Chapter Three | Shocking Truth

Chapter Three | Shocking Truth

Marianne

Sunlight filtered through the thin curtains of my room, pulling me from a night of broken sleep filled with dark eyes and whispered words I wished I could forget. My body felt heavy, the exhaustion from yesterday’s long shift still clinging to my muscles. I lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, hoping the events of last night had been some kind of fever dream.

But the low murmur of voices from the kitchen shattered that hope.

I dragged myself out of bed, running a hand through my messy hair before pulling on an oversized t-shirt and a pair of old shorts. The moment I stepped into the hallway, the rich aroma of coffee and breakfast hit me. My stomach twisted and it wasn't because I was hungry, but from nerves.

Mom’s bright laughter rang out again, making my skin crawl.

When I entered the kitchen, the scene in front of me made my steps falter. Alessandro sat at our small dining table like he belonged there, looking impossibly put-together in a crisp black button-down shirt with the top few buttons undone. His long, sleek black hair was tied back neatly, though a few rebellious strands framed his sharp, handsome face. He looked muscular, controlled and dangerous.

Mom was fluttering around him in her nicest robe, pouring coffee and placing a plate of scrambled eggs and toast in front of him with trembling hands. Her cheeks were flushed, her smile too wide.

“Good morning, sweetheart!” she said when she spotted me, her voice was overly cheerful. “Look who made us breakfast. Isn’t he amazing?”

Alessandro’s dark, piercing eyes lifted and locked onto me immediately. A slow, subtle smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Marianne. You look beautiful, even first thing in the morning.”

Heat flooded my face. I turned away quickly, busying myself with pouring a cup of coffee just to have something to do with my hands. “Morning,” I muttered.

Mom didn’t seem to notice the tension. She kept hovering near him, touching his arm lightly as she spoke. “Alessandro was just telling me about his life in Italy. He’s so successful, you know. A real man of power. Not like…” She trailed off, but we all knew what she meant.

I sat down across from him, keeping my gaze fixed on my plate. The air in the small kitchen felt thick, charged with something I didn’t want to name and every time I glanced up, his eyes were waiting for me — intense, assessing and almost hungry.

Mom continued chatting, leaning closer to him with every sentence. “You really didn’t have to do any of this. I could have taken care of everything. I’ve always been good at looking after strong men like you.”

Alessandro gave her a polite nod, but his replies were short. His attention never stayed on her for long. It kept drifting back to me, unrelenting. I shifted in my seat, suddenly very aware of how little I was wearing, how my t-shirt clung to my body, how my legs were bare under the table.

“You’re quiet today,” he observed, his deep voice smooth like velvet. “Did you sleep well?”

I shrugged, pushing my eggs around with my fork. “Not really.”

Mom jumped in again, trying too hard. “She’s always like this in the mornings. Grumpy, just like her father used to be. But she’ll warm up to you, Alessandro. I told her how you could help us. How influential you are. How you could change everything for us.”

The words made my stomach turn. I gripped my mug tighter.

Alessandro set his fork down slowly. He leaned back in his chair, his broad shoulders filling the space, and looked at my mother with cool, detached politeness.

“Elena,” he said, “I appreciate your hospitality. The breakfast, the warm welcome ... .but I think it’s time we speak honestly.”

Mom blinked, her smile faltering slightly. “Honest? What do you mean?”

I froze, my heart beginning to pound.

Alessandro’s gaze shifted from her to me. His dark eyes burned with intensity, sending a shiver racing down my spine. The kitchen felt smaller and the air thicker.

What was he going to say? And why was he staring at me like that for God's sake!

“I didn’t come here for a reunion with my brother’s widow,” he said, his voice steady and merciless. “I didn’t come to offer charity, or empty words, or to play the role of a generous relative.”

Mom’s face paled, her hands trembling as she set down the coffee pot. “Then… Why did you come, Alessandro?”

He didn’t look at her. His eyes stayed locked on mine, dark and possessive, as if no one else in the room existed.

“I came for Marianne.”