He growls after stopping at the end of a hallway. “I have to get my keys out of my pocket. Will you behave?”
“No.”
He sets me down anyway, putting me in a corner between two doors. My legs tremble with adrenaline as he stares down at me with a scowl on his face, not breaking eye-contact as he puts his gun away and retrieves a set of keys, unlocking the door in front of him.
Before I can decide if I want to try running, his arm is on me again, dragging me inside of the foyer of a modern-looking… apartment? I’m assuming this is where Alessandro lives. While the rest of this place has a very medieval vibe that you’d expect tourists to walk through and learn about the history of the place, Alessandro’s home is nothing like it. The space is masculine but well-decorated and immaculate—either he’s a control freak or he barely spends time in this place.
It feels surreal suddenly being in this space. No longer under the threat of gun violence. It’s silent.
This wedding dress feels too tight as my mind races. What just happened? Is my grandfather dead? Max? Nick? Is anyone else in my family dead? I slowly slide down the wall so that I can collapse into a seated position on the ground.
He follows my lead and takes a seat, blocking the door and setting his gun to the side. I eye it, wondering if there’s any possibility of me lunging to get it before he can. His smirk tells me he doesn’t think so.
Without taking his eyes off me, he pulls his phone out of his pocket and makes a call.
“Elena?Ça va?”
My ears perk up at the fact he’s speaking French. I always thought his accent was a bit off, but I didn’t think much of it. He continues checking in on his sister when it dawns on me—he doesn’t realize I speak French too—I learned that in college alongside Italian. He doesn’t want me to hear this conversation.
He’s avoiding saying any names out loud, but I can decipher what he’s saying well enough—my grandfather and everyone else in my family got away with at most minor injuries, but their brother, Vincenzo, got shot. I conceal a smile, realizing how lucky we all were. I can’t wait to find out the story of how everyone got away. Grandpa must have had a plan in place to stay one step ahead of Marco. Then my stomach sinks when I wonder when the next time I’ll talk to them will be.
Alessandro complains about me to his sister, saying that I kicked him in the shin so many times it hurts to walk. I can tell he’sexaggerating to her for the sake of humor, but I’m still proud of myself. Now I can’t help the smile that forms on my face. Fuck him.
He ends the call and gets up, then squats down across from me so that he’s eye-level. “I’m going to be blunt—”
“Oh, really? You always have such a strong filter.”
The look he gives me shuts me up. I’ve been so used to having the confidence to fire back any insult I wanted. But the reality of the situation is crashing down on me. Now that his family waged war on mine, there’s literally nothing stopping him from hurting me in any way he wants. I survived that attack, and so did everyone else in my family. But what now?
My chest constricts as he continues talking.
“You don’t want to be here, and I don’t want you here either. So, I have some rules.” He holds up his finger. “One. Don’t speak unless spoken to. Two. You will stay in my home unless I let you leave. I will have a guard or two at the entrance to this place to make sure you stay put. And if you try to escape, your new living quarters will be in the dungeon, and you will beg me to let you live up here again.”
How many rules are there going to be?
“Three. I am a very particular person. I absolutely cannot handle you rummaging around my things, so do not move or organize anything without my permission. And finally, I don’t want youmingling with any staff members or any of my soldiers. Is that clear?”
There’s so much adrenaline coursing through me I feel like I only comprehended half of his speech. But I think I got the gist of it. “So, I can’t talk at all unless you directly speak to me?”
“Yes.”
I bite my bottom lip, worrying about how serious he is going to be about all of this. Keeping his space tidy is fine; I’m an overly-particular neat-freak too. And if I tried to escape, there’s no way in hell I’m getting caught. But the talking thing? I won’t do well with that.
I wait a few seconds, wondering if he has more rules to tell me, but thankfully he seems to be done.
He stands up, looking unsure of himself for a moment as he rubs his face and paces around the room. I can tell that he doesn’t know what to do next.
All I want to do is get out of this corset dress so that I can breathe again. But how am I going to do that? Can I contort my arm well enough to untie it myself? I’m going to have to, because the alternative is not going to happen.
“I need to use the ladies’ room,” I say, already forgetting rule number one.
He doesn’t seem to notice, though. I’m guessing he’s enjoying having some direction to move in rather than sitting in his foyer in silence.
“Fine.” He nods his head towards the hallway. “It’s this way.”
My legs finally feel steady as I stand up. Every door in the main hallway is closed except for the one that leads to the master bedroom. His bedroom fits the decor of the rest of the place. The only things that stands out to me is the massive bookcase that takes over an entire wall, a beautiful view of the city, and the California king-sized bed—I assumed he slept in a coffin or hung upside down like a bat.
A luxurious white-marble bathroom is beyond his bedroom, which he unceremoniously points to as he looks me up and down with scrutiny.
