Elian was already dozing off on the floor when the cell door opened.
His head jerked up, his body instantly alert despite his exhaustion. The small clock on the desk read 6:47 PM. And he was surprised it was evening already.
Alessio walked in carrying something; blankets and what looked like prison uniforms folded neatly in his arms.
He didn't greet Elian, didn't even acknowledge him at first. He just moved closer and let the pile drop from his hands onto the floor in front of Elian with a deliberate thud.
"Change of clothes," Alessio announced, looking down at Elian like one might look at a stray dog. "I can't stand dirty, smelly things near me. The stench is getting unbearable."
He nudged the blankets with his foot, pushing them slightly closer to Elian.
"Those are for sleeping. I don't need you dying of cold on my floor-the smell would be worse."
Elian stared at the pile, then slowly looked up to see Alessio's face.
However, the man wasn't even looking at him anymore. He had already dismissed Elian's existence, turned away, and was walking to his bed like he had just tossed scraps to a beggar and expected gratitude.
Elian didn't know whether to be thankful for the clothes or furious at the delivery.
So he said nothing but just stared blankly at the clothing.
Alessio settled onto his bed with a satisfied sigh, stretching out like he owned the world. Which, in this cell, he did. He leaned back against the headboard, one arm behind his head, completely relaxed.
Then, without looking directly at Elian, he lifted his hand and made a lazy beckoning gesture with two fingers. Like calling a dog.
Elian's heart skipped a beat as his mind whispered; "No. Not again."
He stayed rooted to the spot.
"I'm waiting," Alessio said, still not looking at him. He examined his fingernails casually, as if Elian's obedience was so certain it didn't even require eye contact.
Elian still didn't move.
Finally, Alessio's eyes slid over to him, cold and sharp. "I don't like repeating myself. It's beneath me." His tone was conversational, almost bored.
He paused, then added with the same casual indifference one might use to discuss the weather; "Oh, and you will address me as 'sir' when you speak. Since I own you and all."
The way he said it- so matter-of-fact, so assured made Elian's blood boil.
Every fiber of his being wanted to refuse. He wanted to tell this arrogant bastard exactly what he could do with his demands.
But before Elian could open his mouth, Alessio continued, still in that maddeningly calm voice; "Of course, you could refuse. I could snap your neck right here..." He made a little twisting gesture with his hand. "...or just make your life so unbearable you will beg me to end it. Either works for me."
He smiled pleasantly, like he had just offered Elian tea.
Elian gritted his teeth so hard his jaw ached. But he got up and walked over, his entire body radiating annoyance.
Alessio turned around without being asked, presenting his back like a king expecting his servants to know their duties. "Massage. My shoulders are killing me."
He settled into position, rolling his shoulders once. "All this lying around is murder on the muscles. You understand."
Elian stared at Alessio's broad back. His mind was already devising ways to get back at him.
He placed his hands on Alessio's shoulders and immediately pressed down hard, digging his fingers in with deliberate, brutal force.
Alessio hissed sharply, his whole body going rigid. "What the hell?"
"What you asked for, of course." Elian said sweetly, pressing harder.
"I said massage, not..." Alessio's voice was strained. "...are you trying to dislocate my shoulders?" He demanded but Elian did as if he didn't hear him.
Elian kept going, kneading the muscles roughly, finding the tense spots and attacking them mercilessly.
"This is soft, sir. This is my version of soft, at least. I'm only trying to satisfy you... sir." Elian insisted, his tone dripping with false innocence.
The last word was practically spat out.
Alessio's entire back was tense now, muscles bunching with irritation. "I said do it softly-"
"I am doing it softly, sir." Elian pressed his thumbs into a particularly tight spot with savage precision. "Unless you would prefer I do it roughly? I can certainly do that instead."
Alessio's hand shot up and grabbed Elian's wrist, stopping him mid-motion. Then he turned around, his eyes blazing.
"Are you actually trying to piss me off right now?"
Elian immediately stepped back, his expression shifting to perfectly meek innocence. He even bowed slightly, the gesture so exaggerated it was clearly mocking.
"Not at all, sir. I was only trying to satisfy my master to the best of my limited abilities." He kept his eyes downcast like a servant. "Forgive me if my technique wasn't up to your refined standards."
Alessio's eyes narrowed to slits. He stared at Elian, reading every micro-expression, every hint of defiance hiding behind that false submission.
Then a slow, dangerous smile spread across his face.
"Oh, you want to play games?" Alessio leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. "How delightful. I was starting to think you would be boring."
He tilted his head, studying Elian like a particularly interesting insect. "Let's play then. I have more than five months to break that attitude." He paused and his smile widened before continuing. "And trust me... I've never lost a game I actually cared about winning."
Elian kept his expression blank, but his pulse quickened.
"Game?" He blinked innocently. "I don't know what you mean, sirrrr. I was just following your orders."
The way he said "sir" made it sound like the worst insult imaginable.
Alessio's jaw tightened. For a moment, real anger flashed across his face.
"Get away from me," he said quietly, each word clipped and controlled.
"As your lordship wishes." Elian bowed again, even lower this time, the mockery impossible to miss.
Alessio's hands clenched into fists on his knees. His mind raced through punishments he could dish out to his annoying maid; Make him kneel until his legs gave out? Deny him the blankets he had just given? Make him-
A knock on the cell door cut through his thoughts.
Both men turned as the door opened and an officer stepped inside.
"Lombardi," the officer said with obvious respect in his tone. "You have a phone call. You need to come answer it."
Alessio's entire demeanor shifted instantly. The anger smoothed away, replaced by cold, aristocratic neutrality. He stood with fluid grace, adjusting his uniform with precise movements.
But before walking out, he turned to Elian one last time.
He didn't say anything. Just looked at him with an expression that promised consequences. Then, almost as an afterthought, a small smile that didn't reach his eyes crept up his lips.
"Don't get too comfortable, *tesoro*," he said softly, the Italian endearment dripping with sarcasm. "We are going to have a very interesting conversation when I get back."
Then he strode out like he owned not just the cell, but the entire prison. The door locked behind him with a heavy click.
Elian stood there for a moment, his heart pounding.
He had won that round. He had gotten under Alessio's skin. But as he looked at the locked door, that last word echoed in his mind.
*Tesoro?*
Treasure?
Elian didn't know why, but something about the way Alessio had said it- possessive, intimate, threatening, made his stomach flip.
Why?