Chapter 3
Dario
I watch her from a distance.
Her name is Vittoria Castelli—maiden name, Vittoria Falco.
The woman I saved. And, as it turns out, the wife of my rival. Enzo Castelli.
Funny how life works like that, isn’t it? One minute, I’m saving her from some asshole who thinks it’s okay to disrespect women, and the next, I’m realizing she’s the key to everything I’ve been waiting for. She’s his weakness. And I intend to exploit it.
I’ve spent the last few days shadowing her.
Not in some creepy, obsessive way, but enough to catch every detail.
Now I know she’s got her little security team trailing her like a pack of wolves.
The usual. Nothing I didn’t expect. Still, it makes me wonder.
The night I saved her, there wasn’t anyone around.
No bodyguards, no backup. She was alone. And that… doesn’t add up.
I lean against the hood of my car and light a cigarette. Then watch as she cuts through the trail. Jogging along the same path she always takes. She’s alone—again. A woman like her, with a husband like him, should have a shadow glued to her at all times.
I don’t know why, but I want to see if I can crack through that wall of hers. There’s also something about her—something that doesn’t sit right with me. Something I can’t wait to find out.
Fucking hell, she’s beautiful.
She moves like she owns the damn place, her ponytail bouncing with every step. Like she has nothing to worry about. Like she wasn’t nearly assaulted just days ago.
But I know better. I’ve seen what fear looks like. And she was afraid that night.
I take a slow drag and exhale as she disappears around a bend. Maybe she was running from something that night. Maybe she still is. Either way, she’s a loose thread in a very dangerous tapestry, and I don’t like loose threads.
I flip the cigarette to the sidewalk and push off the car.
Time for the good ol’ accidental run-in.
I wait until she’s almost past me before stepping out from behind a tree.
She jolts back like she’s been shocked. “Jesus fucking Christ—”
“Good morning to you, too,” I say, unable to hide the smirk creeping up on my face.
She puts a hand on her chest trying to catch her breath, then narrows her eyes. “Are you seriously stalking me now?”
“Stalking?” I raise an eyebrow. “That’s a bit presumptuous, don’t you think?”
She crosses her arms, still winded from her run but sharp enough to catch my move. “So what, you just happen to be in the same park, on the same path, at the exact same time as me?”
I flash her a grin. “Coincidences happen every day.”
She lets out a short laugh, completely unimpressed. “Right. And I suppose next you’ll tell me you’re just out here for a jog?”
I glance down at my suit. “Do I look like a guy who jogs?”
“Not even a little.”
She moves to step around me, but I shift, blocking her way—not aggressively, just enough to make a point. She stops and her eyes dart to mine, wary now.
“I wanted to see you again,” I say, my voice dipping just enough to make sure she knows this isn’t small talk. “You’ve got quite the security team, but the night I saved you, no one was around. What’s that about?”
She pauses for a while, looking as though she has so much to say and so little time. I watch as she bites down hard on her lip, enough to draw blood, before glancing away from me. When she looks up at me again, the compulsive need to tell me the truth is gone, replaced by placid indifference.
“It’s nothing,” she says quickly, trying to brush past me with a shrug. “My husband’s just very protective of me.”
I don’t know why, but the word husband coming out of her mouth irks me.
“Protective, huh?” I cross my arms. “Funny. Doesn’t seem like he’s doing a great job.”
Her jaw tightens. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
I shrug. “Just that a woman with a very protective husband doesn’t usually end up in an alley with no one watching her back.”
Her lips press together, the corner of her mouth twitching like she’s fighting the urge to say something reckless. I almost hope she does.
Instead, she exhales through her nose and shakes her head. “You really need a new hobby.”
“I’m plenty entertained.”
She glares at me, then pushes past, this time forcing me to step aside.
“So, considering you’re out here running around like it’s just another casual jog in the park,” I say, my tone almost bored. “I’d say your very protective husband is… well, maybe not as protective as you claim. If you’re still out here all alone.”
She hesitates—just for a fraction of a second—but I catch it. She turns, her expression unreadable, though I can see the calculation behind her eyes.
“I can take care of myself,” she says finally.
I let out a short laugh. “Yeah? Tell that to the guy who almost raped you.”
“I don’t owe you an explanation.”
“No, you don’t,” I agree easily. “But you do owe someone the truth.” I tilt my head slightly. “And I don’t think it’s me you’re lying to.”
That gets to her. The muscle in her jaw jumps, and for a moment, she looks like she might say something real. Something honest. But then she blinks and schools her features back into that careful neutrality.
“This conversation is over,” she mutters, turning on her heel. “If that’s all, I’ve got a run to finish.”
I take a step closer, not giving her the space she’s expecting. “Don’t go yet. I’m just trying to get to know you better.”
Her eyes narrow. “Is that so? Or are you just trying to get information for some other scheme of yours?”
I chuckle softly. “Maybe a little bit of both. But mostly… I’m curious. You’ve got a story, I can tell. Everyone does.”
Her lips tighten like she’s about to tell me to get lost, but instead, she surprises me. “You think you can figure me out that easily?”
I lean in slightly, close enough for her to feel my breath. “You’ve got a lot of secrets, don’t you?”
She’s silent, as if weighing her options. The pause stretches on longer than I expected.
Finally, she says, “You’re right about one thing. I do have secrets. But I guess you’ll never know.”
I smile. “We’ll see about that.”
And with that, I turn and walk off, leaving her behind, though I can almost hear the wheels turning in her head.
I let her go, but something about the whole exchange sticks with me.
Maybe it was the way she was so quick to act like everything was fine, or maybe it was the tightness in her voice when she talked about her husband.
***
When I get home, I find Enzo’s right-hand man, Sergio, waiting in my office. He doesn’t bother with pleasantries. Neither do I.
Sergio wasn’t an easy man to turn. Enzo trusted him for years—loyal, disciplined, the kind of soldier who didn’t ask questions. But everyone has a breaking point.
For Sergio, it was money at first. A few quiet deals, some extra cash slipped his way, nothing big enough to raise suspicion.
Then came the real leverage—his brother.
A gambling problem that had spiraled into a life-or-death situation with the wrong people.
Enzo? He didn’t lift a damn finger to help. Didn’t even pretend to care.
I did. Helping out with my police connect for a lighter sentence.
And that was the beginning of the end for his loyalty.
“Ready to move on this?” I ask, lowering myself into the chair, meeting his eyes head-on.
Sergio nods, his eyes cold. “We’ve got a plan in place. It should be quick. I know the drill. We take her, make it look like an accident, get her to you; no one’s the wiser.”
“Good,” I murmur, feeling a small surge of satisfaction.
The night comes faster than I expected, and by the time we’ve moved in on her, it’s almost too easy. Sergio and my men are swift and efficient, like shadows. The sedative works just as planned—one minute, she’s running, and the next, she’s unconscious in our hands.
I’m not proud of it. I don’t need to be. This is war.
When they bring her to me, she’s limp in their arms. Her breathing steady, but slow.
I look down at her with admiration. She’s tough, I’ll give her that. But she doesn’t stand a chance against me.
It’s time to make my move.
I sit back in the plush chair and my eyes lock on Vittoria as she remains unconscious on the floor, still and quiet. The sedative will wear off soon enough, but until then, there’s nothing to do but prepare. The game is in motion, and there’s no turning back now.
My right hand, Raffaele, knocks on the door before entering.
“Everything’s in place,” he says, his deep voice cutting through the stillness. He’s dressed in black, his usual attire, eyes scanning the room as if everything in it could be a threat.
“You got her here without a problem?” I ask, not looking away from Vittoria.
“Easy. You should’ve seen the way she passed out. Like clockwork.” His smirk is barely noticeable, but I catch it.
Raffaele stands a few feet away, still observing. He’s used to my methods, even if he doesn’t always agree with them. “She will be awake in a few hours, right?”
“Yeah,” I reply, glancing up at him. “We’ll move her when she’s coherent.”
Raffaele’s eyes narrow for a second, his eyes going back to Vittoria. “You sure you want to do this? I mean, it’s risky. If Enzo finds out…”
“Let him find out.”
The sound of footsteps echoes through the hall, followed by the creak of the door opening.
Dannika enters, her usual bright energy filling the space, though she seems to hesitate when she sees the scene in front of her. The sight of an unconscious woman on the floor is enough to make her stop short.
“What’s going on, sir?” she asks, her voice filled with concern, though there’s a hint of curiosity too. She’s always been like that—too curious for her own good sometimes.
“Nothing to worry about, Dannika,” I say, standing up and walking toward her, the weight of what I’ve just done hanging heavy on my chest. “Just a little… business.”