Alessia Mancini
I held Giovanni's intense gaze, my heart racing. For the first time since I'd been brought to his villa, I felt truly seen. Not as a pawn, not as collateral, but as myself - the woman who had been forged in the fires of my father's mistakes.
"You're looking at me differently," I said softly, unable to keep a slight tremor from my voice. The weight of his dark eyes seemed to pierce right through me, stripping away the layers of careful facade I'd built up over the years.
Giovanni leaned forward, his elbows on the polished mahogany of his desk. "Perhaps I am," he murmured. "Tell me, Alessia, how many other powerful people have you outmaneuvered?"
I laughed, but it was a brittle sound. "Enough to know better than to answer that question, Signor Moretti."
The corner of his
