Mentality of The Heart

CHAPTER 12

3rd Person's POV

Alice lay sprawled across her bed like a jellyfish, limbs tangled in the sheets, exhaustion weighing her down. The remnants of a sleepless night clung to her, her mind still tangled in the web of information she had spent hours trying to piece together about Alexander's condition.

She had questions—too many of them. And yet, the more she searched for answers, the more elusive they became.

The room was silent, save for the faint hum of the city outside her window, until—

RING RING.

The shrill sound of her phone tore through the stillness, making her groan in frustration. She blindly reached for it, not bothering to check the caller ID.

"Whoever this is better have a damn good reason for waking me up at this ungodly hour," she grumbled, her voice thick with sleep.

For a moment, there was only silence on the other end. Then—

"What will you do, farfalla?"

Alice's breath caught. That voice. Smooth, deep, and laced with something unreadable. A shiver ran down her spine as she hastily checked the caller ID.

Unknown Number.

But she didn't need to see a name to know exactly who it was.

Her posture straightened in an instant, the last traces of fatigue vanishing. "Oh—s-sorry, I didn't know it was you," she stammered, heat rising to her cheeks.

A low chuckle rumbled through the speaker, slow and deliberate. Amused.

"You've got a feisty side. I like it."

Alice could practically hear the smirk in his voice, and somehow, that made it worse. Her cheeks burned hotter. Bad, Alice. Bad!

Before she could retaliate, his tone shifted—lighter amusement replaced with something firm. Urgent.

"Listen carefully. I don't have much time."

Her stomach twisted.

"I know this is sudden, but you and Amore need to come to Italy—immediately."

Her brows furrowed. "Wait, what? Alex—"

"No questions." His voice left no room for argument. "A private jet is waiting for you. You need to be at the airport within the next hour. I'll explain everything when you arrive. Just... be careful."

And just like that, the line went dead.

Alice sat there, gripping her phone as the weight of his words settled over her.

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

And whatever it was, it had Alexander Dante Bianchi—the most unreadable man she had ever met—sounding almost... desperate.

Her pulse pounded as she whispered to herself, "What the hell is going on?"

Alice's POV

The moment Alexander ended the call, I sprang into action, hurriedly throwing clothes into my suitcase. My mind raced with a thousand questions. Why the sudden trip to Italy? What happened that he couldn't tell me over the phone?

In the midst of my frantic packing, Amore barged into my room, her suitcase already packed and standing by the door.

Wait.