Dinner was already on the table by the time Elena came downstairs, and Luca, unsurprisingly, was already there, relaxed in his seat and pouring himself some juice like he didn't have a single worry in the world. Honestly, he always looked like that, completely unbothered, like stress had never once found him and never would. Lucky guy indeed.
He glanced up as she walked in, a grin spreading easily across his face.
"You look better than this morning, Elena."
"Thank you, Luca," she replied dryly, pulling out her chair and sitting down.
"I'm serious, the Sofia effect is real. You should go out more often."
That earned a quiet exhale that almost turned into a laugh. Elena reached for her glass of water, but the moment didn't last because she heard footsteps behind her and instantly knew who it was.
Alessandro.
She didn't turn around. She didn't even need to, and still her heart gave a sudden heavy thud at his presence alone. She rolled her eyes at herself. Get a grip Elena.
He pulled out his chair and sat down. Luca moved on quickly, launching into some story about news from Rome involving a car taking a wrong turn and a woman he kept frustratingly vague about. Elena followed along, laughing here and there, asking a few questions, playing her part easily enough, but something kept pulling at the edge of her attention.
Alessandro had checked his phone more times than she could count.
It was odd. She reached for her glass again, trying to let it go but not quite managing it. He was quiet too, which wasn't unusual in itself, but tonight there was something different about it, like whatever he wasn't saying was sitting heavy on him.
She let her eyes flick toward him for just a second before quickly looking away. It was enough for Luca to notice though.
Elena picked up her fork, suddenly very aware of the warmth rising to her cheeks.
"So Elena," Luca said, far too casually to be innocent, "did Sofia ask a lot of questions?"
"Of course. She always does."
"And you told her?" One brow lifted slightly.
"Nothing," Elena replied with a small shrug.
Luca nodded slowly and for just a moment his gaze shifted toward his brother, something passing between them like a silent conversation before he smoothed it away. "Good. Some things are better kept private."
Alessandro didn't react. He just continued cutting into his food with that distant, absent look on his face that Elena had been trying very hard not to study.
She looked at him again anyway. The set of his jaw. The rigid posture. His wine glass sitting completely untouched, which more than anything else made her pause because that was never the case. He almost always reached for his wine first. So what was different today?
Her gaze dropped back to her plate.
It's none of your business, she told herself firmly. You don't care and you're not going to ask.
She held onto that right up until Luca excused himself after dessert with some vague mention of a phone call, leaving the two of them alone at the table.
Alessandro was looking at his phone fully now.
Elena let out a small breath. "What's wrong?"
He looked up.
"Something is wrong," she continued, keeping her voice steady. "You've checked your phone countless times during dinner and you haven't touched your wine. Is everything okay?"
He looked at her for a moment, then placed his phone face down on the table. He almost laughed. Since when did she care about his business? He thought she hated him.
"Nothing is wrong."
"Alessandro."
"Elena."
The way he said her name made it clear whatever door she had tried to open was already shut. She leaned back slightly, studying his face for a second before deciding to change direction.
"Whatever then. I want to go out tomorrow," she said, keeping her tone casual. "There's a bookshop near the Duomo I've been thinking about."
Alessandro's expression darkened immediately. "Not tomorrow."
Her brows drew together. "Why? You said—"
"Just not tomorrow Elena."
"You said I could go out as long as I wasn't alone," she pressed, frustration slipping in now.
"I know what I said."
"So then why—"
"Elena." He called out sternly.
There it was, that damn attitude. She held his gaze, searching his face. What was wrong with this man? He was the one keeping her here in this beautiful prison and now he was getting irritated over something so simple? Pathetic.
She wanted to grab his head and slam it into the table. Instead she reached for her wine glass.
"Fine," she said lightly. "Not tomorrow then." She had the urge to ask when but one look at his face told her now was not the time.
He nodded once and picked up his phone again.
Elena stayed where she was, finishing her wine, watching him despite every intention not to. The realization settled in slowly and uncomfortably.
Three days ago this man had been a complete stranger who had walked into her life and flipped it upside down without a second thought.
Now she was reading his expressions from across a dinner table like she had known him for years.
What the hell.
That was a problem. She knew it was a problem. She just had no idea when it had become one.
She was still awake at midnight.
She had tried everything. Reading, her laptop, staring at the ceiling like it might somehow have answers. Nothing worked. So she lay there in the quiet of the room with nothing but her thoughts for company.
"Not tomorrow," she muttered, mimicking him, sucking air through her teeth. "Ugh, I hate this."
She kicked her feet against the mattress like that would help somehow and then flopped onto her side, her gaze settling on nothing in particular.
Her thoughts drifted whether she wanted them to or not, moving from one thing to the next, all of them circling back to him. The untouched wine and The way he had said her name so sternly.
She pressed her face into the pillow.
Somewhere between getting into that car and sitting at that dinner table tonight she had stopped thinking about leaving. She was only three days in. What the hell!
Three days! What on earth was happening to her?!
She genuinely had no idea what she was supposed to do with that.