His Weakness

Too Close

Elena lasted exactly six hours before she tried to escape.

Not because she thought it would work.

But because she needed to prove to herself that she hadn’t already given up.

The hallway outside her room was just as silent as the one inside. Dim lighting, polished floors, doors that all looked the same. No guards in sight.

That was the first red flag.

The second was how easy it had been to open her door.

Elena moved cautiously, her bare feet making no sound against the floor as she followed the corridor. Every instinct screamed that this was wrong—that it was too easy.

Still, she kept going.

She turned a corner—

—and stopped.

He was there.

Leaning casually against the wall as if he had been waiting for her.

Alessandro.

Of course.

Heat rushed to her face—part anger, part something far more unsettling.

“You’re not very good at this,” he said calmly.

Her jaw tightened.

“You left the door unlocked.”

“Yes.”

The single word hit harder than it should have.

Her stomach twisted.

“You wanted me to try.”

“I wanted to see what you would do,” he corrected.

Silence stretched between them.

Elena forced herself to hold his gaze, even as her pulse began to pick up speed.

“And?” she challenged. “Satisfied?”

His eyes moved over her slowly.

Not rushed.

Not careless.

Deliberate.

It made her acutely aware of everything—her bare feet, the thin fabric of her clothes, the way her breathing had subtly changed.

“Not yet,” he said.

Her breath caught.

The air between them shifted—something quieter, heavier.

More dangerous.

Elena took a step back.

Big mistake.

He pushed off the wall instantly.

Closed the distance.

Now there was barely any space left between them.

Her back brushed the wall.

Trapped.

Again.

“Do you always run?” he asked, his voice lower now.

“I’m not running,” she said, even though her heart was racing.

“Then what are you doing?”

His hand came up—not touching her—but bracing against the wall beside her head.

Caging her in.

Elena swallowed.

“I’m trying to leave.”

His gaze dropped—just briefly—to her lips.

The movement was subtle.

But she noticed.

And suddenly, so did her body.

“Why?” he asked.

The question caught her off guard.

“Because you kidnapped me,” she said.

A flicker of amusement.

“Is that the only reason?”

Her breath hitched.

There was something in his tone—something that made the question feel like more than it was.

“Yes,” she said, a little too quickly.

He didn’t believe her.

She could see it in his eyes.

“Liar,” he said softly.

The word should have angered her.

Instead, it sent a strange heat curling low in her chest.

“I don’t belong here,” she insisted.

“No,” he agreed.

His voice dropped further.

“You don’t.”

His gaze held hers—steady, intense.

“Which is exactly why you’re still trying to fight it.”

The words sank into her.

Too accurate.

Too close.

Elena’s breath came faster now, and she hated that he could see it.

Hated that he was the reason for it.

“Move,” she said, even though her voice lacked its earlier strength.

He didn’t.

Instead, he leaned in—just slightly.

Not touching.

But close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath.

“You’re not afraid of me,” he murmured.

Her heart slammed harder.

“That’s not true.”

“It is.”

His eyes searched hers, like he was peeling back layers she didn’t want him to see.

“You should be,” he continued. “You’ve seen what I do.”

The memory flashed—sharp, violent.

The gunshot.

The blood.

Her stomach turned.

“I am afraid,” she said quietly.

Something changed in his expression.

Not softer.

But… more focused.

“Not enough,” he said.

And then—

he stepped back.

Just like that.

The sudden distance felt wrong.

Colder.

Elena blinked, disoriented by the shift.

“You can walk these halls,” he said, his tone returning to something controlled. “Within limits.”

Her brows drew together.

“Wh