The heat between us was suffocating, and I yanked my wrist free from his grasp, stepping back as if I could put distance between his arrogance and my spiraling emotions.
“I want to speak to my father,” I blurted, my voice coming out sharp.
Alessio’s brow arched, his expression flickering with curiosity before settling into something cooler. “Your father?”
“Yes, my father,” I snapped, crossing my arms. “Or is that too much to ask from the man who controls every second of my life?”
His smirk returned, lazy and maddening. “Why?”
“Why do you think?” I shot back. “I want to know if he’s suffering the way I am.”
Alessio leaned against the desk, his arms crossed over his bare chest as he studied me. His silence made my stomach twist, and I hated the way his gaze felt like it could peel bac
