Chapter 18 Enzo
I wake at four-thirty. Always the same time. The discipline of routine keeps you alive in my business.
Madison is pressed against my side, one arm across my chest, dead to the world. In sleep, she looks exactly like what she is, a beautiful, innocent woman who dropped into something she doesn't understand.
She stirs when I move, mumbling something before burrowing into my warmth. I carefully extract myself without waking her and dress in the dark, checking my phone as I button my shirt.
Alessio: "Package delivered. Clean resolution confirmed."
Four bodies that won't be found. Four examples of what happens when someone touches my property. Marino will get the message by breakfast. His men crossed a line, and lines in my world are written in blood.
I delete the message and leave quietly.
The drive to my villa is short. Long enough to compartmentalize what happened tonight. Madison Sullivan is no longer just an asset I'm developing. She's become something more problematic. A possession that enemies could use against me if they're smart enough to recognize what she means.
The intelligent move is to eliminate the vulnerability. Forgive the debt, send her home, remove the weakness before someone exploits it.
But the thought of another man's hands on what I've claimed makes my fists clench around the steering wheel.
She's mine now. That's non-negotiable.
Which means adjustments to security protocols. Immediately.
After arriving at my villa, I review the elimination report Alessio sent. The work is professional, staged to look like an internal dispute over money. The bodies were discovered by their own people, sending a clear message about the price of disrespect.
By noon, Marino will understand that his territory ends where mine begins, and Madison Sullivan exists firmly within my borders.
I pull up the GPS tracking from her car. The device I had installed during her "repairs" has been functioning perfectly. But passive surveillance is no longer sufficient. Not for something that’s mine.
Emilio answers on the first ring. "Boss?"
"Full security coverage on Madison. Starting now."
"Level?"
"Total. Every movement, every conversation, every person who looks at her twice. Round-the-clock, but keep it invisible."
"Timeline?"
"Immediately. Also, background checks on anyone new in the village. Tourists, salesmen, doesn't matter. They ask about her, I want to know their blood type."
"Got it."
"One more thing. She's top priority now. Any threat to her is a threat to me. Handle accordingly."
"Understood."
I end the call and make three more. By sunrise, Madison's cottage will have military-grade surveillance disguised as home improvements.
The village will see an influx of my people conducting "tourism assessments.
" Her illusion of independence will remain intact while she lives inside a world of my construction.
The morning passes with routine business. Shipping routes that need adjustment. Territory disputes that require clarification. A police chief who needs reminding about our arrangement. Standard operations that feel less critical than they did twenty-four hours ago.
Now there’s a dangerous shift in priorities that I'll need to monitor.
Franco calls at eight. "Heading to the american’s house now. Full electrical as discussed."
"Include the additional hardware. Make it look standard."
"Already in the truck."
In the afternoon, I drive to the village to inspect progress and see how Madison's processing her new reality.
I find her hanging laundry in the garden, looking exactly like the innocent American she was before I put my hands on her. Except for the slight mark on her neck that my teeth left. That's pure ownership.
She smiles when she sees me. Open. Trusting. Naive.
"Hi."
"How are you feeling?" I ask, though her careful movements tell me she's sore in all the right places.
"Good. Really good." The blush confirms she's thinking about why she's sore. "Franco's been working all morning. He says I’ll have real electricity by tonight."
"Excellent."
"Speaking of last night." She moves closer. "Did you handle the problem? The men from yesterday?"
Interesting questions. Most women in my world prefer ignorance about my methods. But Madison's looking at me with curiosity, not fear.
"It's handled. I took care of it."
She processes this information. "Thank you. It was scary how they threatened me."
"It won’t happen again."
She studies my face closely. "You're not just a businessman, are you?"
"It depends. What do you think I am?"
"Someone people fear. Someone whose business disputes end with people disappearing."
“Do you fear me?”
She smiles and turns to hang up more laundry. “No, you’re only dangerous to other people. Not to me."
"Never to you."
"Then I'm safe here."
The simplicity of her logic changes my assessment of her. Madison Sullivan isn't just accepting what I am, she's adapting to it.
"Franco will be finished soon," I say. "I'll swing back by to check the work tonight."
"Will you stay the night again?"
Direct. Shameless.
Exactly how I prefer my women.
"If you want."
She turns and flirtatiously winks at me over her shoulder. "Oh, I want."
I leave her there, hanging laundry without a care in the world while wearing my marks on her skin under her clothes.
Madison Sullivan is evolving from liability to asset in unexpected ways. A woman who understands what I am and doesn't flinch.
Yet.
And she’s mine.
And I always keep what I acquire.