Chapter 5 The First Taste of Freedom
of the Valente mansion, watched at every turn by her twelve cousins and an invisible army of guards. But tonight
ervice alley behind the estate. It was a simple mechanism, almost laughably easy for anyone who knew where to look-but Rafael's secu
y streets below, and the subtle tang of rain on cobblestones. She stepped lightly, her silk slippers pressing softly against the stone, careful to avoid the so
hin those walls, her father ruled with an iron hand, her cousins kept constant watch, and the rules of the Valente fami
ter of a carriage reminded her that life carried on in a rhythm she had never known. Every corner she turned seemed alive with possibility
vely to a small bakery tucked between two brick buildings. Its warm glow spilled onto the cobblestone, inv
the cold, controlled air of the mansion. Behind the counter stood a young man, his hands dusted with flour, dark hair falling carelessly o
casual, as though she were just anoth
arsed her manners, but now it seemed pointless. "Just...somethin
ough as if it were second nature. "Our sourdough is
he didn't seem to notice her unusual attire or the air of quiet command she carried naturally. I
k, fleeting but undeniable, and quickly pulled her hand back, cheeks warming. The glance
enly aware of how little time she had
musement in his tone. "You don't see
ps. "Some of us are used to being watched," she
t, then laughed softly. "Well, I promise not
life she was leaving behind, about the man her father had chosen for her-Da
aking the bread carefully, savoring the
ped back into the alley, the city sounds enveloping her once more. The streets were no longer just cobblesto
ael would fume if he knew, and Daniel Carter-when he inevitably arrived-would be an unmovable obstacle in her carefully plotted life.
th in his eyes, the fleeting spark of their fingers, and the subtle thrill of being som
tasted freedom,
