Luca unfolded the delicate page slowly, the paper crackling beneath his fingers.
A map hand-drawn, inked with strange glyphs and markings that shimmered faintly in the light.
He'd seen it before.
Not in a dream. Not in a nightmare.
In his father's hands, days before his death.
His gaze snapped to Alessia, and something sharp flickered in his eyes part betrayal, part alarm, part hunger.
She shifted, clutching the blanket tighter.
He stepped closer.
Her breath hitched.
"Where did you get this?" His voice was soft. Too soft.
"I—I didn't mean to lie," she stammered.
But it was too late for denial.
Luca was in front of her now, looming. He dropped the page on the nightstand and reached for her. One hand slid around the back of her neck, Not in anger, but in a dominant grip, sensual and electrifying. His thumb brushed her jawline, his fingers tangled in her hair.
"Look straight into my eyes," he commanded, voice a growl laced with possessive fury. "Never lie to Daddy."
