Alessia's POV
Dante's words still echoed in my mind.
"Your father."
Why would he bring up my father? He was dead. And why the hell would he even ask me that? Was this another one of his games? A cruel way to unnerve me? It shouldn't have worked, but the way he said it, like he knew something I didn't, unsettled me.
I tried to shake it off as I returned to Marco's penthouse that evening, but my mind kept circling back. I had to stay focused. Dante was a distraction, he always had been.
When I stepped inside, Marco was waiting, sitting on the couch like a king surveying his kingdom. His gaze swept over me, slow and considering the way one might assess a piece of art before deciding where to place it.
"Rough day?" he asked, his voice smooth, teasing.
I forced a smirk. "You tell me. You probably had someone tailing me all day."
His lips twitched. "Maybe. But I prefer hearing it from you."
