Chapter 14
Vittoria
I see it clearly now.
Enzo never loved me. Not in any way that matters. Not in a way that isn’t about power and control. And now that he knows I’ve been in Dario’s bed, he’s going to kill me for it.
He could’ve saved me that night. He didn’t.
He let that man corner me—let me feel that sick, breathless terror—and probably watched from somewhere, swirling a drink in his hand. Of course he did. Because that’s exactly the kind of man Enzo is.
Sick. Twisted. Depraved. He doesn’t just crave control—he thrives on it, drinks it in like a fine liquor, savoring every second of someone realizing they’re utterly at his mercy.
He is my husband, and I love him. At least, that’s what I used to tell myself.
But now, with Dario in the mix, I see it for what it really was.
It was never love. Not the kind that lasts, the kind that matters.
It was something else entirely—forced and manipulated into me until I stopped questioning it.
And when it’s all you’ve ever known, when it’s the only version of affection you’ve been given, you don’t fight it.
You hold onto it. Because the alternative is worse.
The alternative is admitting you were never loved at all.
God, Dario.
His voice is still in my head, scraping against the inside of my skull and dragging up wounds I didn’t know I had.
What Enzo’s father did to him. What Enzo did. The way he looked at me after, waiting to see if I’d still try to defend the man who made his life hell. I couldn’t. Not after that. I could barely breathe through the weight of it or barely think past the realization of what I’d aligned myself with.
And he knew it. He saw it in my face, in the way my hands shook, in the way I suddenly felt like I was the one who needed to beg for forgiveness.
Enzo wanted me to understand what was coming. That he knew. That I wasn’t safe. That he wasn’t going to protect me.
And Dario—
Enzo must have known exactly how he’d react. How he’d never let something like that slide. That was the point. He was pushing Dario into making this war official, forcing him to retaliate. And once he did, Enzo would have his excuse to go after him with everything he had.
I was never the goal. I was bait. And now I’m expendable.
I shove the last of my things into the small duffel bag, not that I have much that was originally mine.
Clothes I first wore here, toiletries, and the few books that had been left in my room.
The room is silent except for the sound of fabric rustling and the steady, robotic breathing of the guard stationed at the door.
He hasn’t said a word since he was assigned to watch me.
Just stares, unblinking, hand never far from his gun.
I don’t bother looking at him. I don’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he makes my skin crawl.
They gave me my phone back. A small mercy, or maybe another test.
Once I stepped into the hallway after leaving Dario’s office, I could swear I caught Dannika smirking as she passed. She stuck her tongue out and muttered something under her breath before disappearing around the corner.
I’m still processing her reaction and everything that has happened before my phone buzzes in my hand.
A message.
My stomach drops as I open it.
Enzo: You really think you can spread your legs for my enemy and walk away? After everything I’ve done for you? I should have let you die. But I’ll make sure you do soon enough. Right after I put a bullet between his eyes.
I reread it three times. It’s not a threat. It’s a promise.
Enzo wants me dead. I should have known it the second he let me fend for myself. It wasn’t a mistake. It wasn’t cowardice. He wanted to make a statement. He wanted me to understand that I don’t belong to him anymore—not because I left, but because I’ve outlived my usefulness.
Enzo knows exactly what he’s doing. He’s been playing the long game, and I was too stupid to see it.
I zip up the bag and grip my phone so tightly it might crack. I don’t remember turning around. Don’t remember my feet carrying me down the hall, past the guard, past the rooms I’ve been confined to. I just know there’s only one person who can help me now.
I have to find Dario.
Of course, he doesn’t want to see me.
Rafa blocks the office door with his entire body. "He’s busy."
"I don’t care."
His brow lifts, unimpressed. "Yeah? And I don’t care that you don’t care."
"Rafa—"
"He doesn’t want to see you."
I inhale sharply and swallow down the sting. "He’ll want to see this."
I shove my phone toward him, screen still glowing with Enzo’s message. His expression doesn’t change, but I see the way his jaw tightens, the way his fingers flex at his sides. He jerks his head toward the office door. "Knock."
I don’t hesitate.
The second I step inside, I know things are different. Dario doesn’t look at me. Doesn’t even acknowledge me. He’s behind his desk and flips through a file like I’m an annoying disruption he can’t wait to be rid of.
That slow and searing way he used to look at me with the entirety of his focus pressing into me like he could see straight through my skin—it’s gone. And somehow, that cuts deeper than anything else.
“What do you want?”
I throw my phone onto his desk. He glances at it, unimpressed, until he reads the message. Then his expression shifts, but only slightly. Just a gleam of something colder in his eyes before they settle into that same detached stare.
“I need your protection,” I say. “He’s going to kill me.”
He doesn’t look up. "That’s not my problem."
"It is if he comes for you first."
Dario leans back in his chair, then exhales loudly but still doesn’t look up. "Enzo’s been coming for me for years. Nothing new there."
I step closer, then grip the back of the chair across from him.
"He’s not playing anymore, Dario. He wanted you to react that night.
He wanted to push you into a war. He wanted me dead in the crossfire, and he didn’t care how it happened.
He’s not just coming for you. He’s trying to pull you apart, piece by piece. "
Dario closes the file, finally looking at me. "And why should I keep you safe?"
I swallow. “Because I know things. Things you don’t. I can give you information—”
“I don’t need your scraps.” His voice is even. Too even. “You think I’d risk my people, my home, my life, because you’re suddenly afraid of the man you married?”
I swallow hard. “I was never afraid of him before.”
“No. Because you were on his side and doing his bidding like a little lap dog.”
I force myself to meet his eyes. “I came here to betray you,” I admit. “That’s true. I was supposed to keep you distracted, feed him information. But I stopped. I couldn’t go through with it. Not since–”
“Not since we started fucking.”
He studies me. I can’t tell what he’s looking for, but whatever it is, he doesn’t find it.
He leans back, watching me with the cool detachment of a man who has nothing left to lose. "And what can you give me?"
I hesitate. The words taste like betrayal. Maybe they are. But Enzo threw me to the wolves, and I’m done pretending I owe him anything.
"I know how he funds his operations," I say. "I know where he launders his money. And I know how you can find Vincenzo Moretti."
Dario doesn’t move but I see the shift—the quick, precise calculation behind his eyes.
“And how do you know I’m looking for him?”
“Because I’ve heard you mention the name once or twice and I know Enzo’s been paranoid since he went AWOL.”
“Ok. But that bastard is good at not being found. I’ve been hunting him for months. My last lead took me to Naples, but it’s like he saw me coming. Vanished before I even had a chance.”
I let the stillness hang for a second. Then, quietly, “Vigo has a daughter.”
Dario’s eyes widen.
“She’s six,” I continue. “No one knows about her because he lost custody years ago, but I used to buy her gifts on Enzo’s behalf. Enzo doesn’t even know she exists. Find her, and you’ll find him.”
A pause. Then, Dario exhales slowly and shakes his head. "And how can I trust you? After all, you've had no problems fucking me while lying to me all along."
I swallow against the sting, but it lodges deep. His eyes—once warm, once wanting—are cold now, empty of everything I’d foolishly let myself crave. I can’t stand it. I want to claw my way back into his good graces, but there’s no path left. I burned it myself.
"I don’t have a choice." My voice is barely more than a whisper, but it’s the truest thing I’ve ever said. "I won’t be stupid enough to deceive you a second time. I know you’ll kill me without hesitation this time."
Something shifts behind his eyes, too fast to catch.
Another pause. Then, finally—“You can stay. But only because killing you right now would be inconvenient. You’ll tell me everything I don’t already know about Enzo. And when this is over, I never want to see you again. I will kill you if I do.”
His voice is casual, like we’re discussing the weather. Like I don’t matter at all.
“Understood.”
He pushes my phone back toward me. “You work for me now."
There it is. The deal with the devil. And yet, as I nod, accepting the terms, all I can think about is the way he doesn’t look at me the same way anymore. How I used to catch him looking at me like he wanted me. Like he was fighting against something that pulled him in anyway. Now there’s nothing.
I lost him. Not that he was ever really mine.