I took a single grape and placed it in my mouth, chewing with deliberate slowness.
Leonardo's lips twitched, almost a smile. "Petulant. But at least you're eating." He returned to his tablet, seemingly content to ignore me now that I'd complied with his basic demand.
The silence stretched between us, broken only by the gentle clinking of his cup against its saucer. Finally, hunger won out over pride, and I began filling my plate with small portions of fruit and cheese.
"Your father wanted this, you know," Leonardo said suddenly, eyes still on his screen. "Us. Together. He believed the De Luca and Russo families would create a dynasty that would rule Italy for generations."
"My father wanted power." I countered. "He didn't care what it cost me."
"True." Leonardo set the tablet aside, giving me his full attention. The intensity of his gaze made me want to shrink back, but I forced myself to meet it. "Marco was a selfish bastard. But occasionally, his selfishness aligned with wisdom."
"You murdered him."
"I executed him," Leonardo corrected, as casually as discussing the weather. "He became a liability. Soft. The moment he lost you, he lost his edge. Started making mistakes. Enemies began circling."
"So you appointed yourself his executioner."
Something dark flickered across his face. "I gave him a cleaner death than others would have. He wasn't quick with his own enemies."
I thought of Salvatore Belmonte choking on his blood, of my father sipping espresso while a man died at his feet. "No," I agreed quietly. "He wasn't."
Leonardo studied me, head slightly tilted. "You truly hated him, didn't you?"
"I feared him," I corrected. "There's a difference."
"And me?" He leaned forward, those ice-blue eyes never leaving mine. "Do you fear me, April?"
I refused to give him the satisfaction of an answer, though we both knew the truth.
He smiled slightly, accepting my silence as confirmation. "Good. Fear is honest. Fear is useful." He glanced at his watch. "Finish your breakfast. We have things to discuss."
I forced down a few more bites, though the food had lost all taste. When Leonardo rose from the table, I braced myself for whatever came next.
"Come," he said, not waiting to see if I followed.
We walked in silence through the house and out into the gardens I'd seen from my window. Up close, they were even more impressive, acres of immaculately maintained grounds with fountains, sculptures, and carefully cultivated flower beds.
Leonardo led me to a greenhouse at the far end of the property.
Inside, the air was warm and humid, heavy with the scent of soil and growing things. Roses in every color imaginable lined the walls, red, pink, yellow, white, and black. The black roses like the one left on my counter.
"Your new domain." Leonardo announced, gesturing to the space. "I understand you've developed quite the talent for floristry."
I stared at him in disbelief. "You expect me to garden for you? Like some kind of servant??"
"I expect you to continue developing the skills you clearly enjoy." he corrected. "Consider it a kindness."
"Kidnapping me and forcing me to tend your roses isn't kindness," I spat. "It's just another form of control."
He stepped closer, invading my space until I could smell his cologne, something expensive with notes of sandalwood and amber. "Everything I do is a form of control, April. The sooner you accept that, the easier your life will be."
"My life was just fine before you destroyed it."
"Your life was a fantasy," he countered, voice hardening. "Hannah Rossi didn't exist. She was a ghost, a shadow. April De Luca is real, flesh and blood and fire." His hand rose to my face, fingers brushing my cheek in a mockery of tenderness. "And she belongs to me."
I jerked away from his touch, rage boiling over.
Before I could think, I lunged for the nearest rose bush, tearing blooms from stems with savage fury. Petals scattered across the stone floor like drops of blood as I ripped and shredded, destroying the perfect flowers in a frenzy of defiance.
"Is this real enough for you?" I shouted, thorns cutting into my palms as I continued my destruction. "Is this what you want?"
I expected him to stop me, to grab my wrists, to slap me, to punish me for damaging his precious flowers.
Instead, he watched with cold fascination, making no move to intervene until I'd decimated an entire row of roses, my hands bleeding from dozens of tiny cuts.
Only when I stopped, chest heaving with exertion and emotion, did he finally speak.
"Feel better?" he asked quietly.
The calm question deflated my rage, leaving only hollow exhaustion. "No."
Leonardo approached slowly, taking my bleeding hands in his. The gentleness of his touch was more terrifying than violence would have been.
"Defiance will cost you, Piccola Rosa," he murmured, examining the cuts across my palms. "Not these minor wounds, these you did to yourself. But there will be consequences for this tantrum."
"What are you going to do?" I asked, hating the tremor in my voice. "Beat me? Lock me up? You've already taken everything from me."
His smile was soft, almost sad. "Not everything. Not yet." He released my hands and stepped back. "Clean up this mess. When you're done, Mrs. Ricci will show you to the library. I have work to do, but I expect you presentable for dinner at eight."
"And if I refuse?"
Leonardo's eyes hardened, all pretense of gentleness vanishing. "Then you'll discover just how creative I can be when it comes to punishment." He glanced meaningfully at the destroyed roses. "Think of these as a down payment on what you'll owe me if you continue to act like a child."
He turned to leave, pausing at the greenhouse door. "Oh, and April? The roses you destroyed? They're quite rare. Brazilian Ruby Supremes. Nearly extinct." His smile didn't reach his eyes. "Fitting, isn't it? Destroying something precious and irreplaceable in a moment of selfish rage. Like father, like daughter."
The door closed behind him, leaving me alone among the carnage I'd created. I stared at my bleeding hands, at the scattered petals and broken stems at my feet.
He'd won this round. Not by force, but by allowing me to act out my fury, knowing it would change nothing. Knowing it would only exhaust and diminish me.
For the first time, I recognized the true danger Leonardo Russo presented. Not just his capacity for violence, but his ability to see through me, to anticipate my reactions and use them against me.
As I knelt to clean up the mess, thorns pricking my already wounded hands, I made myself a promise: I would learn to be more careful. To guard not just my body but my emotions. To keep whatever scraps of myself I could hidden away where he couldn't reach them.
Because if I gave Leonardo everything, there would be nothing left of me at all.
By the time I finished cleaning the greenhouse, my hands were throbbing beneath the bandages. Each breath felt like defeat. I'd destroyed priceless flowers in a fit of rage, and all I had to show for it was pain and the bitter knowledge that Leonardo had anticipated my reaction. Had welcomed it, even.
Mrs. Ricci appeared just as I placed the last broken stem in the waste bin. Her face betrayed nothing as she surveyed the aftermath of my tantrum.
"I'll show you to the library now," she said, as if I hadn't just decimated a fortune in rare blooms.
The library was three stories of leather-bound books and old-world opulence. I spent hours there, drifting between shelves, avoiding the reality of my captivity. No sign of Leonardo. Just the quiet tick of an antique clock marking time I no longer controlled.
When evening approached, Mrs. Ricci escorted me back to my room. "Dinner at eight," she reminded me. "Mr. Russo expects punctuality."
I nodded mechanically, already planning my next rebellion. Something more calculated....something that wouldn't leave me bleeding.
The bathroom door was ajar when I entered my room. Steam still clung to the mirror, evidence that someone had recently showered there. My skin crawled at the invasion of privacy.
but what stopped me cold was what hung on the back of the door.