Page 18

I force myself to stand, fighting the dizziness that threatens to overwhelm me. One step at a time. I need to think clearly.
I step into the bathroom and flip on the light, wincing at my reflection. My eyes look hollow, my skin pale. I barely recognize myself.
I turn on the faucet, letting cold water run over my wrists before splashing my face. The shock helps clear my head. I find a new toothbrush and toothpaste in the drawer—clearly they've prepared for a guest. Or a prisoner.
As I brush my teeth, I try to assess my options.
Alessio's absence terrifies me more than his presence did. At least when he was here, watching me with those shifty eyes, I knew where he was. Now he could be anywhere—making deals, plotting my fate, preparing to hand me over to someone worse.
I rinse my mouth and stare at my reflection again. The woman looking back at me appears stronger than I feel. My mother's daughter. A survivor.
There has to be a way out of this.
But every path I see leads to the same conclusion because Alessio holds all the power now. He has the evidence. He has me. And he doesn't need to keep me alive to use either.
I freeze mid-step as I exit the bathroom. Alessio sits in the armchair by the window, one ankle resting on the opposite knee. I didn't hear him enter.
"Good morning," he says, his voice low and smooth.
On the small table beside him sit two steaming mugs. He gestures toward the second chair. "Coffee."
I hesitate, glancing between him and the hot drink. The rich aroma fills the room, making my stomach clench with unexpected hunger.
"It's not poisoned," he says, a hint of amusement in his tone. "If I wanted you dead, there are more efficient methods."
I approach cautiously and pick up the mug, studying its contents. I take a sip. The coffee contains just the right amount of cream, no sugar. Exactly how I take it.
"How did you know?" I ask, unable to hide my surprise.
His mouth curves slightly. "You're the daughter of Antonio Lombardi. Your preferences are publicly documented."
A chill runs through me despite the warm mug in my hands. Of course they would have researched me before abducting me. He already told me that yesterday.
I take another tentative sip. The coffee is rich and smooth, clearly not instant. The small luxury feels strange within my captivity.
"Thank you," I say automatically, my manners ingrained too deeply to ignore.
Alessio watches me over the rim of his mug, his eyes never leaving mine. There's something different about him this morning. The hardness is still there but layered with something else—curiosity, perhaps.
"You slept," he observes.
"Not by choice," I reply, hating how vulnerable that makes me sound.
He nods as if he understands completely. "The body takes what it needs."
I lower myself into the chair across from him, keeping my back straight, chin up. My mother's voice echoes in my head:Never let them see your fear, Melania.
Silence stretches between us as I sip my coffee, my mind cavorting with questions. Alessio studies me with those dark, penetrating eyes that seem to strip away my every defense.
"Your brother," he says finally. "Leonardo. What did he say about your marriage to Raymond?"
The question catches me off guard. I hadn't expected him to know about Leo, much less ask about him.
"He..." I hesitate, fingering my mother's ring. "He supported it. At least publicly."
"And you didn't tell him what you found out? About the trafficking operation?"
I laugh, a bitter explosion that surprises even me. "Blood doesn't always mean safety."