“Besides,” I add, allowing a coldness to enter my tone, “you belong to me, Lea. You have been since the moment you walked into Purgatorio. The sooner you accept that reality, the easier things will be for both of us.”
Her breathing quickens, her fingers curling into the bedsheets. For a moment, I think she might try to make a break for thedoor, futile as that would be in her condition. Instead, she closes her eyes briefly, as if gathering what little strength remains. “I have a story to write. A deadline. I need to report back to Harrison.”
“There is no story,” I reply simply. “There never was. Your job at The Journal, your entire life, was orchestrated by your mother, remember?”
The fight visibly drains from her then, the last reserves of her defiance crumbling under the weight of inescapable truth. Her shoulders slump, her head bows. When she looks up again, her eyes are dull with defeat.
“What happens now?” she asks, the words hollow.
I don’t answer. Instead, I reach for my phone and text Blake:Asset secured. Bring the car to the north cabin. Discreet team only.
His response is immediate:Yes, sir. ETA 20 minutes.
“Now,” I tell her, putting my phone away, “we wait for my people to arrive. Then we move you to a more secure location.” I step back, giving her space. “You're running on empty. You need to eat.” I nod toward a small cabinet in the kitchenette. “There are protein bars and beef jerky in there. Eat something before Blake arrives. That's an order.”
She says nothing, just turns her face to the wall. The gesture is childish, a final, feeble attempt at defiance, but I allow it. She’s been broken tonight. Not completely, not irreparably, but enough. The rest will come.
By the time Blake arrives with the car, Lea’s fallen into a fitful sleep, her body surrendering to exhaustion even as her mindresists. I wake her with a firm hand on her shoulder, ignoring her disoriented attempt to pull away.
“It’s time to go,” I tell her, helping her to her feet with a grip that allows no argument. “Can you walk?”
She nods mutely, though her wince when she puts weight on her injured feet suggests otherwise. Still, she stands, swaying slightly but remaining upright.
Blake enters, his expression neutral as he takes in Lea’s disheveled state and my hand firmly gripping her arm.
“The car’s ready, sir,” he says. “Alessandro’s waiting at the main house.”
“You’re not going back to the main house,” I reply. “Take her directly to the lake house on the north shore.”
Blake nods, his gaze flickering briefly to Lea before returning to me.
I turn to Lea, who’s listening to this exchange with growing annoyance. “Time to go, piccola.”
She flinches at the endearment but allows me to guide her outside to the waiting SUV. I help Lea inside, noting her grimace of pain as she settles into the seat.
“I’ll be there later,” I tell Blake. “Keep her secure, but have the medic look at her feet when you arrive.”
“Yes, sir,” Blake replies, his tone professional, devoid of curiosity or judgment.
Lea watches me through the window as Blake pulls away, her expression a mixture of fear, exhaustion, and resignation.
My drive to Alessandro’s main house takes less than fifteen minutes, the private road slick but navigable now that the storm has passed. I park in the circular driveway and enter without announcement, finding Alessandro in his study, as expected.
He looks up from his desk, his expression carefully composed. “You found her,” he says. It’s not a question.
“Of course.” I pour myself a drink from the crystal decanter on the sideboard, wincing slightly as the movement pulls at my injured shoulder. “She’s on her way to the lake house now.”
Alessandro leans back in his chair, studying me with those penetrating eyes that have unnerved lesser men for decades. “And you didn’t think to inform me first?”
“I’m informing you now.” I take a seat across from him, sipping my whiskey. “The situation is contained.”
“Is it?” He raises an eyebrow. “She knows about her mother’s operation. She knows about our interest in it. She knows too much, Nico.”
“A problem I’m well aware of,” I reply, my tone deliberately even. “And one I’m handling.”
Alessandro sighs, reaching for his own drink. “By isolating her at the lake house? That’s your solution?”
“It’s the first step,” I reply. “She needs to understand that there is no escape, Alessandro. Only what I allow. Besides, it’s the safest place now, with the other locations compromised.”
