I can feel him watching me, lips parted slightly in shock.
Not just watching—assessing.
Every part of him is still wound tight from the confrontation, but there’s something else in his stance now. Concern, suspicion. That sharp, all-consuming focus of his, the one that never lets anything slip past him. I can already see the way his mind is working, fitting together pieces I don’t want him to touch.
I need to get ahead of this.
I push off the doorframe, straightening as much as I can, even as my body sways slightly in protest. "It’s nothing," I manage, voice hoarse.
Marco’s eyes narrow. "Sofia?—"
"Food poisoning," I cut in, forcing a weak smile. "I think something I ate earlier didn’t sit right."
It’s a gamble.
I never get sick. He knows that.
But Marco also knows I’ve spent the last few days in a whirlwind of stress, and it’s just enough of a plausible excuse that I see the flicker of doubt in his expression.
His gaze drags over me. "Food poisoning."
I nod, pressing a hand lightly against my stomach as if I’m still feeling the aftermath. "I just need to lie down for a while. I’ll be fine."
It’s a lie.
I’m not fine.
Because this isn’t food poisoning.
And I know it.
Marco doesn’t move for a moment, his stare drilling into me like he can strip away the words I’m giving him and see the truth underneath. But finally, with a sharp inhale, he exhales through his nose and takes a step back.
"You’re going to bed," he says, and it isn’t a suggestion.
I don’t argue. I need space.
I brush past him, ignoring the way his fingers twitch at his sides like he wants to reach for me, like he wants to demand something from me that I’m not ready to give.
I don’t go to bed.
Instead, as soon as I’ve put a reasonable distance between the both of us, I grab my phone and leave the room.
I need answers.
I need Valentina.
The thought of saying it out loud—even to her—pulls something tight in my chest, but she’s the only person I trust with this. She’s the only one who won’t shape my thoughts before I’ve even grasped the truth myself.
The mansion has settled into a hushed lull, most of the men outside, focused on the fallout of tonight’s disaster. I movethrough the corridors, down the stairs, until I reach Valentina’s suite.
I knock twice.
The door swings open almost immediately, and before I can even get a word out, Valentina’s brows pull together.
"Sofia?" Her eyes sweep over me, taking in my too-pale skin, the tension in my shoulders. "What’s wrong?"
I don’t answer until she steps aside, lets me in, and closes the door behind me.
