Iwoke to sunlight filtering through unfamiliar curtains. My first morning as Vittorio Ricci's prisoner. My head throbbed like I'd been hit by a truck. Silk sheets slid against my skin as I pushed myself upright, the room spinning momentarily before settling into focus.
This wasn't my apartment.
The events of the previous night crashed back—the rain, the car, Vittorio. The water. The bastard had drugged me.
I looked down at myself and froze. I was wearing a silk nightgown I'd never seen before. Someone had undressed me, had touched me while I was unconscious. The violation made my skin crawl, memories of other hands, other times I'd been helpless flooding back before I pushed them away.
Bile rose in my throat.
"No, no, no," I whispered, patting my chest frantically.
The flash drive. It was gone.
Panic clawed through me. That drive was my only leverage, my only protection. Without it, I was just another woman who'd crossed a dangerous man. And I knew what happened to those women.
I flung myself from the bed, searching the unfamiliar room. It was beautiful—all cream and gold, with plush carpets and antique furniture that probably cost more than I'd make in five years. A gilded prison.
The bathroom was equally luxurious—marble countertops, a shower big enough for four people, and a bathtub that could double as a small pool. Toiletries had been arranged neatly on the counter—expensive brands I'd never be able to afford. The thoughtfulness of it reminded me of Antonio in the early days, when he'd filled my apartment with expensive gifts, making me feel cherished. Before I learned that everything came with a price.
My clothes from last night were gone. The closet revealed an array of designer dresses, blouses, and pants, all in my size. The lingerie drawer contained pieces with tags still attached.
He'd been planning this. Or at least, preparing for someone to be here.
I tried the door—locked, of course. The windows were reinforced glass that wouldn't break no matter how hard I hit them with the desk chair. I was trapped.
Sinking onto the edge of the bed, I forced myself to breathe. Panicking wouldn't help. I needed to think, to plan. Vittorio wanted the information on the flash drive, which meant he needed me alive and relatively unharmed.
I'd use that.
A soft knock interrupted my thoughts.
"Who is it?" I called, tensing.
"Breakfast, miss." A woman's voice, warm but professional.
The lock clicked, and the door opened to reveal a small, older woman in a crisp uniform, carrying a tray. Despite her diminutive stature, she moved with quiet authority.
"I'm Lila," she said, setting the tray on the table by the window. "I manage the household."
Her weathered hands arranged the items with practiced care. "You must eat, dear. You're far too thin."
I approached the food cautiously. After last night's drugged water, I wasn't taking any chances. But the coffee smelled too good to resist, and my growling stomach reminded me I hadn't eaten since yesterday afternoon.
Just as I reached for a croissant, the door opened again. Vittorio filled the doorway, imposing in a charcoal suit that highlighted the breadth of his shoulders. Those ice-blue eyes assessed me in one sweep.
"I see you're awake," he said, closing the door behind him. "How are you feeling?"
"Like someone drugged me and locked me in a strange room," I snapped. "Where are my clothes? And who the hell changed me?"
"Your clothes are being cleaned. And a female staff member changed you—I didn't think you'd want to sleep in wet clothes." He approached the table, gesturing to the chair opposite mine. "May I?"
The consideration in his voice caught me off guard.Antonio used to do that, too—small courtesies that made you forget you were trapped until it was too late.
"Do I have a choice?"
"There are always choices, Sophie. Some just have better outcomes than others." He sat, pouring coffee into both cups. "You should eat. The food isn't drugged."
To prove his point, he took a bite of a pastry and a sip from my coffee cup before passing it to me. The gesture was unexpectedly thoughtful, so different from Antonio's mind games.
