The hotel suite was bigger than most apartments. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked Central Park, furniture that cost more than cars, and enough security outside the door to protect a small country.
Elena felt like a prisoner. A very pampered, very well-guarded prisoner.
"You need to eat more," her father said for the third time that morning. He pushed a plate of eggs toward her. "You're too thin."
"Papa, I'm fine."
"You're not fine. Look at these dark circles." Salvatore gestured at her face. "That man didn't take care of you."
Elena bit back a sigh. Her family had been hovering over her since last night. Matteo checked the locks on her bedroom door twice. Lorenzo insisted on testing all the food before she ate it. Giovanni physically inspected every corner of the suite for threats.
