Alessia Mancini
For the next few minutes, we put on a performance worthy of any Hollywood romance. Giovanni fed me bites of tiramisu, his fingers lingering on my lips. I laughed at his jokes, my hand resting on his arm. To any observer, we were the picture of a couple deeply in love.
But beneath the facade, my mind raced. Who was watching us? What were their true motives? And how deep did this web of intrigue truly go?
When Nico returned ten minutes later, the gravity in his expression made my stomach clench. He handed me back my phone, open to a new image.
I studied the photo, my blood running cold. A man with a scorpion tattoo curling up his neck, his face partially obscured but unmistakable to those who knew what to look for.
Meeting Giovanni's intense gaze, I whispered, "It's one
