Page 20

I need a shower. Immediately. The second I’m inside the bathroom, I kick the door shut and rip off my clothes, the wet fabric clinging to my skin, and rush into the shower like I can’t scrub away this night fast enough. I stand under the scalding water, letting it pour over me, feeling it burn away the vomit, the grime, and maybe, just maybe, a little bit of the shame I feel.

I’m not sure how long I’ve been in the shower, but the water is starting to turn cold, snapping me out of my daze.

I turn off the water and grab a towel, wrapping it around my body and stepping out of the shower. Steam clouds the bathroom, fogging up the mirror. For a second, I close my eyes and let the heat loosen my tense muscles, pretending everything’s normal. But nothing in my life is normal, and I can’t stay here any longer.

I open the bathroom door and walk across the small hallway to my bedroom. The floor is cold beneath my feet, but it’s nothing compared to the icy chill that hits me when I open the bedroom door.

I freeze in the doorway, my breath catching in my throat.

Alessio is sitting in the corner with his sharp blue eyes locked on me, like a predator, and I’m his next meal. He’s sitting still, almost unnervingly so. His eyes glarewith something unsettling, making the room feel even smaller and more claustrophobic than usual.

“Dammit,” I mumble under my breath, my voice barely audible over my pounding heart.

My mind races, trying to figure out how the hell he got in here while I struggle to keep my composure.

I hold the towel tighter around me, the thin fabric bunching awkwardly like it could really protect me from the beast in front of me.

I want to run, though the idea of dashing through the cold streets of Chicago in just this tiny towel is laughable, but it’s all I’ve got right now.

I swallow hard, clutching the towel tighter around me. My voice comes out shaky, “W-what are you doing in here?”

Alessio clicks his tongue, a disapproving sound that makes me feel like a kid caught doing something I shouldn’t.

Only then do I notice the light from outside glinting off the blade in his hand. The deep red gemstone in the hilt shines like fresh blood. The blade’s curved and looks sharp as hell, built to tear through whatever it touches. It looks almost like a Ruby’s demon knife, just deadlier.

Alessio spins the blade effortlessly between his fingers, the edge catching the light as it glides over hisknuckles, twisting between his fingers. The motion is so smooth, it’s almost hypnotic.

He never breaks eye contact. And I really, really wish he would.

“I think I’ll be the one asking the questions, Stalker,” he says, his tone casual but cold. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, my stomach coiling tight with something that isn’t quite fear, but it’s pretty damn close.

“Bu—” I don’t even get the word out before Alessio is on his feet. One second, he’s in the chair. Next, he’s on me. A strong, inked hand wraps around my throat, locking me in place. Heat radiates from his skin, pressing against my near-naked self. The scent of cinnamon, fresh bergamot, and expensive cologne hits me all at once, erasing the sour stench of Cindy’s gastrointestinal upchuck, which I hadn’t even realized was lingering in my nose.

Then, impact. My back slams into the wall, hard enough to rattle my bones, to steal my breath. My hands fly up, grabbing his wrist, but he doesn’t budge.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I fight the instinct to panic, thrash, or do something reckless, because that’s exactly what he wants. Instead, I force air into my lungs, blinking up at him.

“I said I’ll be the one asking questions,” he growls, pressing his body against mine.Seriously, why does he have to be so intense? The heat of his minty breath brushes against my cheek. Every inch of him is solid muscle, caging me in. And fuck me, there’s an undeniable ridge poking into my stomach.

I squirm, trying not to focus on that particular detail. His grip loosens just enough to let me breathe, and that’s all I need to find my bravado. I tilt my head up, plastering on my best smirk, forcing my voice to sound way more casual than I feel. “So… what’s up?” I tease, dropping my gaze to the bulge pressing against me.

His jaw ticks. And just like that, I’ve gone too far. The second he steps back, I lash out, aiming a kick right where it hurts. Thank you, Clover, for those self-defense classes.

But Alessio is fast. Before my foot leaves the ground, his hands clamp onto my shoulders. I yelp as he spins us, my vision blurring for half a second before my back hits the mattress hard.

He’s on me in seconds, hot, heavy, and all muscle, pinning me in place. Panic surges up my spine, and my heart is doing back flips.

My fists slam against his chest, my legs kicking, but he barely reacts. Like, I’m not even a threat.

The towel around me shifts from my frantic movements, showing more of me than I’d like, but honestly, that’s the least of my concerns right now.

He lifts a brow and seems way too amused. I hate that he’s enjoying this, that he has this kind of control over me.

I force my breathing to slow, pushing back the panic. Focus, Liv. I need to outsmart him, I can’t freak out now.

Alessio’s knee wedges between my legs, locking them open so I can’t kick him, while his hand clamps both of my wrists above my head, pinning me into the mattress effortlessly.