The guard froze in the doorway. For a heartbeat, no one moved or said anything. The monitors flickered to life again, casting a pale, accusing glow over everything.

“Sir?" The young guard’s voice trembled, breaking the long silence. His eyes darted between me and Luca, who still stood too close, shirt rumpled, expression unreadable.

Luca moved first, cool and unhurried.

“Power fluctuation," he said, straightening his collar like nothing happened. “I was running diagnostics when she walked in. Gave her quite a scare."

The guard blinked. " Ma'am?”

I force a startled little laugh, one hand brushing my hair back like a nervous guest caught in the wrong room. " I—yes. I thought it was my hallway. Must've taken the wrong turn.”

Luca shot a look that dared me to keep up the act.

The guard's suspicion flickered and faded under Luca's easy authority. " Understood sir, my apologies.”

" None needed,” Luca responded with a clipped tone. "And next time, knock before you interrupt."

The door clicked shut.

I exhaled, every nerve still trembling, Luca leaned close enough for me to feel his lips on my collarbone, with a gentle graze that very much felt like a kiss.

“You're good," he murmured, voice laced with a mixture of something forbidden that turned my heart into a beating mess, not from fear. No, far from that. From desire and excitement. “But not good enough to have him fooled for long."

He turned and left before I could respond.

The silence that followed pressed heavily on my chest.

<<<<>>>>><<<>>>

The invitation came the next evening.

A handwritten note on ivory paper, sealed with Zavier Conti's insignia.

Dinner. Private. 9pm— Z.

A summons, not a request.

I stared at it too long before deciding what to wear. A simple black silk strapless dress that touched my ankle, with a high slit up to my thighs on my right leg. Perfect for the show.

When I entered the dining hall, the air was already heavy with red wine. Zavier sat at the head of the long mahogany table, the flicker of firelight highlighting his features.

We were just the only ones at the table, no cooks or maids. Just us…

He didn't rise when I approached, not that I was expecting anything. He gestured to the seat opposite him. “You're late."

" I didn't know punctuality was part of the invitation,” I remarked sassily. Can't help it. He brings that out of me.

He shot me a warning look. Seems like someone's getting irritated by my remarks.

" It is when you're under my roof.”

I slid into the chair, keeping my spine straight and my mask in place. The maids finally emerged from the kitchen; they moved like ghosts, placing plates of roasted lamb and wine before us before vanishing.

For a moment, the only sound was the faint crackle of the fire, all the way from the fireplace.

He finally spoke. " The guards say you've been… restless lately."

Who wouldn't be? I mean, who likes being locked up?

" I don't like being locked up,” I voiced evenly. "It makes me feel like a suspect. It's not a very good feeling you know." I scrunched my nose in distaste.

His lips twitched. " Everyone here is a suspect. Including me.”

He raised his glass, and the light caught the whiskey like liquid amber. " Tell me, Alessia, are you still loyal to your father's world… or to mine?”

A loaded question, softly spoken.

" I didn't think loyalty could be bought,” I replied. He's probing.

“Everything can be bought. Even silence. Especially silence."

He leaned back in his chair, eyes never leaving me. There was a quiet, deliberate patience in him— the kind that made people confess before even being asked.

“I don't believe in silence," I stated, meeting his stare. " I believe in truth.”

He smiled, that slow and unsettling kind. “Do you?"

I held his gaze, even as my pulse skittered. " Yes.”

He reached into his jacket, drew out a folded photograph, and slid it across the table toward me.

The image was grainy, black and white, but unmistakable. A shadowed figure slipping into the surveillance room two nights ago. The frame was blurry, but the outline, the dress, the posture. Could have been mine.

My throat tightened as I repositioned myself on the chair, bringing my hands down to my lap calmly. Fuck. I thought Luca handled that?

Zavier's expression didn't change. He didn't accuse. He didn't need to. The silence between us did it for him.

I lifted my chin, voice steady. “You think that's me?"

" I don't think.” He said quietly. " I know.”

The words were soft, but they hit like a gunshot. I stood up, and the chair scratched against the marbled floor, making a soft creak.

" Then why am I still sitting here?” I asked, not wanting to be here in his presence longer. Everything feels so wrong and unsettling. He was playing with me. Like a cat playing with a mouse. It's food. I hated it.

He stood, slow, graceful, dangerous. “Because I haven't decided what you are yet."

I raised a brow, the tension coiled like a living wire between us. “And what do you think I am?"

He stopped in front of me, close enough that the heat of his body pressed through the thin fabric of my dress. His voice dropped, dark and silken.

“I don't like being lied to, Dove." I whimpered from his close proximity.

The pet name hit harder than the words. His hand reached out, fingers grazed my jaw, titling my face upward. Not gentle. Not cruel. Just controlled.

For a moment, the air between us felt electric, thick with everything unsaid.

His thumb brushed my lower lip, my breath caught but I refused to step back. In seconds, he caught my jaw between his hands, so firm that I felt a pinch, then brought me closer until his breath fanned my cheek.

“You've got secrets." He murmured. “And secrets get people killed in my world."

“So do assumptions," I whispered. Already feeling the bruise forming on my jaw.

He chuckled. Low, rough, applying pressure on my jaw “Careful.”

He stepped back, the warmth of him receding like the ride. " Dinners over.”

I leaned halfway on the table, trying to catch my breath. Thinking everything was over, I turned to leave when his voice came again, quieter.

“Oh, and Alessia?"

I paused.

" You might want to thank Luca. He vouched for you.”

I froze. My fingers tightened on the back of the chair.

He smiled faintly. " You should ask yourself why he'd risk his position for you.”

And then —

The dining hall doors opened. Luca stepped inside, summoned by some invisible cue. His gaze found mine, a mix of guilt and warning.

Zavier poured himself another glass of wine, tone casual, but his eyes sharp as glass.

“Sit, Luca. We were just talking about honesty."

My pulse thundered as I glanced between them. Zavier's gaze flicked from me to Luca in a slow, deliberate, and calculating manner.

He took a sip of his drink, then smiled.

“Let's see which one of you lies better."