19. Vasilisa
Chapter 19
Vasilisa
I nside the house, Santo introduces me to Lila—a young housekeeper with warm brown eyes and an easy, inviting smile. She tells me that Mrs. Keen, Santo’s favorite and longest-serving employee, will be back in a week.
Lila is a little older than me, but younger than Santo. There’s something gentle about her, something that puts me at ease despite myself.
As soon as Santo disappears into his office, she zeroes in on me, linking her arm through mine like we’ve known each other for years.
“Oh, your outfit is stunning,” she gushes, eyes sweeping over me. “And your hair? Your makeup? Seriously, girl, you’re gorgeous.”
I blink at her, caught off guard by the enthusiasm, the warmth. Compliments aren’t foreign to me, but… this feels different. Like she’s trying to put me at ease.
Instinctively, my gaze flickers toward Santo’s office.
Lila leans in close, her voice lowering conspiratorially. “Mr. Amato works a lot, but he is totally obsessed with you.”
My breath catches. My head jerks toward her, brows knitting together. “What do you mean?”
She grins, leading me upstairs, her steps light and secretive. “I like to know about everything that happens in this house,” she admits with a mischievous gleam in her eyes. “Mrs. Keen hates it—scolds me all the time for gossiping—but I just can’t help myself.”
I’m not sure what to do with that information, so I just listen as she pulls me along, past grand hallways and polished banisters.
When we reach the master bedroom, she opens the door, then shuts it behind us with a soft click.
“This is the only room in the house without audio.”
I freeze. “…What?”
Lila laughs lightly, flopping onto the couch like she just told me something as simple as the weather.
“Oh yeah. The whole house has cameras inside and out. But this room?” She exhales in relief. “No audio. Just video.”
I scan the room, my pulse quickening. “How do you know that?”
Lila winks, tucking her legs under her. “A pretty face gets a lot of information around here.”
She tosses her hair over her shoulder, her voice turning coy. “You flirt a little, they give a little.”
I hesitate before sinking onto the couch beside her. Something about her confidence makes me uneasy—but not in a bad way. More like she’s… too bold for this house.
Lila suddenly turns serious, her tone dropping. “Not you though.”
I glance at her, confused. “Excuse me?”
“You shouldn’t flirt with the guards. Unless you want Santo to take care of them.”
I still.
“Take care of them?”
Lila doesn’t hesitate. “Yeah. Get rid of them. Kill them. End their lives.”
She says it casually, like it’s just a flippant fact.
“Anyway,” she sighs, stretching, “I heard Santo had Luca follow you around before you got married. Even took pictures of you.”
My stomach lurches.
“What?”
She nods, like it’s nothing. “One of the guards said he was pissed about… Peter? Pasco?”
My throat tightens. “…Pietro?”
Lila snaps her fingers. “Yes! That’s the one. And Jude—the mayor’s son, right?”
“Yes, Jude and I were together for some time,” I say quietly, avoiding eye contact as I pick at my nails nervously.
Lila’s eyes light up. Her lips curve into a devious little smirk.
“I hear he’s well-endowed,” she whispers, like she’s telling me a scandalous secret. “How was he?”
Heat rushes to my face.
I choke on air.
Lila bursts into laughter, the sound echoing around the room.
“Oh, girl, don’t be shy!” she teases. “I didn’t mean to pry.” She winks. “I’m just curious.”
I blink at her, still mortified.
In my family, no one talked about sex. It wasn’t a conversation. The only thing I was ever told was not to have sex—or Maksim would kill me.
And while I never believed he’d actually kill me, I heeded the warning.
Lila must sense my discomfort because the laughter dies down, leaving behind something quieter.
A pause. A shift.
Then, smoothly, she changes the subject.
“Oh, look at us getting all distracted.” She pops up from the couch, brushing herself off. “Let me finish showing you around.”
I let out a slow breath, grateful for the escape.
We spend the next hour exploring different parts of the house—rooms adorned with exquisite art pieces, hidden corners with lavish decorations, and she even tells me about an indoor swimming pool. She advises me to wait until Santo shows me that himself.
She keeps the conversation light, entertaining, regaling me with stories about the house—some outrageous, some believable. I’m not sure which to trust, but I find myself enjoying her company.
Until she slows. Her laughter dies off, replaced by something quieter, tenser. I frown as she glances over her shoulder, checking the hallway behind us. I’m about to ask what’s wrong when I hear it.
A voice.
Santo’s voice.
But not the one I know.
“Your incompetence is unacceptable.” The words are sharp, precise, and cold enough to make my blood run cold.
Santo’s voice… it’s different now—darker, harsher.
“Please, Mr. Amato, we didn’t—” Another voice stammers, but Santo cuts them off.
“Don’t waste my time with excuses. You had one job, and you failed. The Turks are mocking us now, undermining my authority because of you. Do you have any idea what that means ?”
The silence that follows is deafening, and I feel Lila’s grip tighten on my arm, her unease almost contagious. Still, I can’t bring myself to walk away. I take a step closer, leaning just enough to catch a glimpse through the crack in the door.
Santo stands in the center of the room, towering over two men who look like they’d rather disappear into the floor than face him. His stance is rigid, his hands curled into loose fists at his sides. The air around him seems almost charged, as if his fury alone could suffocate the room. His back is to me, but his presence is overwhelming.
“I don’t want apologies,” he continues, his voice dropping lower, almost a growl. “I want results. Fail me again, and you’ll wish the Turks had killed you themselves.”
One of the men flinches as if the words are a physical blow. The other stammers out a desperate promise to fix things, but Santo doesn’t respond. He just stands there, silent and unyielding, like a storm waiting to break.
“Vasilisa,” Lila hisses under her breath, tugging at my arm. “Let’s go.”
Her voice is urgent.
For the first time since I heard him speak, I exhale.
Slowly, I step back.
My pulse hammers in my chest as I let Lila pull me away, her grip firm—almost desperate. We move quickly, slipping down another hallway, and only when we’re far enough does she finally release me.
Lila exhales sharply, pressing a hand to her chest.
The usual brightness in her face is gone, replaced by something serious. Something wary.
She glances over her shoulder before leaning in, voice hushed.
“Vasilisa, you should know… Santo is not all that he appears to be.”
Her words hang between us, heavy, unshakable.
I blink, caught off guard by the sudden shift in her demeanor. “What do you mean?”
She hesitates, chewing on her lower lip before speaking again.
“Promise me you’ll be careful,” she implores earnestly. “There’s more to this house... and Santo... than meets the eye.”
Before I can press her for more, a throat clears behind us, and Lila’s eyes widen.
Slowly, I turn.
Santo stands just a few feet away.
His dark gaze is locked onto mine. The air feels heavier suddenly, charged with an intensity I don’t fully understand.
“Lila,” he says smoothly, his voice a low rumble that somehow fills the entire hallway. His gaze never strays from mine. “Could you give us a moment?”
Lila’s spine straightens. Her voice is steady when she replies, but there’s something strained beneath it. “Certainly, Mr. Amato.”
She doesn’t even look at me before slipping away down the hall, her steps brisk, leaving me alone with him.
I inhale carefully. Steady. “Santo—”
He lifts a hand, just slightly, shaking his head. A quiet, deliberate motion. Calm. In control.
“What were you two discussing?” His tone is light. Almost casual.
But his eyes betray him.
They are sharp. Unrelenting. Pinning me in place like a wolf waiting for its prey to twitch.
My pulse skips. I remind myself to breathe.
“Just… things about the house.”
The words leave my lips before I can second-guess them, but I know. He hears the hesitation.
Santo steps closer. Not fast. Not aggressive. Just slow, deliberate. His presence fills the space between us, pulling the air from my lungs.
His eyes search mine, looking for cracks, for anything I might be keeping from him. I don’t break his gaze. Even as my pulse thunders in my ears.
He studies me for a moment longer, then exhales softly, as if coming to a decision.
He steps past me, reaching for the library door.
“Come in.”
The words are smooth. Unquestionable.
I hesitate for half a second before following him inside.
The grand library looms around me, but its beauty does little to ease the tension curling at the base of my spine.
Santo gestures for me to sit.
I don’t.
He shuts the door behind us with a quiet finality.
“Did Lila mention anything else?”
His voice is measured now, slower, like he’s leaving room for me to reveal something I shouldn’t.
I swallow. Take a gamble.
“She warned me.” I hold his gaze. “That there’s more to this house… and to you… than meets the eye.”
The silence stretches.
His expression doesn’t shift—not immediately.
Then, to my utter surprise, a low chuckle escapes his lips. It’s soft. Almost indulgent.
He runs a hand through his dark hair, shaking his head slightly. “She’s quite imaginative, isn’t she?”
His calmness unsettles me more than anger would have. I don’t know if I feel relieved or even more wary.
Letting out a slow, careful breath, I try to gather my thoughts. “Santo…”
I don’t know what I’m going to say, but he doesn’t let me finish.
His fingers brush against my arm, light, warm, grounding.
“Vasilisa.” My name is a murmur, spoken softly, pulling me closer despite myself.
His hand moves, tilting my chin up. Not forceful, but commanding. His touch lingers. I’m forced to meet his gaze.
His dark eyes are no longer stormy, but warm. Pulling me in.
“If you have any questions or doubts, ask me directly.”
His voice is softer now. Intimate.
His fingers fall away, leaving behind a phantom warmth on my skin.
For a moment, I lose myself in the quiet between us. The grand library fades into the background, Santo standing before me like something carved from shadow and fire.
And then, his tone shifts, pulling me back to reality.
“Just one more thing.”
I brace myself.
His next words send a chill down my spine.
“There is surveillance all over the house, including the sitting room in the master bedroom… audio included.”
I still.
“…Santo.” His name escapes me in a whisper. My mind racing to recall every word I spoke in there. But beneath the rush of thoughts, something else blooms.
Trust.
He didn’t have to tell me. He could’ve let me stay in ignorance. But he chose to warn me.
Santo watches me carefully, then gestures toward the easels set up by the window.
“You should paint.”
The shift is effortless. Like this is nothing. Like he didn’t just remind me how much power he holds.
“I’ll have Winnie send up a snack since you missed lunch.”
“Winnie?” I echo, still trying to catch up.
“One of the staff.”
“Like Lila?”
His lips curve. Something dark. Amused.
“Just. Like. Lila.”
A pause.
“Actually, Lila could use a nice, long vacation.”
Before I can process what that means, he turns, heading for the double doors.
His presence leaves as swiftly as it came.