What Sophia could think of, he had already considered. She wasn't as thorough as him and was always one step behind.
Fortunately, there was a robe hanging in the closet. Sophia grabbed one and put it on, so she wouldn't be left unclothed.
Just as she finished dressing, the doorbell suddenly rang. Without thinking much, Sophia walked over to open the door, but Capone grabbed her arm from behind.
He had just come out of the bathroom, not even having time to get dressed. He was only wearing a towel wrapped around his waist, his upper body bare, with droplets of water still sliding down his skin.
"You don't even know who it is, and you're going to open the door?" he lightly scolded, pulling her behind him to shield her with his body, while holding a gun in his other hand.
He actually had a gun? From the island to the hotel, even when they were intimately close, Sophia hadn't noticed he was armed. But now, there it was in his hand—a black handgun pointed downward, likely the same one he had pressed against her waist on the day she was kidnapped.
Sophia instinctively felt a sense of aversion and fear toward the weapon, and his serious expression made her realize they still faced dangers similar to that day. Yet, despite everything, he was so close to her, his body heat and scent mingling with the green tea fragrance of his shower gel, that it oddly made her feel safe.
It was as if, with him there, she had nothing to fear.
Capone cautiously opened the door, initially surprised by who was outside, but then he quickly relaxed.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, putting the gun away.
The person at the door was Penny. When Sophia saw her, the images of Penny and Capone being intimate at the villa flashed back into her mind. She stood there, unsure of how to react.
"I heard you were resting after drinking, so I brought some hangover soup and snacks," Penny said, her gaze quickly sweeping over Sophia. Without waiting for an invitation, she walked in, carrying the items she had brought.
Sophia took a step back, pulling her robe tighter around herself. She was scared, afraid that Capone might, on a whim, want to engage in another debauched threesome like that night.
Capone noticed what she was thinking, but he seemed disinterested, even coldly dismissive as he said to Penny, "Hmm, you're thoughtful. Just leave the stuff and go. I have guests in the Moonlake Hall—make sure they're well taken care of. I'll join them shortly."
Penny obediently followed his instructions. The lingering scent of their previous activities was still in the room, and with Capone and Sophia looking the way they did, it was obvious what had happened between them. But Penny didn't ask any questions; she simply placed the items down and left.
Capone casually picked up a fresh, plump strawberry and brought it to Sophia's lips. "Open your mouth."
Sophia turned her head away. "I don't want it! It's dirty!"
Her refusal wasn't just because the snacks had been prepared by a woman of the night, but also because his hand had just been holding a gun—a cold-blooded weapon that might have taken countless lives.
Capone didn't waste words. He pinched her jaw, and as soon as she opened her mouth, he tossed the strawberry in, then covered her lips with his.
The small organic strawberry was bursting with sweet juice, which quickly mingled between their lips as they kissed, the vibrant red juice dripping down the corners of their mouths.
Capone pulled back, smacking his lips, and wiped the red stains from the corner of her mouth. "Tastes great. I wouldn't mind feeding you like this, one by one."
Fuming, Sophia grabbed the small basket of snacks and strawberries and retreated to the inner room.
She sat on the bed, stuffing food into her mouth. It wasn't that she wasn't hungry—she just didn't like the way this man forced things on her.
"Drink this too. You won't have a headache tomorrow."
Sophia glanced at the hangover soup he was offering, finding the situation somewhat amusing. "Aren't you afraid there's poison in this? Or are you just making me your poison tester?"
She could be treated like a little rabbit, or just as easily like a lab rat.
"Penny wouldn't do such a thing," he said as he sat down beside her. "Of all the women who've been in my bed, you're probably the only one who's ever wanted to kill me."
Sophia's hand, which was holding a strawberry, paused as she turned to glare at him.
"What, did I say something wrong?" He grabbed her hand and popped the strawberry from her fingertips into his mouth, his tongue lingering suggestively on her delicate fingers. "You didn't think you were the only woman I've ever been with, did you? So what if she's been in my bed? At least she didn't call out another man's name while in it! What makes you so much better than her, hmm?"
Sophia froze. Had she really called out someone else's name?
"Who is that man?" He grabbed her small chin, coldly pressing for an answer.
"You heard wrong! I didn't call out anyone else's name!" She had been thinking about Roger, and she wasn't sure if she had unintentionally let something slip. But she remembered what Roger had told her—under no circumstances should she drag him into this.
"Oh? Is that so?" Capone didn't seem convinced. Not that it mattered—he knew he'd eventually find a way to learn the name of the man in her heart. "Then say my name."
"What? You… I'm not going to… mm—"
Her protest was cut off as his lips forcefully claimed hers, skillfully stealing the strawberry from her mouth.
"Say my name!"
"No, you bastard! Let go of me!" Sophia tried to hit and bite him, but it was no use. She was quickly overpowered and pinned down on the bed.
His kiss was deep and long, leaving her breathless. When he finally let her catch a breath, he relentlessly demanded, "Say my name!"
Sophia, feeling completely cornered and overwhelmed by the heat and aggression of his body, had no choice but to yield, whispering, "Capone…"
Her voice was soft, tinged with both grievance and a hint of laziness, like a wildfire igniting his blood in an instant.
No other woman had ever dared to call him by his full name like this—only she had the nerve, and that made her special.
It had been quite a while since he last touched her, and now he couldn't stop. His entire mind was consumed with the desire for her. He indulged in his unleashed lust, moving in a rhythm that made her tremble, her voice quivering slightly as she struggled to keep up.
Eventually, she fell asleep from exhaustion, and he didn't wake her.
He, too, felt a rare weariness. He had planned to make a brief appearance at the social gathering downstairs, but when he reached the door, he turned back. Wrapping his arms around her, he lay down beside her, and for the first time in a long while, he quietly fell asleep…
After coming back, Sophia became a bit despondent.
She felt like she had returned to the days when she was first brought here, reduced to a tool for Capone's gratification.
It wasn't just that; it was as if a switch had been turned on inside her, uncontrollably bringing Roger to her mind, along with her family who might be searching for news about her. She had to constantly remind herself not to think about it—her infatuation was her own secret, and she didn't feel worthy of him anymore. Repeatedly dwelling on it, she feared that one day she might inadvertently reveal his name to Capone, bringing trouble to Roger.
But she couldn't help it—his long, fair hands, his masterful decorating skills, and the way he looked at her cakes with a mix of strict criticism and hidden admiration… She couldn't forget them no matter how hard she tried.
Everything about him was different from Capone. Capone only forced, humiliated, and threatened her; he didn't even like pastries and belittled her for not making them well.
He didn't understand her, just as she didn't understand him.
Meanwhile, Diana and Bruno had started dating. This was probably the only hope that emerged from the Italian pasta dinner.
Sophia hoped that Bruno would find a way to help her escape and that he and Diana would truly spark something together.
Even though Diana, like her, had feelings for someone, if that relationship was ultimately unattainable, then she would have to learn to let go and find a suitable person to settle with.
Whether Bruno was Diana's suitable match, Sophia didn't know, as Diana's face didn't reveal any signs of romantic emotion. The dates seemed almost insignificant, with Diana remaining indifferent, often found quietly reading a thick book.
Until one day, she said to Sophia, "Bruno's birthday is coming up. I'd like you to make a birthday cake for him, something special, as a gift from me."
Sophia was a bit taken aback. "Me? A cake made by me?"
"Yes," Diana replied. "He mentioned wanting to invest in a pastry shop and said he has a cousin in that line of business, which is both profitable and popular. He even sent me some cookies, and there's some for you too—give them a try!"