"I want freedom," I said firmly.
"From Antonio? Or from everything?" He leaned forward slightly. "Because I can offer both, but they come with different prices."
I studied him—the perfect suit, the cold eyes that occasionally sparked with something warmer, the hands that could probably snap my neck without effort but had moved with careful control when he handed me the wine.
"What's your game, Vittorio? Torture me until I magically develop hacking skills to unlock something Antonio made sure even I couldn’t access?"
"Is that what Antonio would do? Torture you?"
"Without hesitation."
Vittorio's eyes narrowed. “He trusted you enough to keep everything a secret.”
I gave a short, bitter laugh. “Trusted me? He went digital because I found the ledgers. The moment I confronted him, he ripped the paper trail away and moved everything onto that drive—some paranoid upgrade to stay ten steps ahead of everyone.”
His gaze sharpened. “So, you never knew the password?”
“No.” I shook my head. “I was going to take it to the FBI, let their tech teams crack it open. That was the plan… until you intercepted me.”
He sipped his wine thoughtfully. "I'm not Antonio."
"No," I agreed, finally taking a sip of my own wine. "You're more dangerous."
His eyebrow raised. "How so?"
"Antonio never pretended to be anything but what he is. You…" I gestured around the beautiful room, at the wine, at the small kindnesses that had been accumulating. "You make captivity feel almost like a choice."
A smile ghosted across his lips. "Perhaps I'm offering you a real choice."
"There are no real choices when one option is death."
"There's always death, Sophie. The question is what you do before it comes."
We fell into silence, the air between us heavy with unspoken possibilities. I found myself studying the way the fading light caught in his dark hair, the controlled strength in his hands, the curve of his mouth when he almost smiled.
When had my captor become more interesting than my escape plan?
The evening stretched before us, full of dangerous possibilities and choices I wasn't sure I was ready to make. But one thing was becoming clear—Vittorio Ricci was nothing like his brother. And that realization was both terrifying and oddly comforting.
I was no longer just planning my escape. I was trying to understand the man who held me captive, and discovering that understanding him might be the most dangerous thing of all.
CHAPTER 3
Vittorio
Iwatched her on the monitors, fingers steepled beneath my chin. Two weeks. She'd been here two weeks, and already she'd catalogued every weakness in my security. Six different camera angles captured Sophie as she wandered through the garden, her red hair catching fire in the afternoon sun. Two weeks of careful observation, two weeks of unspoken challenges between us, and I was no closer to getting what I needed from her than when this began.
The surveillance room hummed with electricity, screens bathing my face in blue light as I tracked her movements. She paused by the eastern perimeter, fingers trailing along the stone wall. Then, she moved to examine the roses, lingering just long enough to appear casual before drifting toward the service entrance.
Clever girl.
"She's checking all the exit points," Enzo observed from behind me, his bulky frame reflected in the darkened screens.
"Yes." I leaned forward, watching as she chatted with one of the gardeners. Her smile was easy, disarming. The old man pointed toward the greenhouse, and Sophie nodded, her body language relaxed while her eyes remained sharp, cataloging information. "But she's not panicking. Look how methodical she is."
Antonio had described her as emotional, impulsive. A beautiful liability. Yet the woman I observed was calculating each move like a chess player, three steps ahead.
I tell myself it's about escape routes, but I've memorized the way she moves, the stubborn set of her jaw. This isn't reconnaissance anymore.
