Chapter 3
Vittorio
Iwatched her on the monitors, fingers steepled beneath my chin.
Two weeks. She'd been here two weeks, and already she'd catalogued every weakness in my security.
Six different camera angles captured Sophie as she wandered through the garden, her red hair catching fire in the afternoon sun.
Two weeks of careful observation, two weeks of unspoken challenges between us, and I was no closer to getting what I needed from her than when this began.
The surveillance room hummed with electricity, screens bathing my face in blue light as I tracked her movements.
She paused by the eastern perimeter, fingers trailing along the stone wall.
Then, she moved to examine the roses, lingering just long enough to appear casual before drifting toward the service entrance.
Clever girl.
"She's checking all the exit points," Enzo observed from behind me, his bulky frame reflected in the darkened screens.
"Yes." I leaned forward, watching as she chatted with one of the gardeners.
Her smile was easy, disarming. The old man pointed toward the greenhouse, and Sophie nodded, her body language relaxed while her eyes remained sharp, cataloging information.
"But she's not panicking. Look how methodical she is. "
Antonio had described her as emotional, impulsive. A beautiful liability. Yet the woman I observed was calculating each move like a chess player, three steps ahead.
I tell myself it's about escape routes, but I've memorized the way she moves, the stubborn set of her jaw. This isn't reconnaissance anymore.
"What are you thinking, boss?" Enzo shifted his weight.
I didn't answer immediately, watching as Sophie bent to smell a bloom, her face turned deliberately away from the camera. "I think Antonio was wrong about her."
"Wrong how?"
"He said she was nothing more than a pretty face. Easily manipulated." I tapped my finger against the desk. "That's not what I'm seeing."
Sophie straightened, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. The gesture seemed innocent, but her eyes flicked directly toward the hidden camera in the garden wall. She knew she was being watched. The corner of her mouth quirked up in the barest hint of a smile.
Something stirred in my chest. Something dangerous.
"Enzo, I want you to create an opportunity."
"Sir?"
"The eastern fence—leave it unlocked. Make it subtle, but noticeable to someone who's looking."
Enzo frowned. "You want her to escape?"
"I want to see what she'll do." I leaned back in my chair. "I want to understand who I'm dealing with."
When she reached the fence, she didn't immediately try to flee. Instead, she fingered the latch, testing it without fully opening it. Her gaze lifted to the camera mounted on a nearby tree, and for a moment, it felt like she was looking directly at me. A challenge in those green eyes.
She knew. And she wanted me to know that she knew.
She turned and walked back toward the house, unhurried, a small smile playing on her lips.
I felt the corner of my own mouth lift in response. This was no helpless victim. This was someone who understood the game.
"Interesting," I murmured.
I found her in the sunroom later that evening, curled in a wicker chair with a book open on her lap.
The setting sun cast her in gold and shadow, highlighting the curve of her neck, the delicate arch of her wrist. She didn't look up when I entered, though the slight tension in her shoulders betrayed her awareness.
"Enjoying your stay?" I asked, moving to the bar cart to pour two glasses of whiskey.
"The accommodations are lovely." She turned a page. "The company leaves something to be desired."
I chuckled, approaching with the drinks. "And yet you've made no attempt to leave."
Her eyes finally lifted to mine, cool and assessing. "Haven't I?"
"Testing the fence isn't the same as climbing it." I offered her a glass, which she accepted after a moment's hesitation. "If you wanted to escape, you'd have tried already."
"Maybe I'm biding my time."
"Maybe." I settled into the chair across from her. "Or maybe you've realized you're safer here than out there with Antonio hunting you."
Her fingers tightened around the glass. "I don't need your protection."
"Evidence suggests otherwise." I took a slow sip. "The garden was lovely today, wasn't it? I particularly enjoyed watching you catalog every exit, camera, and guard rotation."
The mask slipped for just a moment—surprise, quickly masked by indifference. "I was admiring the flowers."
"Of course." I leaned forward. "Just as you were admiring the eastern fence. The one Enzo conveniently left unlocked."
Her eyes narrowed. "You're testing me."
"And you're failing to be honest with either of us." I set my glass down. "What exactly is your plan here, Sophie? Wait until I trust you enough to lower my guard? Steal back the flash drive? Run back to Antonio?"
"I would never go back to him." The words came out like venom.
"Then what? What's your endgame?"
"Survival." She stood abruptly, moving to the window. "Something you wouldn't understand, being at the top of the food chain."
I followed, stopping just behind her. Close enough to feel the heat radiating from her body. "You think I don't understand survival? I wasn't born into this position, Sophie. I clawed my way here."
"By stepping on others."
"By doing what was necessary." My voice dropped lower. "Just like you're doing now."
She spun to face me, eyes blazing. "Don't pretend to know me."
"I know more than you think." I stepped closer, forcing her back against the window. "I know you're smarter than Antonio ever gave you credit for. I know you've been playing a role—the beautiful, harmless girlfriend—while gathering evidence against him."
Her breath caught. "You don't—"
"I know you're dangerous." Another step. "And I know that right now, you're calculating whether to try to seduce me or kill me."
For a heartbeat, she was perfectly still. Then she reached for the crystal decanter on the nearby table and hurled it past my head. It shattered against the wall, whiskey and glass exploding outward.
I didn't flinch. "If you're going to kill me, at least try harder."
Her chest heaved with fury, eyes wild. "You think you're so clever. You think you know everything."
"I know enough." I closed the distance between us. "I know Antonio beat you."
The color drained from her face. "How—"
"The bruises you tried to hide. The way you flinch at sudden movements. The fear in your eyes when his name is mentioned." I reached out, not touching her, my hand hovering near her cheek. "What I don't know is why you stayed with him as long as you did."
"Stop." Her voice cracked.
"Why gather evidence instead of just running?"
"I said stop!" She shoved against my chest, but I caught her wrists.
"Tell me the truth, Sophie. Why risk everything for that flash drive?"
She yanked her arms from my grip, fury flashing in her eyes. "We've already been through this."
"Say it again."
"Why? So you can pretend you didn't hear me the first time?"
I stepped closer. "Because every time I look at you, I start to wonder if any of this is real."
She let out a bitter laugh. "You want me to repeat the part where your brother traffics girls and launders blood money? Or the part where I was stupid enough to think someone would actually believe me?"
I didn't answer. I was too busy watching the storm behind her eyes. She was shaking—but not from fear. From frustration. From exhaustion. From anger that no one had believed her, not even me.
"You think I made it up?" she asked, voice low. "You think I stitched together bank accounts and fake names and locked it all in a drive for fun?"
"I think…" I exhaled. "I think I don’t know what to think anymore."
"Then don’t ask me to prove it again. Just do what you’re going to do." Her voice broke on the last word, and I hated myself for what I'd put in her eyes.
We stood there, breaths ragged with fury and something else—something electric and dangerous that had been building since the moment I'd pulled her into my car.
"You're not just some pawn in Antonio’s game," I murmured, my fingers grazing her throat, feeling the tremor of her pulse beneath my touch.
She trembled, not from fear but from something she didn't want to name. Something that mirrored the heat coursing through my own veins.
"Then stop treating me like I am," she whispered.
That was all it took. I'd spent my entire adult life maintaining iron control over my emotions, my desires, my impulses.
But this woman—this infuriating, beautiful, unbreakable woman—had been systematically dismantling that control with every defiant glance, every challenge, every moment she refused to submit.
My control snapped like a frayed wire. I crashed my mouth against hers, desperate and claiming.
She responded with equal fury, her nails digging into my shoulders, pulling me closer instead of pushing me away.
What started against the window moved to my desk, papers scattering beneath her as I lifted her onto the polished surface. Her legs wrapped around my waist, skirt hiking up her thighs. I buried my face in her neck, inhaling the scent of her skin as she arched against me.
"I shouldn't want this," she gasped as my hands found the zipper of her dress.
"Neither should I," I growled, dragging the fabric down her shoulders.
There was nothing gentle about it. We collided like storms, all lightning and thunder, weeks of tension finally breaking. Her fingers tore at my shirt, sending buttons skittering across the floor. I pushed her dress up, my hands gripping her thighs hard enough to bruise.
When I finally thrust into her, she cried out, back arching off the desk. I covered her mouth with mine, swallowing the sound as we moved together in desperate rhythm. It was angry, passionate, primal—both of us taking what we'd been denying we wanted.
She came apart beneath me, nails scoring down my back, my name a broken prayer on her lips. I followed moments later, burying my face in her hair as pleasure tore through me with unexpected violence.
Reality crashed back like cold water. My chest heaved as I stared down at her—hair disheveled, lips swollen, looking as shaken as I felt. Neither of us spoke. The weight of what had just happened hung between us like a loaded gun.
For several heartbeats, we remained frozen—my forehead pressed against hers, our breathing ragged, the scent of sex and expensive cologne heavy in the air.
Her fingers slowly unclenched from my shirt, leaving wrinkled fabric in their wake.
I became acutely aware of her legs still wrapped around my waist, of how perfectly she fit against me, of the way her pulse hammered beneath my lips when I'd kissed her throat.
The spell broke when papers crinkled beneath us—scattered documents from my desk, now crumpled and displaced.
The reminder of where we were, what had just happened, hit like a physical blow.
I pulled back carefully, helping her sit up, my hands steadying her as she swayed slightly.
Her dress had twisted around her waist, her hair falling in wild tangles around her shoulders.
There was something raw and beautiful about her dishevelment that made my chest tighten dangerously.
Neither of us spoke as I stepped back, putting distance between us while she smoothed her skirt with trembling hands. The silence stretched, heavy with things neither of us was ready to acknowledge.
I straightened, fixing my trousers, jaw clenched against the tide of conflicting emotions. Sophie’s chin raised defiantly despite the vulnerability in her eyes.
"This was a mistake," I said, voice rough.
"Was it?" she challenged.
I couldn't answer. What could I say? That for those brief minutes, I’d forgotten everything—who she was, who I was, the danger we were both in. I'd never lost control like that before.
Instead, I moved toward the door. "Get some rest. Tomorrow, we pretend this never happened."
What the hell did I just do? She's leverage—Antonio's weakness that I'm supposed to exploit. But in those few brief moments, she felt like… mine. That was the most dangerous thought I've ever had.
As I reached for the door handle, my phone rang. I answered, grateful for the interruption.
"We have a problem." Enzo's voice crackled through the speaker.
I turned, jaw clenched. "What now?"
Enzo appeared in the doorway, holding out a different phone. "This came through our secure line."
I took it, pressing it to my ear. Antonio's voice played through the speaker:
"I know you have her. Tell my brother I'm coming."