Chapter 3 #2
She raises an eyebrow but doesn’t push. Her eyes dart to the woman on the floor, then back to me. “I’ll make breakfast if that’s alright. I know you’ve got a lot on your mind, and I’m sure you haven’t eaten.”
I nod, grateful for the distraction. “Yeah, that’d be good.”
As she walks past, I can’t help but notice the way her eyes linger on me. I am not used to softness. She’s always had some sort of affection for me—something I’ve never reciprocated and done my fair share to ignore.
I focus back on Raffaele. He stands like he always does—solid, unshaken, like nothing in this world could so much as move him.
Broad shoulders, a lean build, and the sharp edges of his military past still evident.
Years in Afghanistan carved out every unnecessary movement from him, leaving only precision.
His face is unreadable with dark eyes fixed on me, waiting.
“We’ll get what we need and get her out of here before anyone notices.”
“Understood,” Raffaele says, his voice even, practical. No wasted words, no unnecessary questions. Then he’s gone, disappearing into the hall without another word.
Dannika returns shortly, carrying a tray of coffee and pastries. She sets it down on the table in front of me and her hands brush mine for just a second.
I don’t react, but I notice it. I’ve always noticed it.
“Anything else I can do?” she asks as she leans against the counter with that same soft smile. I can tell she’s still thinking about the woman in the room.
I hesitate. “No, just… stay out of sight for now. I’ve got things to handle.”
She nods, but an undeniable hint of regret lingers in her eyes before she turns and walks out.
The minutes tick by, and my thoughts are a mess. Vittoria is still out of it, but I revel in the knowledge that I now have the power to control her—control this whole situation. It’s a feeling I could get used to.
Still, something about her throws me off.
The hours crawl by slowly. Every tick of the clock, every movement in the house feels like a countdown. Even Dannika’s cheerful attempts at small talk don’t seem to lighten the mood. She stays in the background for the most part, which is fine. I’m not in the mood for distractions right now.
Raffaele reappears a few times, checking in on the situation and making sure everything is in place. It’s clear he’s on edge too. He is visibly tense, and though he hides it well, I can tell he’s waiting for something to go wrong.
Around noon, Vittoria starts to stir. Her eyelids flutter, and I watch as she shifts slightly, trying to make sense of her surroundings. It’s now or never.
I’m not sure what I expect to see when she wakes up, but I’m certainly not prepared for the fire in her eyes. She doesn’t scream or panic like I thought she might. Instead, her eyes lock onto mine, sharp and calculating.
“You,” she breathes, her still voice hoarse from the sedative.
I take a slow step forward. “I told you I’d see you again.”
“What the hell is this?” she demands and tries to sit up, but is clearly still groggy. “What have you done?”
“Nothing you’re not familiar with. You’re not the first person I’ve had to handle like this.”
Her hands instinctively go to her neck, as if trying to figure out how she’s been restrained, but there’s nothing to hold her in place except the simple fact that she knows she’s at my mercy.
“Who are you?” she asks, her eyes unfocused. She’s still trying to wrap her head around what’s happening right in front of her. That much is certain in the hard frown lines etched across her forehead. “What the hell do you want from me?”
“Ah, but you already know who I am.”
She shakes her head, her cheeks burning up with what I think is anger and a sliver of frustration. “You’re a pianist who nearly murdered a man in cold blood. But I haven’t done anything to you…”
“Try again,”
Her face hardens. “You’re insane.”
“Maybe. Or maybe you’re just not used to the way people like me operate.”
She glares at me.
She’s a lot tougher than I gave her credit for. But no amount of grit will help her out of this. I know that.
“You think Enzo will just let you get away with this?” she spits.
I lean in, my voice dropping to a low growl. “I don’t care what Enzo thinks.”
An awkward peace stretches between us. She’s searching my face for some crack in my armor, some weakness to exploit. But she’s not going to find it. Not with me.
“Why are you doing this? Who are you?” she asks, her voice softer now, almost pleading, but I know better than to buy it.
“Because I can,” I reply simply. “And because I need something from you. And for my identity, you’ll find out soon.”
She swallows, and her eyes narrow. “What?”
I’m about to answer when the door opens, and Raffaele steps in, his face impassive as always.
“We’ve got company,” he says, his tone clipped.
I exhale sharply and rub a hand over my jaw. Perfect fucking timing. “Who?”
“Valeri’s people,” Raffaele says. “And a couple of the other crews. Seems like word’s spreading that you’ve got something... interesting in your possession.” His eyes dart to the woman, then back to me.
I let out a slow breath, before rolling my shoulders. The last thing I want is an audience for this. Not now. Not with her. “They’re expecting to see her?”
“No,” Raffaele says, crossing his arms. “But they’re expecting something. And they’re not the kind of guys who take no for an answer.”
Valeri and his people aren’t a threat, not in the way some would be.
They’re businessmen, in their own way—calculating, self-serving, always looking for an angle.
If they know I’ve got something valuable, they’re not here to challenge me.
They’re here to figure out what’s in it for them.
And that means I have to control the narrative before they start making assumptions.
I look at the woman, who is still trying to figure out what is going on.
If they get a hint that I have her, it thwarts my plans.
The moment they think I’m holding her as leverage, they’ll start considering their own moves—whether they can profit off it, or how they can insert themselves into the situation. I don’t need that kind of interference.
Enzo must not see me coming.
Raffaele watches me carefully. “Want me to make them disappear?”
I smirk and shake my head. “Tempting. But no.”
He exhales, clearly not thrilled about entertaining them. “Then what’s the play?”
I push off the desk and roll my sleeves up. “Keep them away from this room. Make it clear that whatever they think they know, they don’t.”
Raffaele nods once. “And if they push?”
I meet his eyes. “Then we remind them whose house they’re in.”
A ghost of a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Understood.”
He turns to leave, but before he’s fully out the door, I call after him. “And Raffaele?”
He pauses and looks over his shoulder.
“If any of them so much as hint that they know about her, you shut it down. Immediately.”
His eyes darken just a little. “Got it.”
The door swings shut behind him, and I look back at the woman. She has no idea what kind of fire she’s been thrown into.
But soon, she will.
Calling for Dannika outside, I order, “Get her out of here.”
She nods and motions for two of my men to approach. “You heard him,” she says, not bothering to elaborate. “Move her.”
Vittoria’s eyes widen. She jerks against their grip. “What’s happening?” she demands. “You can’t do this!”
She twists and tries to fight, but it’s pointless. They’re too strong, too practiced at handling struggling captives.
Not long after, Raffaele returns.
“Lead me to them.”
He doesn’t move right away. Just looks at me, searching my face like he’s trying to read something I don’t want him to. It irritates the hell out of me.
Finally, he nods. “You got it, boss.”
I adjust my cuffs as Raffaele disappears down the hall. I hear the low murmur of voices as he steps outside, the unmistakable weight of men who think they have the right to stand in my house, waiting for my attention.
I take a deep breath and school my features to remain impassive. When I step into that room, I can’t let them see anything but control. No room for weakness.
Because in my world, the second someone senses an opening, they don’t hesitate to sink their teeth in.
And I’ll be damned if I let them think I’m bleeding.