Page 7 of The Alpha's Forbidden Heir

My back straightens, and I lift my chin, refusing to let him intimidate me.

“I am looking for some artifacts for my art.”

“Your art.” He says it like it’s a foreign concept, like the word itself doesn’t belong in his vocabulary.

“Yes,” I snap, crossing my arms. “The old metallurgist factory where I was picked from has some machinery, rusted metal, and decayed metal that I need. They’re beautiful. Unique. I wanted to work with it.”

His expression doesn’t change, but he sure looks amused.

“You expect me to believe you wandered onto my territory for… aesthetics?”

“I don’t care what you believe.”

He steps closer, his presence suffocating, and my pulse quickens despite myself. “I think you’re lying.”

“And I think you’re an arrogant ass,” I shoot back.

His lips twitch, but the humor doesn’t reach his eyes. “You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that.”

“Gee, thanks. Can I go now?”

“Not until you tell me the truth.”

“I already did!”

“Then why are you so defensive?”

“Because you’re accusing me of lying!”

“Because you are lying.” His voice drops. “Why don’t you tell me the real reason you’re here? Did your Daddy dearest send you?”

The question hits like a slap, and I flinch before I can stop myself.

“What?”

“Did he send you?” He steps closer. “Or did you come here on your own, hoping to impress him?”

“My father doesn’t even know I’m here,” I snap. “And I wouldn’t need to impress him even if he did.”

He laughs a cold, humorless sound that sends a shiver down my spine.

“You really believe that don’t you? That he’s proud of you. That he cares about you.”

“Of course, he cares about me,” I say, my voice rising. “He’s my father.”

“And what about the people he’s hurt?” His voice is sharper now, “The lives he’s ruined? Does he care about them too?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I?” He steps closer again and locks his eyes onto mine. “You think I don’t know what he does? The trafficking, the drugs, the blood money… should I go on?”

“You’re lying.”

“Am I?” His gaze hardens. “Do you really think a man like Vittorio Sorrenti built his empire without getting his hands dirty?”

“My father isn’t like that.”

“He’s exactly like that.”

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