Boss.The word hit my chest like a weight.
They didn’t look at me again as they left.The men who stayed behind cut me loose and hauled me to my feet.My legs were jelly, my wrists raw.
A woman appeared at the door.I stared — she looked out of place here.Her clothes were straight out of another century, something between a maid’s uniform and a funeral dress.Maybe mid-thirties, maybe older, definitely not from around here.
She didn’t speak at first, just led me through the hall until we stopped in front of a massive room.
It was...beautiful.Old furniture, polished floors, a chandelier that could’ve cost a house.Way too elegant for a prisoner.
“Here,” she said finally, her accent thick but her tone soft.“Take these.”She handed me a towel and folded clothes.“Clean yourself.When you’re done, get dressed and wait.I’ll come take you back.”
“Okay.Thank you,” I whispered, my voice cracking.
I showered — hot water burning across bruises, washing blood down the drain.The clothes she gave me were soft, expensive, not something I’d ever wear, but I put them on anyway.Then I sat.Waiting.
Time blurred.I didn’t know how long I’d been in that room — minutes, hours.I thought about running, but I didn’t even know where I was.The mansion was a maze, and the guards outside the door weren’t exactly the forgiving type.
And then there was Matt.My chest clenched.I didn’t know if he was alive or dead, and the thought twisted my gut.
Mom.
Fuck.Mom would be losing her mind right now.I just prayed she’d called the cops, though I doubted they’d get anywhere near this place.
The door opened again, and I jumped.
“Follow me,” the woman said.“Please don’t run.We’re not here to harm you.”
Her words soothed me for a second — but only a second.My brain didn’t believe them.
We walked through long, echoing halls.Marble floors, gold-framed paintings, tall windows that stared out at acres of green.This wasn’t a house; this was a fortress disguised as art.
We turned into a new hallway, and voices reached my ears — sharp, angry, distant.Male.Italian.The tone alone was enough to make my heart trip in my chest.
Every step I took made my stomach twist tighter.I’d barely escaped death once.If this was where it ended, it would be the cruelest fucking irony imaginable.
Because deep down, I had a feeling.A gut-twisting, soul-burning feeling.
Once we reached the end of the hall, the woman told me to wait.I did, quietly, until my eyes drifted left — and that’s when I saw him.
For a second, I thought my brain was playing tricks again.But then the air left my lungs, my pulse stuttered, and the name slipped out in a whisper that barely left my lips.
“Alessandro...”
My body went still.My heart dropped to the pit of my stomach.
It couldn’t be.
But it was.
The last time I’d seen him, he was half-dead — bloodied, cold, his pulse fading under my shaking hands.I told myself for years that he’d survived, that he couldn’t be gone.But believing something and seeing it are two different kinds of pain.
Now he was here.Alive.Breathing.Real.
And fuck, he looked...different.
He stood across the room, his side profile carved sharp against the light pouring through the tall window.Tailored suit.Shoulders broader, presence heavier.The kind of man people feared to disappoint.My chest tightened as I watched him move, confirming what my mind refused to.
He was Alessandro.
