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"Our world," I repeat, tasting the bitterness of those words. "A world where daughters are bargaining chips."
Silence stretches between us again and I find myself filling it.
"London was different." I twist my mother's ring around my finger. "For a while I felt... normal. Just another student with deadlines and favorite coffee shops."
"You had friends?"
"I had a roommate, Ashley." A smile touches my lips at the memory. "She was a lesbian and we had an amazing time together. She taught me how to make proper tea and took me to underground clubs I'd never have found on my own."
"Your father allowed that? A roommate?"
"He hated it. Said we had money enough to buy houses all around the UK if I wanted to. He couldn't understand why I'd choose to share a flat when I didn't have to." I sigh. "Eventually he forced me to move and alone. Said it wasn't appropriate for a Lombardi to share anything."
Alessio shifts on his mattress. "Did you keep talking to her? Ashley?"
"For a while." The water stain on the ceiling blurs as my eyes fill. "But after I left for New York, I... I haven't contacted her."
"Why not?"
I swallow hard. "I left London heartbroken in one way and another. I needed to keep a distance from everything that had to do with London."
"What happened?" Alessio's voice is almost tender.
I try to look at him through the darkness. "It's not really fair for me to do all the talking, is it? What about you? Tell me something real."
His profile is sharp against the dim light. "I'm not a big talker."
I stare at the ceiling for another moment, then say, "Okay." If he won't volunteer information, I'll have to dig it out of him. "Let me ask you questions. That might help."
A low chuckle rumbles from Alessio's mattress. The sound startles me—I've barely heard him laugh before.
"What's so funny?" I prop myself up on one elbow.
"Nothing." There's still amusement in his voice. "Ask your questions, princess."
I consider what I want to know about this dangerous man lying a few feet away from me. "Are you married?" I pause, then add, "Do you have any kids?"
Alessio laughs again, louder this time. "These are questions a five-year-old child could answer just by looking at me."
"Don't be so dramatic," I roll my eyes, though he probably can't see it in the darkness. "Just answer."
The springs creak as he shifts. "I'm not a fan of relationships. So no, neither of those things."
I put my head in my hand, propping myself up to look at him better. "What does that even mean? You've never had girlfriends?"
Alessio turns his head toward me. Even in the darkness I feel the weight of his gaze. "I had one, once. It ended." His throat rasps, rough. "Since then, I just fuck."
My mouth falls open. The blunt statement catches me completely off guard and I can feel heat rushing to my face. I'm grateful for the darkness hiding my reaction but I can't stop the small gasp escaping my lips.
I swallow hard, the heat in my face intensifying. His words hang in the air between us, brutal and unapologetic. Just fuck. The crude simplicity of it shouldn't affect me this way.
"Of course you do," I say, finding my voice. "Every man in your circle either just fucks around like my brother does, or marries out of self-interest and then fucks around on his wife."
The words are just as blunt as his, something about his casual admission has struck a nerve. Maybe it's because it reminds me of Leonardo, who cycles through women like seasonal wardrobes. Or my father, who maintained mistresses throughout his marriage to my mother. Or just because of James. Even though he isn't part of our world.
The mattress across from me creaks as Alessio sits up suddenly. Even in the dimness I make out the tension in his shoulders. When he speaks his voice has that dangerous register that makes my skin prickle.
"The next time you compare me to another man," he says, each word cutting, "you'll end up with your hands tied again."