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I take a deep breath, straightening my shoulders. If the Ferettis eventually plan to return me to my father or use me as a bargaining chip, I'll need to consider my options when that time comes. But right now I have space to breathe, to think, to plan.
And that's more than I had this morning in that suffocating bridal suite.
I watch the security feed as Melania disappears into the bathroom. She can't escape from there—no windows, one door, and we've cleared it of anything that could be used as a weapon. No need for cameras in that space. I've got limits, despite what she might think.
When she emerges from the bathroom, face dripping, she looks different. Something's changed in her expression—a new resolve that makes me sit up straighter.
"What are you planning,piccola?" I ask the screen.
Her bag sits beside me on the desk. She's been too concerned about it since the moment I took her. Time to find out why.
I unzip it carefully, searching for hidden compartments. I find the standard items—wallet with credit cards and ID, makeup, and a sleek laptop. But tucked into an inner pocket is what I'm looking for—a small black USB drive with a fingerprint scanner built into its titanium casing.
Military-grade security. Not something a socialite carries to store vacation photos.
I turn it over in my hand, feeling its weight. Whatever's on this, it's important enough that she was willing to offer me thirty million to let her retrieve it. Important enough that she looked genuinely disconcerted when she realized it was in my possession.
The USB requires a fingerprint to access. I could force her hand onto it, but something tells me the contents are worth understanding before confronting her.
I slide the drive into my pocket and return everything else to the bag. The laptop might provide answers too, but it's likely password-protected. I could have our people work on both but it is not possible right now.
Whatever game she's playing, whatever's on this drive—it's big enough to make her run from her own wedding. Big enough to make Raymond Stone turn the city upside down looking for her.
And now it's in my pocket.
My phone vibrates against the desk. Damiano's name flashes on the screen.
"Tell me you have good news," I answer.
"Define good." Damiano's voice is tight. "Antonio Lombardi just doubled the reward. Thirty million for information on his daughter's whereabouts."
My thumb traces my bottom lip as I process this. "Thirty million? For a daughter he was selling off to Stone?"
"Exactly my thought." Papers rustle on Damiano's end. "If it was Sofia missing, I'd empty every account I have. I'd burn cities to the ground. But Antonio?"
"He doesn't strike me as father of the year," I say, glancing at the security feed where Melania sits on the edge of the bed, shoulders squared like she's preparing for battle.
"Something doesn't add up. Either he loves her—which is bullshit otherwise he would have offered thirty million to start—or his daughter has something he desperately needs."
I feel the weight of the USB in my pocket. "Or knows something."
"Find out what it is," Damiano orders. "With that bounty every cop, mercenary and desperate fuck in the city will be hunting her. She's the most wanted woman in the country right now." Damiano's voice hardens. "I don't care how you do it but get me answers. If Antonio wants her this badly, we need to know why."
"Understood."
The call ends, and I stare at the screen showing Melania. The determination in her posture, the calculation in those amber eyes. She's no helpless princess. She's hiding something that’s worth thirty million dollars to her father.
Time to find out what.
The hallway to her room stretches long and silent.
I unlock her door and push it open. Melania jumps to her feet immediately, like a soldier called to action. Her eyes fasten on the bag over my shoulder, then dart casually back to my face.She's trying to appear calm but the pulse pounding her neck gives her away.
"Time for us to have a little discussion, princess." I close the door behind me, leaning against it. "Sit."
She hesitates, calculating her options before perching on the edge of the bed. I drag the room's single chair to face her, setting her bag beside me on the floor. Close enough that she can see it, far enough that she can't reach it.
"Let's start simple." I settle into the chair, stretching my legs out. "Why were you running from your own wedding?"