Page 26 of Ruined By Capture

I grunt in response, not trusting my voice. My pulse hammers in my throat, blood rushing south. I cross one ankle over my knee, trying to hide the obvious bulge in my pants.

She licks a crumb from her lower lip and I have to look at the floor. Fuck.

"Did you make these?" she asks.

"No." My voice comes out gravel-rough. I clear my throat. "Our cook. Ettore."

She nods, turning her attention back to the laptop. But now I can't focus on anything except the way her mouth moves as she finishes the cookie, the delicate curve of her throat as she swallows, the way her tongue darts out to lick at a stray crumb.

I need to get the fuck out of this room before I do something stupid.

CHAPTER 9

Three hours in and I'm still working on the first layer.

Come on.

The program I'm running tests combinations at lightning speed, but this isn't like the movies where hackers magically break into systems in minutes.

This is methodical. Exhausting. My back aches from hunching over the laptop, but I can't stop now.

Alessio left about an hour ago without a word. One minute he was sitting across from me, watching with those intense dark eyes, the next he was gone. I didn't even hear him leave—just looked up and found myself alone.

Strange man. One moment he's bringing me cookies, the next he's glaring at me like I've personally offended him. His mood swings are giving me whiplash.

Not that I care. He's my captor, not my friend. His emotional state means nothing to me beyond how it might affect my safety.

I take a sip of water and refocus. The program runs through another set of combinations, each failure bringing a tiny flicker of frustration. Then?—

"Yes!"

The screen flashes green. Access granted to the first layer. I sit up straighter, a rush of satisfaction flowing through me. One down, several more to go, but this is progress.

I stretch my arms above my head, feeling my spine crack in protest. The room is quiet except for the hum of the laptop. No sign of Alessio returning.

Maybe he got bored watching me type. Or maybe he has actual work to do beyond babysitting a kidnapped bride. Either way, I appreciate the solitude. It's easier to concentrate without those velvet eyes tracking my every move.

I take a moment to massage my temples before diving into the second layer. This one will be trickier—Raymond wouldn't make it easy to access his dirty money.

The door flies open and Alessio appears like he materialized from thin air. His hand hovers near his waistband—where I'm certain he keeps a gun—eyes scanning the room for threats.

"What happened?" he demands, voice tight with tension.

I can't help the smirk that spreads across my face. "First layer cracked." I gesture to the screen where the progress bar shows 100% completion. "One down, several more to go."

His shoulders relax slightly as he steps into the room. "That's it? I thought something was wrong."

"Sorry to disappoint. No assassins climbing through the windows—just me winning against Raymond's security system."

Alessio approaches, peering over my shoulder at the screen filled with code. His proximity sends an unwelcome tingling along my spine—he smells like sandalwood and that aroma when you reach the ocean for the first time in months.

"How much longer for the rest?" he asks.

"We're looking at a week, minimum. Each layer gets progressively harder." I turn to face him. "But I'm not in a hurry. It's not like I have wedding gifts to return or a honeymoon to cancel."

Our eyes meet and something shifts in the air between us. His midnight gaze holds mine, unreadable yet intense. I refuse to look away first—it would feel like surrendering.

After several vertical heartbeats he breaks the silence. "I need to make something to eat."

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