Mentality of The Heart

CHAPTER 03

Alice's POV

What... what the hell was going on?

I froze in the doorway, my breath catching in my throat.

The man standing in front of me wasn't Alexander. Everything about him was wrong. His posture was rigid, his movements too deliberate, too predatory. And his eyes—those eyes weren't Alex's. They were darker, sharper, and filled with something dangerous. Something that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

He was watching me, studying me, and his gaze was like a physical force.

"Hey, amore mío," he drawled, his voice a low, velvety hum that sent an involuntary shiver down my spine. "The name's Davide. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

Davide.

My stomach twisted, the name slamming into me like a freight train.

He's split.

The realization hit me hard, and my mind raced to catch up. This wasn't the man I had prepared myself for. This wasn't Alexander, the man I was supposed to treat. This was someone else entirely—a part of him, yes, but separate. Detached.

And undeniably dangerous.

I stumbled back a step, trying to gather my thoughts, my pulse thundering in my ears. Keep calm, Alice. You've done this before. But no matter how much I told myself that, this felt different. The air around him crackled with tension, with the kind of authority that could crush you if you weren't careful.

I opened my mouth to speak, but his gaze—dark and calculating—silenced me before a single word could escape. He smirked, as though my discomfort amused him.

"Are you just going to stand there looking dumb, or are you going to introduce yourself?"

His voice was sharp, laced with mockery. It jolted me out of my stupor, and I forced myself to stand straighter, trying to mask the unease clawing at my chest.

"My name is Alice Monroe," I said, my voice as steady as I could make it. "I'll be Mr. Bianchi's psychiatrist."

The corners of his mouth curled upward, the smile cold and patronizing. He took a single step toward me, and I had to fight the urge to retreat.

"His psychiatrist, huh?" he murmured, the words dripping with sarcasm. "Well, aren't you the brave one."

I clenched my jaw, refusing to react. He was trying to rattle me, to knock me off balance, and I wouldn't let him.

"I don't think I can help Alexander," I said firmly. "I know I can."

His eyes lit up with amusement, and the air between us thickened, heavy and stifling. He tilted his head, his gaze flicking over me like I was a puzzle he intended to take apart piece by piece.

"Hmm... feisty," he said, almost to himself.

Then he moved.

It was subtle at first, a shift in his posture, a single step closer. But the effect was immediate. I felt my pulse quicken as he closed the distance between us, his movements slow, deliberate, like a predator stalking its prey.

I backed up instinctively, my heels clicking softly against the polished floor until my spine hit the door behind me. My breath caught. There was nowhere else to go.

He stopped inches away, towering over me. His presence was overwhelming, his broad shoulders and sharp features casting shadows that seemed to swallow the light.

Did I mention how freakishly tall he is?

Because oh my god, he's freakishly tall.

He leaned down, close enough that I could feel his breath against my skin, warm and invasive. His lips curved into a wicked smile, and the glint in his eyes made my stomach twist into knots.