Page 15 of Twisted Addiction
“Now.” His tone was light, playful even, but his eyes told another story—sharp and insistent.
“There’s a restaurant up the road. Quiet. No Dmitri. No eyes. Just us.”
I hadn’t even known there was a restaurant tucked into this part of Lake Como. Maybe that meant there was still more to uncover here—hidden corners, secrets waiting to be pried open.
At least I’d explore them before I planned my escape.
And how much did Alexei know about this place, about me, about everything Dmitri controlled?
Every instinct screamed at me to keep driving, to stay the course back to the mansion. But then came that other voice—the one that whispered of rebellion, of curiosity, of the unbearable weight of always obeying.
“Okay.” The word slipped out before I could stop it, tasting like betrayal on my tongue.
His grin deepened, before he pressed on the accelerator. The silver car surged ahead, and I found myself trailing him, my chest tight, my stomach knotted.
Minutes later, he guided me into the underground garage of a low-slung building half-cloaked in ivy.
Elegant, discreet, designed to swallow secrets whole. The dim lights buzzed overhead as I parked the SUV beside his car.
I stepped out, the air cool and damp against my skin.
He was already leaning against his car, casual, like time bent for him alone.
The moment I stepped out, his eyes locked on mine—unblinking, unreadable—and a cold awareness slid through me.
Too late, I realized I might’ve walked straight into the wolf’s den.
The garage wasn’t empty; a few sleek cars were scattered around, silent proof of wealth.
But that did nothing to ease the knot in my stomach. Alexei knew this territory better than I did, every corner, every shadow. And if he wanted to twist this moment, turn it against me—who here would care enough to intervene?
Alexei pushed off the car with a slow, deliberate grace, his smile curling like smoke.
His stride was confident, predatory, the kind that drew the eye even when you wanted to look away.
“I’m sure you didn’t drag me here for dinner talk, Alexei. What is it you really want to discuss?” I asked, falling into step beside him as we approached the restaurant’s entrance.
He didn’t answer, just flashed that sly smile and held the glass door open with a mocking tilt of his head, like I was stepping into a trap he’d set hours ago.
Inside, the world changed. The air smelled of garlic and herbs, the lighting soft and golden, wood polished to a gleam. Warm. Inviting. Deceptive.
We were led to a corner table, tucked far from prying eyes.
Only after the waiter drifted away did Alexei lean in, elbows resting on the table, his voice dropping low.
“I’ve heard things,” he said, each word deliberate.
“That you never wanted this marriage. That Dmitri forced you into it. Which—” his mouth curved in a thin, ironic smile “—isn’t just immoral. It’s illegal here. By law, you should’ve been sent back to New York. But you weren’t, were you?” He paused, eyes narrowing as if studying my pulse. “No... Dmitri made sure you stayed. He bent rules, bought people, twisted the system. Some of it clean. Most of it not.”
My stomach tightened.
I leaned back, arms folded, a shield I hoped would feel sturdier than it did.
“So what?” My voice came out flat, wary. “You think I didn’t know he’d pull strings to keep me here? Dmitri doesn’t bend—he breaks. That’s who he is.”
Alexei’s smile thinned, folding into something almost businesslike. The predatory edge was still there, but beneath a lawyer’s calm. “Exactly,” he said. “He breaks people, Penelope. But law and reputation—those are things even Dmitri can’t crush without consequence. I’m offering you the hammer.”
He watched me as the words settled, measuring which part of me would crack first. Then he steepled his fingers, voice precise.“I can file for divorce and represent you. If Dmitri refuses to sign, I’ll serve him papers. He’ll have to answer in court—publicly. I’ll build the case so his influence can’t shield him. If the court dissolves the marriage, you’ll be free. Free to leave. Or free to stay.”
