Her gaze drifted across the room, landing on the sleek, custom laptop Leo had set up for her on the antique writing desk.
A memory, sharp and sudden, pierced through the fog of exhaustion and pain. Not of Izmir, but of the same villa she stood in.
Two YearsEarlier
The air in Gabriella Colleoni's private study was thick with the aroma of expensive cigars, perfume, and malice. Giana stood rigidly before the massive mahogany desk, her spine ramrod straight, her nails digging into her palms. She had been trapped for four years already, the ghost of her family a constant ache in her chest.
Gabriella, impeccably dressed in midnight blue silk, regarded her as if she were shit on her handmade shoes.
"Our continued guardianship of you is a courtesy, Giana," she stated, her voice like shards of ice. "A reminder of the debt your family owes. Do not mistake it for anything else. You will learn obedience and your place."
Her place. Engaged to Leo, a man who saw her as a sister at best, a burden at worst. The urge to scream, to lash out, was a physical pressure behind her ribs.
"Yes, Signora Colleoni," Giana forced out, the words tasting like ash.
Gabriella's eyes narrowed slightly, unsatisfied but dismissing her with a flick of her wrist. "Rodrigo will see you to your safety. Do not disappoint him by doing anything stupid or reckless. Remember there are worse fates you could be living right now."
Disappointing Rodrigo Colleoni was its own special kind of hell. He was Gabriella's shadow, her enforcer, the cold-eyed killer who seemed to see every flicker of rebellion Giana tried to hide.
He met her outside the study, his expression unreadable, his tailored suit emphasizing the lethal grace beneath. He didn'tspeak, merely gestured for her to follow him down the long, echoing corridor toward the guest wing of the house.
They walked in silence, the only sound their footsteps on the marble. Giana kept her gaze fixed straight ahead, her jaw clenched. Just before they reached her room, Rodrigo stopped. She halted automatically, tense, bracing for some new humiliation, some reminder of her powerlessness.
Instead, he turned and met her eyes directly. There was no cruelty in his face today, only something that looked uncomfortably like understanding.
"She wants you broken," he said. He kept his words barely above a whisper, yet they seemed to vibrate in the space between them. "Pliable. A puppet."
Giana stared at him, shocked into silence. He had never spoken to her like this before or acknowledged the reality of her situation so bluntly.
He glanced around before pulling something from the thick leather document folio he carried under one arm. He offered her a slim, unmarked black box.
"She wants you ignorant and under control," he continued, his gaze never wavering. "She fears what you could do if you had the right tools."
Giana's heart hammered against her ribs. What was this? A test? A trap? She hesitated, her eyes darting from the box to his face, searching for deception.
"Take it," he commanded softly. "Before someone else comes."
Slowly, warily, she reached out and took the box. It was cool, heavier than it looked. She flipped the small latch.
Inside, nestled in black foam, lay a sleek, silver laptop. Not one of the monitored machines provided by the Colleoni staff. Beside it lay a small, unmarked black USB drive.
"It's encrypted," Rodrigo said. "Biometric lock. Your fingerprint only. The drive contains backdoors into our systems. Firewalls. Communications."
Giana's fingers trembled slightly as she traced the cool metal of the laptop. It was a sliver of power. A weapon.
"Why?" The word escaped her lips, barely a whisper. "Why give me this?"
His expression didn't change, but his eyes darkened, holding hers captive.
"Because you arenota puppet, Giana Sorrentino. You are a queen in chains."
He leaned in slightly, his dark, spicy cologne enveloping her. "And queens need their own weapons, even if their 'jailer' provides them."
He straightened abruptly, the moment shattering. The impassive mask slid back into place. "Hide it. Behave for Gabriella until I can get you back to Florence, and you might just find your own key to freedom."
He turned and walked away, leaving her standing alone in the corridor, clutching the box containing forbidden power, her heart pounding.
That night, alone in her room, she activated the laptop. The screen flared to life, demanding her fingerprint. She pressed her thumb to the sensor.
