Chapter 5 - Playing with Fire
"I... I couldn't sleep," I stammered, forcing my voice to sound small, trembling, and innocent. I wrapped my arms around my waist, hugging myself as if I were just a cold, lonely girl lost in a huge house. "I came down to get a glass of water."
Alessandro reached me in three long strides. He didn't look angry, but his amber eyes searched my pale face with an intensity that made me feel entirely exposed.
"You're shaking," he said softly. He reached out, his warm, large hands wrapping around my cold fingers. "Are you in pain? Is something wrong with the baby?"
"No," I lied quickly, looking down at our joined hands so he wouldn't see the terror in my eyes. "No, the baby is fine. I just... I had a nightmare. This house is so big, Alessandro. I feel like a ghost wandering around in it."
Alessandro looked at me for a long moment. He turned his head toward Marco, who was standing in the library doorway watching us with sharp, suspicious eyes.
"That will be all for tonight, Marco," Alessandro said, dismissively. "We will resume our meeting tomorrow morning at the office."
"Yes, Mr. Vitali," Marco bowed slightly, giving me one last lingering, analytical look before walking down the corridor toward the security wing.
Once Marco was gone, Alessandro turned back to me. Without a word, he took my hand and led me down the hallway, not toward the grand staircase, but toward the grand kitchen at the back of the mansion.
The kitchen was massive, lined with stainless steel commercial appliances and dark granite countertops. Alessandro guided me to a high stool at the center island, then walked over to the refrigerator.
He pulled out a glass bottle of organic milk, poured some into a small saucepan, and turned on the gas stove.
I watched him in stunned silence. The multi-billionaire titan of Chicago real estate was standing in a quiet kitchen at midnight, heating milk on the stove for a diner waitress in an oversized sweater.
"Warm milk helps with insomnia," Alessandro said quietly, stirring the milk with a silver spoon. "My mother used to make it for me when I was a boy, whenever the storms off the lake were too loud."
"You talk about your mother a lot," I murmured, watching the flickering blue flame beneath the pot. "Where is she?"
Alessandro’s hand paused for a fraction of a second before he resumed stirring. "She passed away when I was twelve. Cancer. My father was always busy managing the family business, so... it was mostly just her and me in this house."
He poured the warm milk into a ceramic mug and brought it over to me, setting it down on the granite counter. He didn't leave. He stood right beside my stool, leaning his hip against the island, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his body.
"I know this is difficult for you, Emma," Alessandro said, his voice dropping into a low, intimate murmur. "I know I forced you here. I know you miss your life, your school, and..." He paused, his jaw tightening slightly. "...your roommate."
"Liam is my family, Alessandro," I said softly, taking a small sip of the warm milk. "He's the only person who cared whether I lived or died for four years."
Alessandro’s amber eyes flicked to mine, a dark, complex emotion swirling in their depths.
"You have me now," Alessandro said firmly, his voice laced with an unyielding possessiveness that took my breath away. "You and the child will never be alone again. I will provide everything you could ever need—safety, wealth, status, protection."
"I don't care about wealth or status, Alessandro!" I said, looking up at him, my heart aching with the weight of my secrets. "I just wanted a normal life! I wanted to finish nursing school, get a job at a hospital, and live without being afraid of what tomorrow brings!"
Alessandro reached out, his long fingers gently tucking a strand of dark hair behind my ear. His fingers lingered on the sensitive skin of my neck, sending a shiver straight down my spine.
"You were never meant for a simple, ordinary life, Emma," he murmured, leaning down until his lips were inches from mine. "The moment you stepped into Room 1520, your fate became tied to mine."
My breath hitched. I should have pulled away. I should have remembered the Vance ledgers, the corporate war, the lies. But as his dark, amber eyes held mine, the sheer magnetic gravity of his presence pulled me in.
He leaned down and pressed his lips gently against mine.
The kiss was slow, deep, and intoxicatingly tender. It tasted of warm milk, cedar, and dangerous promises. My hands automatically rose, resting against his broad chest, feeling the heavy, thunderous beat of his heart beneath his fine shirt.
For a few breathtaking seconds, I let myself forget who I was. I wasn't Elizabeth Vance, the whistleblower's daughter hiding from the law. I was just a woman held by a man who looked at her as if she were the most precious thing in his vast, lonely world.
When he finally pulled back, his breathing was shallow, his eyes dark with restrained desire. He rested his forehead against mine.
"Go back to bed, Emma," he whispered softly, his thumb tracing my lower lip. "Before I forget that you need your rest."
I nodded, unable to speak, and quickly fled the kitchen.
As I lay in the massive bed in my suite, staring up at the high ceiling, my hand rested on my stomach. The baby was growing inside me, a living link between the Vitali empire and the Vance tragedy.
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I realized then that I was playing a game of high-stakes poker with the most dangerous man in Chicago. And if I lost, I wouldn't just lose my freedom.
I would lose my heart.
