Alessia Mancini
The garden air was heavy with the scent of jasmine as we stepped outside. Twilight painted the sky in shades of lavender and gold, casting long shadows across the manicured lawn. I felt a chill that had nothing to do with the evening breeze.
"How exactly does it depend on me?" I asked, my voice steadier than I felt. My fingers tightened involuntarily on Giovanni's arm, betraying my tension.
He guided me along a winding path, past meticulously pruned topiaries and softly burbling fountains. The beauty of it all felt surreal, a stark contrast to the danger I knew lurked beneath the surface.
"It depends," Giovanni said slowly, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through me, "on how long it takes you to make back that money your father owes."
I swallowed hard, re
