Giovanni Moretti
I watched Alessia carefully, noting the subtle changes in her demeanor. Her shoulders tensed, her breathing quickened ever so slightly, and her eyes darted around, no longer meeting mine with the same ease as before. The playful atmosphere had shifted, charged now with an undercurrent of tension.
"Is everything alright, mia cara?" I asked, my voice low and smooth.
She nodded quickly, perhaps too quickly. "Of course," she replied, but her smile didn't quite reach her eyes.
I leaned back, giving her space while maintaining an air of casual control. "You seem... tense," I observed, taking a slow sip of wine.
Alessia's fingers tightened around her glass. "I'm fine, Mr. Moretti. Just... remembering my situation, I suppose."
The reminder of her status as my hostage hung
