Chapter 7
Cecilia
When I wake up—really wake up this time—I jolt upright, eyes wide as I look around the bedroom, searching for anything amiss. But everything looks the way it left it.
Even now, nearing five AM, the dream feels real: the voice, the touches, the scent of orange blossoms.
Orange blossoms.
I push the sheets aside, getting out of bed fully, brushing a hand through my hair as my breathing intensifies. Smells are rare in dreams, but they’re not unheard of. It shouldn’t rattle me like this, and yet…I can’t help but wonder if Mikhail made it into my room.
I don’t allow myself to ruminate any longer. I need the truth, and I need it now.
I rush down the stairs wearing my slippers, each step making my determination burn a little stronger. The sun is barely rising, the house bathed in silence and a bluish glow. Only the sound of my feet slapping against the marble floor and my agitated pulse ring in my ears.
My skin is still flushed, my hair in disarray, the apex of my thighs still a little damp from what happened.
I couldn’t care less about any of that right now.
All I need is to see that dark cell for myself and pray to God it isn’t empty.
Because if it is, it means…he’s gone. That he paid me a visit before escaping.
I grip the banister, pushing into it to propel me down the hallway toward the basement door. But before I can reach it, a shadow cuts through the morning light. I crash into a hard chest, smelling of expensive, familiar cologne.
“What the fuck—”
Cesare’s hands shoot out, catching me by the arms so I don’t fall.
“Sorry,” I say through ragged breaths. I try to twist, but he keeps me in place.
“What the hell happened? Where are you going?”
“Downstairs.”
He frowns, but he otherwise remains silent. He knows damn well what’s downstairs.
“Any reason for that?”
Not you’re not allowed there. Interesting.
“I—” I rack my brain for a reason—any reason that doesn’t say I may or may not have had a sex dream with our prisoner—but my mind goes blank. Why did Cesare have to be here at this exact time?
He lets out a sigh, pulling me into a corner before looking around. When he doesn’t see anyone lurking, he says quietly, “Listen, Cecilia. I have something to confess to you.”
I blink.
“A few days ago, when I left you with Enzo, I…did that on purpose.” He looks away, as if speaking the words hurts him.
“Your father, he ordered me to keep you away from that basement, from the entire situation. If he even suspected I sent you, I’d be dead.
Or worse.” He winces, as if he’s thinking of a very specific kind of punishment.
“But Mikhail kept asking for you. And you deserved answers, so I…”
I squint, my eyes shifting across his face rapidly, needing to hear the rest.
“I gambled,” he adds. “I knew you wouldn’t let it go. I thought if I stepped out of the way, you’d find your own means to go down there. That way, it wasn’t me betraying the Don. It was just you doing what you had to. Getting information.”
I keep quiet, and his blue eyes hold mine, remorseful and genuine. Somehow, the secrecy stings more than if he had just argued with me about going there.
“It was the only way I could help you without putting a bullet in my head—or feeling like I deserved one.”
“You could’ve just told me…” I say.
“I’m sorry, Cecilia. Maybe I handled it poorly. I did want to help you, though. You believe that, right?”
I suck in a breath. Over the years, Cesare stood up to my father for me many times.
He advocated for me to stop going to therapy, to be allowed around other kids, to go to a normal school instead of having a tutor.
In many ways, however, he’s as trapped as I am in my father’s game. Still, he always did the best he could.
I just wish he’d stop feeling so loyal to the man who made him steal and murder.
“You should’ve trusted me with the truth, but…I understand why you felt like you couldn’t.”
His grip on my hand tightens just enough to convey the nerves and urgency in his words. “If you want to tell your father, you can. You should.”
I shake my head. “Of course I won’t tell him. Just…please, don’t make choices for me behind my back. Everyone else is already doing it, and I can’t take that kind of betrayal from you.”
“I’m sorry. You’re right. I would never—”
I offer a faint smile. “I know. We’re good.” I exhale. “As long as you’re fine with me going down there again.”
His lips twitch, as if he’s not happy with the idea, but he doesn’t contest it. “You need more answers?”
“Yes, but you need to stop worrying. If I get caught, I won’t drag you into this. You should know that.”
“I know, I just…” He curses under his breath. “I don’t want either of us to get in trouble. Take Enzo with you again. Don’t go alone, you hear me?”
I refrain from telling him Enzo remained upstairs the last time I did this and just nod instead.
Down and down, Enzo and I go until darkness swallows us. Eventually, he has to turn on the flashlight. The silence is as loud as ever, making my heartbeat echo in my ribcage. This time, I’m still afraid, but for different reasons. What if Mikhail truly has escaped?
The sound of metal hitting metal—Enzo’s flashlight against the iron bars—scratches my eardrums when we stop in front of the cell I’m now visiting for a second time.
“Wake up, asshole. You’ve got a visitor,” he says.
But the shadows say nothing.
I simply wait there, a foot away, hoping Mikhail is just being his arrogant self again.
“Need a hearing aid? Fucking say something.” Enzo hits the bars again.
Anxious, I pull my lip between my teeth, squinting at his cell.
“Give me that, please,” I say, snatching the flashlight. I center it on the left corner, finding it empty, then slowly drag it to the right. When the light zeroes in on a silhouette, a long sigh leaves my chest.
He’s here. Of course he is. I almost want to laugh at how paranoid I am.
I raise the flashlight higher until a bloody, carefree smirk welcomes me, completely unfazed.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Mikhail asks, his voice low and hoarse, as if he just woke up. It coils around my body, reaching places it shouldn’t, making my core tremble.
Show me what you do when you think no one’s watching.
Not a single fucking sound, Cecilia.
My fucking God, sweetheart.
My hand tightens around the flashlight as I realize the light is subtly shaking. Not from fear, but from my uneven breathing, from the jolt of forbidden energy passing through me.
“Has anyone been here at all today?” I ask Enzo, ignoring Mikhail.
He nods. “Every few hours. Unfortunately.”
Mikhail’s low laugh cuts through before he coughs, the effects of his rough treatment showing this time. “I am deeply touched by how much you care. But see, you’re disturbing my beauty sleep, and—”
My nostrils flare. “Shut up. Enzo, please search him.”
I step back, and Enzo pulls out a rusty key from his pocket before twisting it in the lock of Mikhail’s cell. As the door groans open, my stalker continues to watch me, his smirk obscene—knowing, almost. I swallow hard, telling myself it means nothing.
“You haven’t answered my question,” he says as Enzo steps inside. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit? Bad dreams? Or did you just miss me?”
Dreams. He says the word so nonchalantly—as if he’s teasing me. Am I reading too much into this? God, I hate how easily he messes with my mind.
“Maybe I just came to see you suffer,” I say.
“Ah—a sadist, then. Sadly, we can’t both be one.”
Enzo begins patting him down, and I keep the flashlight on the two of them. If there’s anything in his pockets that could’ve helped him get out of this cell—another key or something sharp—then we can make sure he stays here, where he belongs.
But Enzo stands empty-handed, offering a shrug before looking around the dimly-lit space.
And then—
My eyes widen, cold dread washing over me as Mikhail’s imposing shadow dislodges itself from the wall.
His wrists are tethered to the wall, but the chains are long enough to allow him some movement, enough for him to tower above my oblivious guard.
My hand goes to my mouth as I suck in a breath. “Enzo—”
I’m not fast enough.
Mikhail wraps one of the long chains around the guard’s neck, cutting off his air. Enzo’s eyes bulge. He brings his hands up, reaching for it, clawing at Mikhail’s forearm. Grunting, he kicks back and then bends forward in a panicked frenzy. But Mikhail doesn’t relent.
I watch in horror, not knowing what to do. He’d kill Enzo before I came back with other guards.
“Stop!” I shout, hands trembling. “Leave him alone. Please. Don’t kill him!”
With one hand, Mikhail keeps the chain tight around Enzo’s neck. With the other, he pushes him forward until his face slams into the prison bars in front of me. Blood whooshes from Enzo’s eyebrow immediately, his eyes closed as he focuses on taking in any amount of air he can manage.
“Buy his life then,” Mikhail says. “If you care so much.”
Guilt gnaws at my throat, forcing my words out. “Let him breathe! Please!”
“Mmm. I do love to hear you beg, Lastochka.” Then, his hand loosens on the guard’s throat, enough for him to take in a heap of air before it tightens once more.
Even if Mikhail removed the chain, Enzo would still be too out of it to fight. And yet, like a trained killer, Mikhail is not taking any chances as he keeps the restraint at Enzo’s neck.
“So it’s a yes?”
I look up at him, terror gripping me. “W-What?”
“Are you or are you not buying his life?”
“Y-Yes. Yes! God, just… What do you want?!”
“What do I want… Hmm, let’s see,” he muses, taking Enzo with him like a dog as he paces his cell.
“I’d take your pussy, since you mentioned sex last time you were here.
But if I’m being honest, I want it freely, not because we cut some kind of bargain.
It tastes sweeter that way.” He winks, and my whole body flushes, even in this terrible moment.
“You’re s-sick,” I say. “Out of your mind.”
“Sure am.”
Enzo’s wheezing peels my eyes off Mikhail. “Name your goddamn price already. You’re killing him!”
“Right. My bad,” he says, giving the guard another chance to breathe. Mikhail prowls closer to the bars, bringing Enzo with him, until the length of his chains stop him from going past the cell door we left open.
I haven’t realized how battered he looks now compared to the last time I saw him.
His face has new cuts across his jaw, forehead, and temple.
His nose and lower lip are broken, blood still shining in places, as if it’s ready to spill again.
I bet there are bruises on his body that are just as bad—cuts in place I don’t even want to imagine.
He has to be in so much pain, and yet, he behaves like a man who barely feels anything.
“Twenty minutes of your time,” Mikhail says. “Alone. And you let me touch you.”
My brows draw together. What a sick bastard!
“N-No,” Enzo manages between tight breaths.
This is all my fault. I made Enzo come down with me in the first place. I can't just let him die.
“Ten minutes. No touching. And I’ll bring you cigarettes,” I say, my upper lip curling.
The corner of Mikhail’s mouth twitches higher. “Fifteen. One cigarette. And there will be touching, but I’ll be nice.”
A nervous laugh erupts from my chest. “I’m not an idiot, Mikhail. Define nice.”
He slightly angles his head, as if he likes the sound of his name coming from my lips—or as if it’s the first time he sees me when I say it out loud.
“Well?” I ask, bringing his attention back to Enzo.
He rolls his eyes. “Nothing inappropriate.”
“Fine. Now let. Enzo. Go.”
And, to my surprise, he does, even if he has no guarantee I’ll uphold my end of the bargain or that he won’t be killed after what he tried to pull off.
Mikhail loosens his grip on the chain, unwraps it from Enzo’s neck, then pushes him out of his cell with a force he shouldn’t have, considering his injuries. I gasp when my guard flies into the wall ahead, stooping to catch his breath.
“Enzo! Are you alright?” I say, approaching him.
My guard steps back with a hand extended, telling me to stay away. I try not to let it get to me. After all, if he’s mad, I deserve it.
As Enzo’s breathing evens out a little, he trudges to the door, locking Mikhail back inside. This entire time, my stalker watches me with delight, satisfaction written all over his face.
“Let’s go,” Enzo says, followed by a cough. I don’t fail to notice Mikhail’s brow quirking. He’s got to be kidding—he wants his fifteen minutes now?
“I don’t have the cigarette on me,” I tell him. “You’ll have to wait—”
“Bring it next time. The rest, you can offer me now. And make no mistake: just because I didn’t kill him doesn’t mean I won’t do it the next time he’s down here, no matter how sweetly you beg.”
Damn him.
It would be foolish to believe Enzo will never be ordered to come check on Mikhail again, or that Mikhail won’t stay true to his word. I can’t take any of those risks, so I turn back to Enzo, who watches me with a frown.
“Go ahead. I’ll be right up,” I tell him.
“Absolutely fucking not. I’m not leaving you here all by yourself ever again. You saw what he’s capable of.”
“It’s fine.” I nod, trying to convince us both. “He won’t hurt me. He did that just to strike the deal.”
Lie. Lie. Lie. I have no idea what this man means to do—not now, not ever, but I need Enzo out of here. “I’m really sorry I made you come with me,” I say.
“I’m not. Let’s fucking go. I mean it.”
I open my mouth to reason with him, but after what just happened, I doubt he’ll relent this time.
“Just…don’t do anything stupid!” I tell Mikhail. “I’ll be back. If you harm him again–”
He shakes his head slowly. “We made a bargain,” he says, cementing my reality.
Yes, we did. I made a bargain with the devil, and something tells me no matter how much I want to pretend it didn’t happen, he always collects.