Alessia blinked and asked again, slower this time, as if her mind needed more time to catch up. "You—what? You knew?"
Luca's smile wasn't cruel, but it was cold, faint and sharp like a blade you only see once it's pressed against your throat. "Of course I knew, cara mia."
He turned away from her, his every movement deliberate, precise, as though he had practiced this moment long ago. He walked to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a glass of scotch with unnerving calm, like they weren't discussing betrayal, espionage, and broken trust.
Alessia's breath hitched. Her heart pounded against her ribs like a prisoner rattling its cage, desperate to be free.
"You're scaring me."
"Good." He sipped slowly, savoring the burn. Then he turned to face her, his eyes unreadable. "It means you're beginning to understand the kind of man I am."
