Chapter 2

• Alessia
• ___
• A gentle breeze grazed my shoulder, and a shiver ran down my spine. A soft groan left my throat as I inhaled the delightful scent of the bed sheets enough to bring a smile to my lips.
• Stretching my hands with a yawn, I grew reluctant to get up. But my stomach rumbled. I was
• starving.
• As I opened my eyes, disturbing visions flooded my mind, and I suddenly snapped. At some point, I thought it was a nightmare, but the presence of a dangerous man still lingered.
• I passed out in his hands.
• Panic sabotaged me, and I sat up swiftly. I was in a strange-looking room. It looked nothing like mine or Carina’s room and nothing like Marco’s.
• The man’s words echoed, making me realise the danger I was in.
• I pushed the cover off my body and stepped down. The moment I got up, I realised I was almost naked, only wearing gold-coloured lingerie that I never had.
• Sitting back on the bed, I grabbed the sheet and covered myself. It had to be a nightmare.
• “There is a dress beside you for a reason.”
• I jerked as I turned behind. My eyes darted in the direction where his deep voice emerged. The voice of my nightmare.
• He sat near the wide-open window that faced the ocean. I could barely see his face because the brightness emitted from the window obscured him. But I was aware it was him.
• My heartbeat picked its pace when he got up and took calculated steps towards me. The grip of the sheet tightened against my chest. I wanted to scream, but I couldn’t open my mouth.
• I had a lot to think about. Trying to understand what he had to do with me.
• He stopped right in front of me, and I squeezed my thighs shut. He held a glass of whiskey, and I did not miss the rings on his fingers.
• I focused.
• “You kidnapped me.” It felt wrong saying it. “What do you want from me, what did I do?”
• “Lower your voice.”
• “No.” I furiously got up and faced him. The sheet slipped from my hands, but seeing I was wearing something new meant he saw a lot. He undressed me. “Why am I here!”
• I realised it was the pair he had bought from the lingerie shop. He had been following me.
• “Oh my God.” I breathed, gripping my hair as I faced away. “You have been stalking me. What do you want?”
• “I told you,” he replied. I could feel his gaze penetrating through my skin.
• He undressed and touched me. That alone aroused anger in me, and I glared at him. “Why did you touch me?”
• “You are starting—”
• I shut him up. “Did you touch me?!” My teeth gritted against the other, my breath growing loud.
• He sighed and placed the glass on the bedside table. Checking his wristwatch, he maintained a stern expression. “You will be a good girl and lower your voice for me.”
• “I am not doing shit. I need answe–”
• My voice faded when he stepped in and wrapped his fingers around my neck, pressing his body against mine. “When I say you shut up, you do.”
• He was challenging me. “Not until you answer me,” I groaned when he squeezed my throat, but that didn’t scare me like his free hand that crawled on my bare back. “Get your hands off-” I paused and nudged my ass off when he moved lower, gripping my butt cheek. I shook my head.
• “You won’t dare.” He pulled me to him, slamming me against his front.
• I realised he was doing more when I talked, and I couldn’t let him do more.
• “I’ll talk and you will answer me appropriately otherwise you will beg me to stop.”
• “Fuck you!” I gritted, expecting his reaction. I refused to acknowledge his bulge poking my skin; it kept bringing reactions to my body, especially when looking at his eyes which had been the perfect eyes I ever saw.
• “How much do you know about Marco?”
• I glared, keeping my lips shut, determined to get answers to my questions as well.
• After a moment, he raised an eyebrow. “I asked a question.”
• “So did I,” I spat, and I noticed a dark shade of anger in his eyes, making me move back. He pinned me against the bed. “Did you undress me?” I pressed again, and he continued to touch places I considered private.
• “I did.” He admitted without shame, his jaws twitching, his eyes falling to my lips and then back to me. “And if I fucking ask a question and don’t get an answer, you won’t like it. So be a darling and be obedient. How well do you know Marco?”
• I gulped, “I won’t talk until you let go of me.” for the respect I had for my body, I needed space.
• Else it would lead to things I would regret, because why was I burning?
• His jaws clenched before he stepped behind. I tried hard to ignore how he kept gazing at my lips.
• “Maybe I should use the hard way.”
• He moved, and I fell back on the bed. I could breathe, but again, I held my breath when he picked up a knife from the table. I noticed a familiar name engraved on the knife: Lazza.
• The name alarmed me. He couldn’t be who I thought he was.
• “You won’t hurt me.” I sensed his growing anger. The consuming look he gave, the threat of a knife, and the man standing in front of me instilled fear, yet I ignored it.
• The rings on his right-hand fingers caught me again. I could read the letters written on each ring on each finger. L. A. Z. Z. A.
• Lazza
• The name rang bells in my head. Lazza, the famous name of the Italian Mafia leader. The Don.
• I swallowed, ready to talk, but the door flung open. A woman got pushed inside by another man dressed in a similar suit. They sealed her mouth and tied her hands. She was the chef who had served us at Marco’s place.
• Her tearful eyes met mine as she knelt beside the guy I suspected to be the Don. The scuffling of feet drew my gaze back to him. He leaned closer to me. “You disrespected me.” I shook my head. “I don’t understand what you want.” The situation took a dark turn.
• “Answers.” He declared while playing with the knife.
• “For what? Marco and I dated for three months.” I swallowed, fear creeping into my depths. “We
• ... I don’t know. We dated for three months.” I couldn’t let him kill another person in my presence.
• “How well do you know him?” He asked, and the way he kept playing with the knife gave me goosebumps.
• “Not so well,” I admitted.
• “Wrong answer.” With a swift move, he threw the knife while still staring at me. And a thud
• followed.
• The chef lay on the floor with the knife in her throat. Blood pooled around her head, turning her blonde hair red.
• My breath hitched, every nerve on edge. I couldn’t breathe; I couldn’t even think.
• “One last time—”
• “No, I ... I don’t know. He runs a business, his father’s business, and he—” I released a shaky breath when he approached me.
• “Wrong answer,”
• “I’m not sure.” Shaking my head, I crawled away from him. “I did not ask him a lot about business and any—”
• “Where does he live?” He grew cold, appearing more menacing, and I knew he was the one I shouldn’t have ever met. “The beach house wasn’t his.”
• I stared in shock. How could I have known it wasn’t his? It was my second time there.
• “I only know the beach house,” I whispered.
• He examined his gun, looking all relaxed. “He knows your father.”
• I remember meeting Marco in my father’s office. “Yes, yes. I don’t know how, but that’s how
• Marco and I met.”
• His gaze intensified, and fear absorbed me.
• “Good,” he smirked. “So, your family is my enemy. Just the people I needed.” “I don’t know what you are talking about.” I stammered.
• “Calm down,” He smirked and leaned his hands on the bed. His eyes interlocked with mine, and I wondered how he did it, how he would look dangerous and hot at the same time. “You are very
• useful.”
• I shook my head, and the guy suddenly gripped my legs and drew me closer. My breath stuck in my throat when I noticed the space between us and how I sat with my thigh open. He ran his hands over my thighs, not softly, but for some fucking reason, I loved his roughness. “You, Marco, and your parents are my enemies.” He smirked. “I will make you useful.” “I—” I never finished my sentence when he touched my lips.
• “Careful what you say. You might regret it.” He declared. “A friend to my enemy is also an enemy,” he whispered while running his finger over my lips. “Your parents better have answers good enough to set you free.”
• He smiled but I did not like the smile. It looked darker than his suit.