Worthless

ALESSANDRO’s POV

What the fuck?!

Who the fuck says they don’t care if their daughter is dead or alive?

My brow furrowed, a cold crease forming between my eyes as the dial tone echoed through the speaker.

Click.

The bastard actually hung up.

My eyes flashed instantly to Isabella. 

She sat still on the bed, her back hunched in defiance.

I’d have expected her to wail, throw tantrums or even cry about the fact that her father just said he didn’t care about her and that she was going to die at our hands.

Instead…her face was a mask of indifference.

She looked unbothered… bored.

Except…i could see through the cracks. 

Her bound fingers were curled into fists so tight her knuckles were stark white, her short nails biting hard into her own palms. 

The silent tremor betrayed her. 

Her father giving her up bothered her deeply no matter how high she raised her chin up and tried to act unbothered. 

My jaws ticked. ‘’Untie her.’’ I muttered quietly to Domenico.

My brother gave me a swift, questioning glance but unbuckled the leather strap around her wrists without argument. 

Isabella didn't move. 

She just rubbed the reddened skin of her wrists, her dark eyes tracking us as we walked out of the room and locked the door behind us.

Downstairs in my study, the air was suffocatingly quiet.

“That went well…’’ Domenico growled, pouring two fingers of amber bourbon into a crystal glass. “The old man didn't even hesitate. He just laughed and told us to do whatever the fuck we want. Who the hell does that? Dammit, Sandro! She’s useless to us.’’

My left hand drummed against my mahagony desk while the right one drew circles around my chin.

‘’We should—‘’

Cling!

My laptop chimed before I could finish my sentence. 

The background dossier we’d ordered on the Conti family had just hit my inbox. 

My movement stopped.

I reached forward and pulled up the encrypted file, scrolling through the intelligence reports, official records, and hidden red-flagged documents.

As I read, something dark and heavy snapped inside my chest.

Isabella Conti wasn't the prized heir of the Conti family like I’d thought.

She wasn't even an acknowledged child. She was the bastard daughter—conceived out of wedlock, hidden away in a secondary estate, neglected, and used merely as a tax write-off and an occasional prop when Conti needed to look like a family man. 

My chest constricted and I bit into the inside of my cheeks to stop myself from exploding. 

“Well!’’ Domenico’s voice bloomed from behind me as he leaves over the desk and stared at the screen with a huge scowl on the face. ‘’That explains it. She’s of no value to him, no value to us. We pack her up, drop her back on his doorstep, and find another way to bleed Conti dry.”

“No.” I cut in. 

Domenico narrowed his eyes. “No? Sandro, keeping her is of no use—”

“We aren't sending her back.’’ I interrupted, closing the laptop with a decisive snap. 

I leaned back in my leather chair, my mind already calculating, spinning, fascinated. “She’s spent her whole life being neglected and treated like a ghost. Returning her proves Conti won. I don't let men like him win.”

“So what’s the plan?”

“We break her.’’ I murmured, a slow, dark smirk curving my lips. 

‘’You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Sandro—‘’

‘’Don’t you see how sharp mouthed she is?’’ I challenged, staring into his eyes.

I bet he felt it too.

‘’Didn’t you feel it too? We can do so much more with her. We break that defiant little spirit through total isolation. We strip away the luxuries of this house. No servants, no freedom, subtle psychological pressure until she realizes her entire existence now belongs entirely to us.”

---

Over the next three days, the game began.

We moved her to a smaller room, got rid of anything that could make her feel special. Just plain linen, stark walls and silence.

We kept her isolated, waiting for her to beg… to cave in.

Instead, the fiery little witch made every interaction a battlefield.

I clenched the tray in my hand tightly and pulled the door to her new room open.

She sat just by the corner, the food from the morning left untouched.

My jaws ticked.

‘’Eat.’’ 

She looked up at me, her lips curling into a smirk. ‘’Stepping down from master kidnapper to room service, Alessandro?” she purred, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’m flattered.”

I paused at the door, my grip tightening on the handle. 

I stepped closer into her space, letting my height shadow over her, expecting her to flinch back from the intimidating proximity.

She didn't move an inch. 

Instead, her eyes dipped down to my mouth before locking back onto mine, an electric heat crackling in the microscopic space between us.

“Watch your tongue, little pet.’’ I rasped, leaning down until my breath brushed against her jawline. “You’re entirely at my mercy here.”

“Then you’d better start being more merciless,” She whispered, her pulse fluttering violently at her collarbone despite the sharp, mocking smile on her lips. “Because right now, I can’t tell what the fuck you’re trying to do.’’ 

A sudden, sharp pull of irritation flared in my gut intertwined with an addicting, dangerous wave of lust that made my blood run hot.

She was testing my boundaries. 

And God help us both, I was starting to enjoy it.