Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
KAI
People talked about stalking like it is some kind of crime. Like paying close attention to someone, learning their habits, positioning yourself strategically in their orbit was inherently wrong.
Complete bullshit.
Life is a game—a strategic, calculated game where the winners are the ones who paid attention, who noticed patterns, who made deliberate moves.
The people who succeeded weren't the passive observers sitting on the sidelines.
They were the players who actively pursued what they wanted with precision and purpose.
And I wanted Aria Romano.
Not in the sick, possessive way my father wanted her—as property to be owned, as a transaction to be completed. I wanted her in a way that both terrified and compelled me. In a way that made me question every ruthless instinct I'd honed over twenty-six years.
So yeah, over the next week, I made it my mission to be everywhere she was.
It wasn't stalking. It was strategic positioning. Intelligence gathering. Making sure the girl who'd somehow wormed her way under my skin was constantly aware of my presence.
Breakfast with Lia became my new routine. I'd walk into the dining room and watch Aria's entire body tense. Her fork would pause mid-air. Her shoulders would straighten. She'd become hyperaware of every movement, every breath.
"Since when do you eat breakfast with us?" Lia asked on the third morning, her sharp eyes darting between Aria and me. "You usually grab coffee and disappear into your office for twelve hours."
"Maybe I'm turning over a new leaf. Being more social."
"You're being weird is what you're being." Lia bit into her toast, studying me. "This wouldn't have anything to do with Aria, would it?"
Aria's face flushed that perfect shade of pink that I was becoming dangerously addicted to.
"I'm just making sure our guest feels welcomed. Isn't that what you wanted?" I took a slow sip of coffee, my eyes never leaving Aria. "For me to be more... attentive?"
Lia rolled her eyes but I saw the small smile. She knew exactly what I was doing. And she approved, even if it was reckless as hell.
The garden became my second favorite hunting ground. Aria spent hours there with her books, seeking peace in a situation that offered none. I'd manufacture reasons to be nearby—checking the perimeter, taking business calls, reviewing security camera footage on my phone.
Always close enough that she'd feel me there.
She'd tense every single time. Her reading would slow to a crawl. She'd have to reread the same paragraph four or five times because she couldn't concentrate with me hovering.
Perfect. I wanted to consume her thoughts the way she'd consumed mine.
Mrs. Rossi's Italian lessons provided another opportunity. I'd walk past the sitting room where they worked, deliberately slowing my pace. Let my gaze linger on Aria as she stumbled through verb conjugations, her accent adorable when she got flustered.
Which was every single time she noticed me watching.
"Your pronunciation is improving considerably," I'd comment in perfect Italian, leaning against the doorframe like I had all the time in the world.
Aria would flush that gorgeous pink, lose her place completely, and have to start over.
Mrs. Rossi would shoot me looks that clearly said stop tormenting the poor girl, but she never actually told me to leave.
Was I being fair? Absolutely not.
Was I playing a game where I held every advantage? Definitely.
Did I feel even remotely guilty about it? Not even a little bit.
Because here's what people didn't understand—what Aria herself didn't understand yet.
She was marrying into this world whether she wanted to or not.
Either to my father, who would systematically break her until nothing of her spark remained.
Or to me, if I could figure out how to make that happen without getting us all killed.
And if she was going to survive either scenario, she needed to be stronger. Harder. More aware of the predators surrounding her.
Including me. Especially me.
By the end of the week, I could see the effect clearly. She jumped when I spoke. Her hands trembled slightly when I got too close. Her breathing would quicken at the mere sound of my footsteps. It wasn't out of fear, but she had became hyper aware of my present.
I was living rent-free in her head, occupying her thoughts constantly. And fuck if that didn't satisfy something dark and primitive inside me.
That was not all this was about, I wish this could be all games and fun but I had business in the city that couldn't be delegated. Collections that needed my personal attention. Dealers who'd been late on payments and required a very clear reminder about consequences.
I found Aria in the library, curled up in that chair by the window she favored.
"Get changed into something dark that you don't mind getting dirty. We leave in twenty minutes."
She looked up from her book, confusion flickering across her face. "What? Where are we going?"
"I have business in the city. You're coming with me."
"I'd rather stay here—"
"Not optional." I moved closer, watched her press back into the chair instinctively. "I'm responsible for you while my father's gone. Where I go, you go. Twenty minutes, Aria."
"Kai, I don't want to go to whatever—"
"Eighteen minutes now. I'd hurry if I were you."
The fear in her eyes did something to me. Not satisfaction—something infinitely worse. Something that made me want to pull her into my arms and promise she'd be safe. That I'd protect her from everything, including myself.
But I couldn't make that promise. Wouldn't make that promise.
Because real protection meant preparation. And preparation meant understanding exactly what kind of brutal world she was trapped in.
"Why?" Her voice was barely above a whisper. "Why do I need to come?"
I crouched down so we were eye level. Forced myself to hold her gaze even though what I was about to say would terrify her.
"My father has been married twice before.
Both wives are dead. The first supposedly died in a car accident—except there were no skid marks, no evidence of defensive driving, and witnesses who conveniently disappeared.
The second drank herself to death trying to cope with being married to him.
" I let that sink in. "If you want any chance of surviving long enough for me to figure out how to stop this wedding, you need to understand what survival actually means in this world. "
Her face had gone pale. "I don't understand what that has to do with—"
"It means being strong enough to do whatever it takes.
Smart enough to see threats coming. Hard enough to make difficult choices.
" I stood up. "You've lived your whole life sheltered, protected, kept in a pretty bubble.
That ends now. If you're going to make it out of this alive, you need to see reality.
The ugly, brutal, violent reality. Seventeen minutes. "
I walked out before she could argue. Before the softness in her eyes could weaken my resolve.
Because that was the thing nobody else saw. When I looked at Aria Romano, I didn't just see the girl from the club or my father's future wife. I saw someone who deserved better than this life. Someone whose spark hadn't been extinguished yet by years of violence and compromise.
And I'd be damned if I'd let my father be the one to snuff it out.
Seventeen minutes later, she appeared at the front entrance wearing dark jeans and a black shirt. Her hair was pulled back. Her face was set in stubborn, angry lines.
Good. Anger was better than fear.
Marco was already waiting by the car. He raised an eyebrow at Aria but didn't comment.
She climbed into the back seat, as far from me as possible. I slid in next to her, deliberately sitting close enough that she couldn't ignore my presence.
Marco pulled out of the driveway. The city was forty minutes away.
Forty minutes of Aria sitting rigid beside me, her hands clenched in her lap, her breathing carefully controlled.
"Where exactly are we going?" Her voice was tight.
"Warehouse district. Meeting some dealers who owe us money."
"And you need me there because...?"
"Because you need to see what happens when people don't pay what they owe."
She turned to look at me, those brown eyes searching my face. "Why are you doing this? Why are you so determined to—to expose me to all of this?"
"Because innocence is a luxury you can't afford anymore.
" I kept my voice level even though something in my chest was tightening.
"You think my father married those other women because he loved them?
He married them because they were useful.
And the second they stopped being useful—or became inconvenient—they disappeared.
If you want to be different, you need to be strong enough that he can't dispose of you easily. "
"So this violence is supposed to make me strong?
" She asked her voice a bit shaky, how could she not understand that I was doing this to protect her, because heaven forbid I am not around or there for her tomorrow, I want to be sure she won't die like…
like my mom. I wish I could tell her all this but she was already scared. I didn't want to scare her the more.
I pulled her hands to me, she didn't resist, they were warm and fit perfectly into mine.
"Understanding consequences makes you strong. Seeing what happens when people underestimate this world makes you smart. And knowing that I'm one of the more merciful options in your future makes you realistic."
She flinched at that and pulled her hands away from mine, looking away, staring out the window.
I wanted to reach over, take her hand again, tell her it would be okay. But that would be a lie. Nothing about this situation was okay.
"I don't want to watch people get hurt," Her voice was so quiet I almost didn't hear it.