BIKER PRESIDENT'S CURVY SECRET OBSESSION

REALITY CHECK

"You ate half a plate of rubbery eggs just to survive the morning, but you need real protein if you are going to keep running," he pointed out, gesturing toward the steak with a nod of his head.

"I don't owe you an explanation for my diet, and I definitely don't owe you anything for paying my bill at the register," I snapped, feeling the exhausted tears prick the corners of my eyes.

"Mark always used expensive dinners to hold power over me, and I refuse to let another man trap me in that same toxic cycle just because I am down on my luck," I added, refusing to break eye contact with him.

Alessandro sighed and rubbed his jaw, clearly understanding exactly why I was fighting him so hard over a simple plate of breakfast food.

He did not get angry at my accusations, and he did not try to convince me he was a nice guy who just wanted to help a stranger.

"I am not Mark, and I don't give a damn about controlling you or buying your affection," he said, keeping his voice incredibly calm while I unraveled across the table from him.

"But you are sitting here arguing with me over twenty bucks while the man you ran from is currently turning this city upside down to find you," he warned, leaning forward to close the distance between us.

My breath hitched in my throat, and the stubborn anger drained out of my body the moment he mentioned Mark hunting me down.

"What do you mean he is turning the city upside down?" I asked, my voice trembling as I uncrossed my arms and leaned closer to the table to hear him better.

Alessandro took a sip of his black coffee and set the mug down, folding his hands together while he delivered the brutal truth.

"My Vice President monitors the local police scanners to keep an eye on our neighborhood, and your name popped up on the dispatch board about three hours ago," he explained, watching my face carefully to gauge my reaction.

"Mark reported your car stolen, and he flagged every single piece of identification attached to your social security number," Alessandro continued, confirming my absolute worst fears.

I felt the blood drain from my face, leaving my skin cold and clammy as the true scope of Mark's trap closed in around me.

"I bought that car with my own money before I even met him," I stuttered, shaking my head because the blatant lie felt like a punch to the gut.

"My name is on the title, so he cannot just call the police and say I stole it," I argued, desperately hoping there was a limit to what his family could get away with.

"He can do whatever he wants because his father owns half the judges in this state, and they will sign any warrant he puts on their desk," Alessandro countered, shutting down my naive hope with a dose of harsh reality.

"If you try to buy a bus ticket with your name, or if a cop runs your plates on the highway, they are going to arrest you for grand theft auto and drag you right back to him," he added, making sure I understood the gravity of my situation.

I covered my mouth with my hand to muffle a broken sob, realizing I was truly trapped in this gritty industrial district with no money and a fake felony charge hanging over my head.

Mark possessed enough wealth to pay off the best lawyers in the state, so he could easily throw me in a jail cell and leave me there until I agreed to play the role of the perfect, silent wife.

He wanted to break my spirit and humiliate me in front of the entire city, punishing me for daring to walk out on his twisted, fake life.

"I have nowhere to go, and I can't even call a women's shelter because he shut off my phone service," I whispered, staring blindly at the plate of food while the hot tears finally spilled down my cheeks.

My chest heaved as I realized my old life was erased overnight by a man who just wanted to cover up his dirty secrets.

Alessandro reached into the front pocket of his faded jeans and pulled out a small rectangular box, setting it down on the table between us.

He pushed the cardboard box across the laminate surface until it bumped against my wrist, and I saw the picture of a cheap, prepaid cellular device printed on the top.

It was a burner phone bought with untraceable cash, the kind of device criminals used to avoid being tracked by the authorities.

"Mark Hayes froze your life, and you are officially off the grid now," Alessandro said, his deep voice leaving absolutely no room for doubt or argument. "Eat the damn eggs, Chiara. You need your strength."