CHAPTER 38
The morning light cut through the blinds in thin, clean lines pale and gold against the dark of Marcello’s study. The air smelled faintly of coffee and smoke, the kind that lingered in silence long after the conversation ended.
Marcello leaned back in his chair, the phone still in his hand, Luca’s voice fading into memory.
The call had been brief, a quick update about the meeting with the Mexicans, Dante, the routes, the schedules.
Efficient and unemotional. Like always.
He’d answered in his usual tone calm, controlled, every word measured.
But as soon as the line went dead, the room felt heavier.
He set the phone down slowly, the faint click echoing louder than it should have.
For a moment, he just sat there elbows on the desk, fingers steepled against his lips. His jaw flexed once, then again .. He was coming back ..Fuck
And Mia
They had been getting closer the past few days... He’d see her sometimes, pass by the study door with a soft hum or the sound of her bare feet padding against the floor.
Every time, it twisted something inside him and he’d just look up from whatever file he was pretending to read, and his chest would tighten at the sight her hair falling down her shoulders, her sleeves swallowing her hands, her eyes downcast when she noticed him watching and he'd give up his work to spend time with her.
It was stupid, maybe, how easily she’d become part of the house, apart of him .
...and how quickly she’d softened its edges.
And now, with Luca’s voice still echoing faintly in his head, all Marcello could think about was how wrong it would look, the picture of their little relationship , when Luca came back.
He exhaled slowly and leaned back, the chair creaking under the shift of his weight. His hand brushed across his jaw rough and unshaven then fell against the desk again.
He shouldn’t have let her stay.
He knew that.
Every time her eyes lifted to meet his, soft and trusting, it made the line blur even more. The promise he’d made to her brother… it was starting to feel like a joke.
He’d meant it that night when he told himself to stay away from the temptress.
But then she cried in his arms and he broke every rule that made sense.
Now, he couldn’t stop replaying it. The warmth of her small hands gripping his shirt the tremble in her voice when she’d asked if he promised not to yell at her again.
The way she’d fallen asleep against his chest like she trusted him more than anyone else in the world.
He’d stayed until dawn, listening to the rhythm of her breathing and his mind remembered the way it felt. The peace. The ache. The danger.
And now with Luca coming back, things would get difficult. Marcello rubbed a hand over his face, leaning back again, eyes on the window but seeing nothing.
Luca had no idea.
He didn’t know what happened that night.
He didn't know how close Marcello had come to losing control or how much he still wanted to... What if he found out...what then? Would he take her away from him...
Then he imagined it, the look in Luca’s eyes, the fury, the betrayal. Marcello had seen men break for less, he’d killed men for less. And yet, the thought of losing her of watching her walk out of his house and out of his reach made his stomach twist harder than the idea of a gun to his own head.
He leaned forward again, elbows braced on his knees, palms clasped.
This was a mistake. Keeping her here. Letting himself feel.
But every time he thought about letting her go, he remembered her voice small and tired when he broke her heart and the promise he made not to do that again.
He’d kept that promise.
And he’d keep every other one she ever asked of him, even if it burned everything else to ash.
Marcello’s gaze dropped to the floor, a faint smirk ghosting at the corner of his mouth not from amusement, but the bitter irony of it all.
He’d built his name on fear. Power. Control.
But one girl soft and heartbreakingly gentle had undone him completely.
He ran a hand through his hair and sighed, eyes flicking once more toward the window.Then came the faintest knock three gentle taps against the door, hesitant, polite.
He didn’t answer at first. He knew who it was, he had told her so many times that she didn't have to knock but she was too good for this world.
For a moment, he just sat there, letting the stillness stretch, the sound of his own pulse breaking through it. His throat felt dry, his chest heavier than before.
“Marcello?”
Her voice slipped through the crack of the door, soft and uncertain the way it always was when she wasn’t sure if she was interrupting.
Something in him loosened.
He set the pen down, straightened in his chair, and cleared his throat before answering quietly, but firm.
“Come in.”
The door creaked open just enough for her to peek inside, and then she stepped in, slow and cautious, like she wasn’t sure she was allowed.
Her hair was still damp at the ends, curling slightly around her shoulders, and she wore one of those soft sweaters she seemed to drown in the sleeves covering her hands completely.
He hadn’t realized how long it had been since he’d seen her this close.
Only a few hours, maybe. But it felt longer.
She smiled a little, that shy, unsure curve of her lips that never quite reached her eyes.
“Good morning,” she said, her voice quiet but warm.
Marcello leaned back in his chair, watching her like he couldn’t decide whether to look away or let himself stare.
“Morning,” he replied, low.
For a moment, neither of them said anything.
The sunlight from the window cut across her face, catching the fine strands of her hair, making her look almost unreal, too soft for this place, too fragile for the man sitting behind the desk.
“What is it?” he asked finally, his tone steady, almost detached.
He needed it to sound that way calm, composed.
She hesitated looking at his black suit.
.“Nothing, I just… I ...I .. Are going out today.”
He studied her quietly, the faint shift of her weight and the way she avoided his eyes. he said, after a pause. “yes, but not yet.”
Her gaze lifted then, meeting his. There was something uncertain in it, something that made him want to stand up and close the distance between them. But he didn’t move. He couldn’t.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she said softly, her fingers tightening around her sleeve. “I just wanted to say thank you… for the book.” she finished finally sensing the tension around them
His brows drew slightly together. “You finished it already?”
She nodded, that small smile returning.
He hummed a sound that wasn’t quite approval, but close enough, He liked it when she used her words “And?”
“I liked it,” she said, and then her eyes dropped again. ” she wasn't sure what to say next or if she should just leave as she felt like she interrupted something.
Marcello leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on the desk, his voice changing suddenly into a low growl" Mia, baby what did I say about knocking on my door.."
Her cheeks flushed startled . “i I I ...I’m sorry.”
He almost smiled at her startled state.. almost
“And apologizing too.. hmmm” he continued,..
That made her glance up again, then carefully she answered " umm you said not to.. "
Holding her gaze, eyes unreadable. He replied “ then why do you keep doing that huh"
She blinked, unsure of her answer.. " I ... I " she couldn't finish
" Do you like being a brat baby?" He asked and her mouth parted at his words as she shaked her head vigorously
" Words baby."
" No"
" Come here.. " he ordered and her legs obeyed until she was next to him. He picked her up placing her on his thigh " next time, don't knock , do you understand" he continued giving a little spank on her ass then rubbing the little spot
" Yes" she squeaked at the contact.
" Good, now did you have breakfast" he asked and as if on cue, her stomach growled and she hid herself on his shoulder at the embarrassment.
" Let's get you fed baby or I won't be settled knowing you didn't have anything before I left" he finished his face in amusement.