hands in moments of unbearable grief. The dust, the silence, the scent of oil paint. No one was allowed to disturb that tomb. Not ever.

Lara kept talking fast, like she was scared I’d blame her. “Don, I swear I warned her! I told her not to go up there, but she just kept going and didn’t listen to me. I tried to stop her—”

I didn’t wait for the rest. I brushed past her and rushed up the stairs, taking them two at a time. My chest felt tight, anger barely contained. Each step made my heart pound harder. That reckless girl had only been here one night and she already dared to cross the one line I drew for everyone. What gave her the right? Did she think sucking my gun and batting those bold eyes made her special? Who the hell does she think she is?

That room wasn’t just a studio…it was a wound. Paintings that once meant everything, now half-destroyed because looking at them fully still hurt like a fresh knife. No one entered. No one touched. The punishment for breaking that rule had always been severe. Deadly. She’d soon learn what it meant to snoop around in my darkness.

My jaw clenched so tight it ached.

I reached the restricted hallway, the air feeling heavier, colder. The door to the studio loomed at the end. My hand clenched into a fist at my side as I stopped in front of it.

I turned the lock with a sharp click and pushed the door open hard.

I froze.

Lying there on the floor like it was the most natural place in the world to take a nap was Bianca. Not the girl. Bianca. Her blonde hair was messy, spread out around her head, and she looked dazed.

“What the hell?”

She jumped up at the sound of my voice, hand flying to her head as she looked around in confusion. Her eyes finally landed on me and went round with shock. Her mouth opened, but no words came out at first.

I took a step towards her and she quickly scrambled to her feet on shaky legs, brushing dust off her clothes.

“I don’t… I don’t know what’s happening,” she said frantically, voice high and nervous.

My eyes darkened. Rage and confusion mixed into something dangerous. In a second, I was across the room. My hand shot out, wrapping around her throat as I slammed her back against the wall. The impact made a dull thud, and her breath hitched sharply.

“You better have a good explanation for this,”