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“Orlov has left the country. Surely, I’m safe.”
“Until my people send me proof of him in Russia, I’m not trusting anything I hear. I have ears across the world. Soon, I’ll track him down.”
“But I’m losing myself,” I counter, feeling a desperate need to make him understand. “I feel like I’m just an object you’re trying to protect, not a person who needs to live.”
Alessandro pauses, his brow furrowing slightly. “You are much more to me than just someone I need to protect,” he says earnestly. “But I can’t risk losing you. You’ve become... important to me.”
His words should reassure me, but they only serve to emphasize the reality of my situation. “But at what cost, Alessandro? My freedom? My sense of self?”
He steps closer, his gaze intense. “I can’t pretend to understand what this is like for you, but please try to understand my position. This is not just about what I want; it’s about keeping you out of harm’s way.”
“And what if I can’t live like this?” I ask, my voice trembling with emotion.
His expression hardens slightly, a stern edge creeping into his voice. “There will be consequences that you may not like.”
The warning in his voice sends a chill down my spine. I can see the sincerity in his eyes, the genuine concern, but it’s overshadowed by the firmness of his stance.
In this moment, I realize the full extent of the power he holds over people, why he’s in charge. It’s not just physical; it’s emotional, psychological.
“It’s time for supper,” he continues, taking my hand in his. He leads me into the conservatory, a stunning space surrounded by the moonlit gardens, their beauty visible through the glass walls. The table is set intimately for two, the soft glow of candles flickering in the gentle breeze.
As we sit down, Alessandro pours a glass of wine for each of us. “I’ve been distant,” he says. “I apologize.”
“You can’t distract me with alcohol. I want to go outside,” I insist, my resolve strengthening with each word, craving a change of scenery and the chance to escape the confines of this place.
Alessandro’s frustration becomes evident as he responds, “I cannot allow that,” his voice firm, his eyes reflecting his desire to maintain control.
I step closer to him, refusing to yield. “Why not?” I challenge, my tone tinged with defiance. “Are you planning to keep me locked up here forever?”
He takes a moment to consider my question, his irritation subsiding slightly. “If you weren’t trapped here,” he begins, his voice more measured, “would you stay?”
I’m surprised by the change in direction of our conversation. “I... I don’t know,” I admit cautiously, choosing my words carefully. “Why do you ask?”
Alessandro takes a deep breath, his demeanor softening as he reveals a vulnerable side. “I know I’m not a good man,” he confesses, his gaze searching mine. “I get angry, impatient. I’m used to being in command, giving orders, and having them obeyed. I see the fear in your eyes when you look at me.”
I hold his gaze with determination. “It’s not you I’m afraid of,” I declare, my voice steady. “I see power when I look at you, but also intellect and gentleness.”
I reach out, placing my hand on his. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone about your softer side. I’m not afraid of you. I’m afraid that this is just a game to you, that you’ll get bored of me and toss me aside.”
Alessandro’s frown deepens as he contemplates my words, and the tension between us hangs heavy in the air. “That will never happen,” he says at last.
I speak, my voice low but resolute. “For a marriage to work, there must be compromise, discussion, and negotiation, with both parties willing to make concessions.”
“Not while Orlov is alive. As long as he poses a threat to us, we can’t afford to spend time negotiating.”
He gestures for me to follow him, and we make our way to the chess board in the dining room, supper forgotten.
“I’ll let you take the first move,” Alessandro graciously offers, his confidence showing in his subtle smile.
I hesitate for a moment, studying the chessboard with a beginner’s uncertainty. “This one?” I inquire tentatively, moving a pawn forward.
Alessandro nods approvingly, his encouragement evident. “Exactly,” he says, his tone supportive. “Now, let the game begin.”
As we engage in our first match, I can sense Alessandro’s confidence in his abilities. His years of experience and strategic thinking are evident in the way he plans his moves, positioning his pieces carefully on the board.
I can’t help but feel like an amateur facing a grandmaster as the chessboard transforms into a battlefield of strategy and wits. Our moves and countermoves create an intricate dance, with Alessandro seemingly in control, his pieces advancing methodically.
After several tense exchanges, I see my chance. I make a move that takes Alessandro by surprise. “Where did you learn that?” he asks, his brow furrowing as I lift his leading rook off the board.
