Capone spoke with such ease, as if taking a life was as insignificant as squashing a bug. And this wasn't just anyone—it was his sworn brother, someone as close as family!
"Yes, I'm crazy! I was crazy to leave you under their watch, giving you the chance to plot behind my back!"
"You're talking nonsense! Nothing happened between Mandy and me. How could you... What have you done to him?" Sophia, driven by a surge of courage, grabbed Capone's collar, pounding her fists against him. This was a human life, after all!
"You're right. You're not worth killing for. But… I will not tolerate betrayal! From today on, it's just you and me here. No one else will come, and you can forget about bribing anyone!"
Tears welled up in Sophia's eyes as she looked at him, her voice choking, unable to form a coherent sentence.
"You're clever," Capone continued, his voice laced with venom. "But instead of trying to seduce my brothers to help you escape, you'd be better off charming me directly. Please me, and maybe—just maybe—I'll let you go."
His words cut deep, leaving Sophia trembling.
Pleasing Capone might sound simple, but for Sophia, it was an incredibly difficult task. She couldn't decipher his emotions, and even if she wanted to, she had no real desire to win his favor. No matter what she did, it felt unlikely to make either of them happy.
Sophia prepared an Italian meal and set it on the table. She glanced over to see him standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, watching the rain. Water droplets cascaded down the glass, forming thin streams that distorted the view outside. The world beyond—though it was the sea—seemed fragmented and incomplete. The rain blurred everything, leaving little to appreciate in the scenery.
Capone was lost in thought, entirely absorbed in his own world. Sophia could sense the weight of whatever burden was pressing on him, but she didn't dare ask. She didn't even want to.
All she cared about right now was knowing what had happened to Mandy. In her calmer moments, she reasoned that Capone couldn't have been so reckless as to kill him. Perhaps he had seen Mandy with her on the beach and heard their conversation, jumping to the conclusion that they were having an affair. But even Capone wouldn't kill over a mere suspicion.
"It's time for dinner," she called softly from behind him, careful not to raise her voice.
Capone sat at the table, eating in silence. Over the past few days, Sophia had learned quite a bit about cooking from Lucy and Diana, so the dish shouldn't have been bad. Yet Capone's face remained stern, his brows furrowed, neither expressing approval nor displeasure.
"There's more pasta in the pot. I'll serve you some," she offered, reaching for his plate, but Capone abruptly placed his chopsticks and bowl on the table, lifting his chin. "I'm full."
Sophia stood there awkwardly, unsure of how to respond, though she felt an intense frustration boiling inside her.
"What's wrong, upset already?" Capone smirked, lighting a cigarette and taking a long drag. He pointed dismissively at the pasta on the table, sneering, "So this is how you plan to please me? With a meal you're not even good at making? Yesterday, you weren't talking like this to Mandy!"
He dared to bring up last night? Sophia's fists clenched in anger. "How dare you eavesdrop on our conversation? I was drunk. I don't even remember what I said! But you—listening in and then taking advantage of me when I was too drunk to stop you!"
"Listening in? You were practically shouting. There was no need to eavesdrop. And as for taking advantage, I've already had you inside and out countless times. What's left to take advantage of? Besides, last night, you were the one clinging to me, freezing in the wind. Don't pretend you didn't want it."
Sophia had no words to counter that. She was furious with herself for drinking too much the previous night, ignoring Diana's warning and letting the alcohol muddle her senses. Alcohol really was a troublemaker.
She tried to think back to what she had said to Mandy. The worst thing she could recall was asking him to help her escape, and she couldn't even remember his response. What else had she said? Oh, right—something about tiramisu. She had promised to make him tiramisu if he helped her.
Sophia gave a bitter smile; it was purely something she said while drunk, who would take it seriously?
Only Capone, that petty man!
Capone had been upstairs in the study all afternoon. Sophia rummaged around in the kitchen and found a whole box of mascarpone cheese, and there were ladyfingers ready to use. So, she rolled up her sleeves and started making tiramisu.
She whipped eggs and heavy cream, adding sugar, then mixed it with the mascarpone cheese. The mixer was loud, and Sophia occasionally glanced at the staircase while holding it. She knew he didn't eat baked pastries, but tiramisu was made cold, without an oven. Maybe he would try some, but she was still afraid of disturbing him and triggering another one of his fits of anger.
The best thing she could do was making desserts. Since he had mentioned that she should use her best skills to please him, and since he minded what she had said to Mandy, she figured she might as well focus her energy on him. If he didn't appreciate it, then it wouldn't be her fault.
She mixed the cheese filling thoroughly, then prepared to brew fresh coffee and mix it with alcohol to make coffee liqueur. The rum she bought last time didn't taste quite right. Frowning, Sophia suddenly didn't want to settle for it, so she went to the wine rack and searched for a while, finally finding a fine bottle of brandy. It must have belonged to Capone or Cronus; it was smooth and rich but not harsh.
She recalled the night she had been kidnapped. She was alone in the shop, working on new dessert recipes, using the best cherry brandy she had ever seen. The one in her hand now wasn't quite as good, but close enough.
The ladyfingers needed to be soaked in coffee liqueur, placed one by one to create the unique aroma of tiramisu.
Unlike the usual method of dunking the ladyfingers directly into a bowl of coffee liqueur, Sophia used a small brush to carefully and evenly coat each one. This way, the biscuits wouldn't become too soft and soggy, nor would they be removed hastily before the liqueur soaked through every inch.
To make the flavor even richer, she added two teaspoons of the coffee liqueur to the cheese filling and mixed it well. This way, the creamy cheese would have a faint aroma of alcohol when eaten.
For her, putting in effort meant paying more attention to details than usual, even adding small innovations. This was why her skills were superior to the average pastry chef.
Layer by layer, she alternated between the cheese filling and the coffee-soaked ladyfingers. After repeating the process twice, the cake mold was filled to the brim. Sophia placed it in the fridge to set.
After finishing everything, she realized that the corners of her lips had curled up slightly. During this brief process, she was completely immersed, focusing solely on how to make the cake delicious, with little thought for any unhappy matters.
She didn't even notice that Capone had stood at the corner of the staircase watching her. The sky-blue apron hung a bit loosely on her, and her hair was casually tied back in a bun, revealing her snowy white neck, with soft wisps of hair visible at her hairline.
She was busy in the kitchen, moving around energetically yet methodically. Every step seemed practiced a hundred times, and the scattered ingredients coming together in the mold felt like it happened in an instant.
For some reason, the dessert required alcohol. She hesitated in front of the wine rack for a moment before finding a bottle of brandy.
He remembered the first time he kissed her, that night when he had brought her in. She seemed to have been drinking, her breath tinged with the scent of alcohol—brandy. Once he tasted it, he couldn't forget how good it was.
He saw the corners of her lips gradually form a beautiful arc, as if she was very pleased with her creation, causing his heart to race.
At that moment, who was she thinking about?
Mandy? Or the Roger who had once been both her mentor and friend?
After dinner, Sophia lingered downstairs for a long time. Finally, she gritted her teeth and took the tiramisu out of the fridge, dusting it with cocoa powder. She cut a piece and carried it upstairs to Capone.
He was seated on the sofa in the study, and as Sophia approached, she noticed he was cleaning a gun. She felt a bit uneasy and didn't dare to rush him, so she quietly stood by.
Capone disassembled two guns, a Glock 19 and a Black Star 82, wiping them down with a cloth soaked in gun oil until they shone. He swiftly and skillfully reassembled the parts, tightening his grip on the grip until it felt just right, the black muzzle aimed directly at Sophia.
Sophia's hand holding the plate trembled slightly, her heart feeling as if it had been doused in cold water.