Chapter 7
Vittoria
The evening feels heavy with humidity. It sticks to my skin as I stand on my bedroom balcony.
I suppose I should be grateful that Dario’s reign of terror doesn’t extend into my living space.
At least here, I can stand without worrying about a bullet finding me.
Sometimes, I think about the basement he put me in when I first arrived.
It’s a miracle I’m not still chained down there, wasting away in the dark.
At least here, I can think. Even if all I’m left with are the things that bother me most.
The sun dips lower, casting streaks of gold and amber across the sky. My fingers rest lightly on the railing, my mind lost in thoughts of Enzo.
I miss him. The way his arms felt around me, the way he kissed me like I was the only thing that mattered. He has always been my home, my safe place. The only man I have ever known, ever loved. The thought of him sends a deep ache through my chest.
Is he looking for me? He must be. Enzo would move the earth to find me. He wouldn’t stop. He wouldn’t rest. And yet, I am still here, tucked away in Dario Bellini’s world, out of reach.
How? How has Dario managed to keep me hidden this long? The thought unsettles me. Perhaps Dario isn’t just dangerous—perhaps he’s calculated and methodical. A man who doesn’t make mistakes, at least that’s what I’ve allowed myself to believe in the little time I’ve stayed here, watching the man.
I love my husband but why does Dario Bellini make something stir inside me—something I don’t understand and don’t want to name? It’s wrong. It has to be.
From here, a movement below catches my eye.
Dario stands near the pool, his posture relaxed and his phone is in his hand.
Even from here, he commands attention. He looks up, and our eyes meet.
A hint of something unreadable passes through his eyes before he gives a nod to one of his men.
I don’t need to hear him to know what that means.
A few moments later, footsteps approach behind me.
“Let’s go,” a voice grunts.
I turn back, catching sight of one of his men. I don’t know his name, but he’s built like a refrigerator and about as warm as one. With no other choice, I follow him through the sprawling house until we reach a set of glass doors leading outside.
The pool area is bathed in the dim glow of underwater lights, casting long shadows across the deck. Dario is now in it, phone pressed to his ear, expression impassive. Even without saying a word, he owns the space.
I stop near the edge of the pool, waiting. His call is in Russian, and though I can’t understand a word, his tone is biting and makes me suspect someone on the other end is having a very bad day.
He carries an Italian name, but I’ve heard him speak Russian before—once or twice, never enough to piece together the full story. The thought comes naturally: there must be more to this man than meets the eye. I’m sure he isn’t Russian. Or is he?
Who really is he?
He paces, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose for a brief moment before running through his hair. Frustration tightens his features as irritation fills the space between us, looming like a storm on the horizon.
Minutes pass before Dario’s eyes move to me, but he keeps talking into the phone. Another minute. Then another. When he finally hangs up, he exhales through his nose and looks at me fully.
“Your husband.”
The words land like a stone, but I keep my face neutral. “What about him?”
“I need to know everything about his business.”
I cross my arms. “I don’t know what to tell you. Enzo doesn’t share details with me. And if you think kidnapping me is going to make him hand over money or whatever it is you want, then you’re more delusional than I thought.”
"Delusional? Because your husband doesn’t care enough about you to pay a few million, something I'm sure he can afford?"
I scoff. “You’re delusional because Enzo loves me more than you can imagine, and he won’t rest until he finds me. So go ahead—name your price. You’ll see how fast he comes.”
Dario’s jaw tightens. “Yet here you are. Still. So tell me—who’s the delusional one?”
“Are you insinuating that my husband doesn’t love me?”
“I didn’t say anything. The fact that you did speaks for itself.”
I roll my eyes, sick of his smug face, his stupid games and his even stupider smirk. Sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong. Of course, Enzo loves me. He wouldn’t have let me leave if he hadn’t.
I exhale, trying to keep my frustration in check. “Is there a reason you dragged me out here?”
Dario leans back slightly, smirking. “What, I can’t invite my favorite bestie/prisoner for a swim and a drink?”
I snort. “Oh, so this is some twisted version of ‘keep your friends close and your enemies closer’? Hate to break it to you, but we’re never going to be friends.”
“Cute. But I wasn’t planning on being your enemy either.” His eyes drag slowly over my body, lingering in a way that makes my breath hitch.
I swallow hard and force myself to stay still, refusing to let him see the way my pulse betrays me. My whole body screams at me to jump into the pool with him, to let him press me against the cool tiles and—Fuck. Muscle memory.
A sick joke my body still plays on me, like a dog returning to a master who only ever kicked it
I force out a laugh, trying to cover the way my skin feels too hot. “You must make a habit of messing with people.”
Dario tilts his head. “Not my first time.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not interested in whatever game you’re playing. So if you’re done, I’d like to go back to my room.”
His eyes lock onto mine, and the amusement vanishes from his face. “I don’t play games, princess. You should know that by now.”
“Is that so? Wouldn’t have guessed,” I reply sarcastically.
He laughs and licks his lips in that sinful way that has me questioning why I’m still standing here. He didn’t exactly tie me down, so why the fuck haven’t I stormed off yet?
“Vittoria Falco,” he says, letting my name linger for a beat. “You’re not exactly what you seem, are you?”
“You don’t know me well enough to start making assumptions.”
“Maybe. But I like to know who I’m dealing with.” He winks. “And I’m thinking you’re not as simple as you look.”
I say nothing for a moment, debating whether I should call out his bullshit or engage in this strange back-and-forth. Finally, I exhale in frustration and look him dead in the eye. “If you want something, just say it. I don’t have time for games.”
“Funny,” he says, still smirking. “I was going to say the same thing.”
I narrow my eyes. “I don’t know what you’re after, but I’m not afraid of you.”
“Oh, I know you’re not afraid,” he replies easily. “But you’re curious. And that’s enough for me.”
“Let me guess,” I say, my voice suddenly colder. “You think you can use me somehow. Against my husband.”
“Maybe,” he answers, his grin not quite reaching his eyes before he steps out of the pool. “Or maybe I just want to fuck you.”
My jaw tightens and I swallow.
My eyes trail over him now, taking in the way the water clings to his inked skin, the defined muscles of his chest, the hard lines of his abs leading down to the perfect V disappearing beneath the waistband of his soaked swim trunks.
They cling to him, doing nothing to hide the heavy outline beneath.
He holds my stare for a moment before stepping closer, and suddenly, it’s hard to breathe.
“See something you like, princess?” His voice goes low with that twist that makes goosebumps rise on my skin. “Or are you the delusional one who refuses to acknowledge what’s happening here?”
I gulp. “Nothing is happening.”
He chuckles darkly. “You sure about that?”
He takes another step, and it’s like I can feel the heat radiating off his skin, pulling me in against my will.
“The way we look at each other.” His voice drops even lower. “How we both secretly wonder what it would be like. To give in to our desires. To kiss until we can’t breathe. To touch every inch of our bodies, to fuck like it’s the last day we have on this goddamn earth.”
My stomach drops. He says it so plainly, like it’s already decided. Like I have no say in it.
Because I don’t.
His voice is controlled, but there’s something beneath it.
Something I can’t quite place. I stare at him, searching for a crack, but Dario Bellini is nothing if not a fortress.
Impenetrable. So I do what I do best—I build my own walls, brick by brick, hiding behind them so he doesn’t see what he does to me.
“I want only my husband.” The words taste like a lie, and we both know it. His smirk deepens.
“I’ll return you to your husband, princess,” he murmurs.
“But not until I’ve had my fill of you. Not until I’ve fucked you in every position I’ve imagined.
Until I’ve consumed every part of you that makes you think you love him.
” He tilts his head, voice turning lethal.
“Yes, I’m going to use you as leverage against Enzo, but first, I’ll break you, until there’s nothing left of you for him to love. ”
I shake my head, my pulse pounding. “What is this even about? What happened between you two?”
His expression shifts, darkens.
I lift a brow. “What, is this over a girl?”
Nothing.
“Or did he steal something from you?”
A muscle in his jaw ticks. Bingo.
Dario’s calmness is clearly a warning, but I ignore it. “Come on, tell me. What did he do to piss you off this badly?”
“You’re asking the wrong questions.”
I tilt my head. “Am I?”
His patience snaps. One second he’s standing a few feet away, the next he’s out of the pool and right in front of me, crowding into my space, his presence a force that pushes against my skin.
“When Enzo comes for you, you’ll be just a shadow of your former self.”
A chill skates down my spine. “What the hell does that mean?”