Chapter Twenty-Two
Raya
BACK IN THE PEACE and quiet of my room at the villa, I make a few private calls, then hit the shower before crawling into bed.
Nestled under the covers, I unlock my phone and open the surveillance feed from the hidden cameras I planted around the room. Micro cams that I’d smuggled in under the sole of my boots.
First, I check the footage from the last couple of hours.
No one’s been in or out since I left. Good.
Biting my lip, I navigate to the folder labeled for the last three nights. I tap the first video…and can’t help the slow, giddy smile that spreads across my face.
Three nights ago, at exactly 3:44 AM, the camera hidden in the light fixture captures Stefano Castello slipping in through the balcony doors. He moves quietly to the edge of the bed and just stands there, looking down at me asleep under the covers.
Five minutes and eighteen seconds tick by before he finally moves.
He walks around to the other side of the bed, shrugs off his jacket, and gingerly lowers himself beside me, his back against the headboard.
Motionless, he watches me for another fifteen minutes, before he pulls out his phone and scrolls in silence.
Only when the blue of dawn begins to filter through the curtains does he finally straighten from the bed, picks up his jacket, and leaves the way he came.
The second video shows him doing the same the following night. Except this time, he brings a book and reads beside me until dawn breaks.
Then there’s last night’s clip.
This time, he lies down. Right there beside me, all relaxed, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Scribbling in a small notebook, completely at ease.
If he’d told me this himself, that he’s been hanging out next to me three nights in a row while I slept, I would’ve called bullshit. I’m not a light sleeper. Never have been. So either I’m getting way too comfortable at this villa, or my psyche just doesn’t register him as a threat.
I’ve been too distracted the past few days to check my cameras.
Imagine my surprise when I finally did earlier this evening.
And even then, I tried not to romanticize it.
Tried not to let myself believe he was there for anything more than cold surveillance.
A predator casing his prey. He’s a calculating cynic. Why wouldn’t he be keeping tabs?
Until two hours ago….
When he asked to kiss me.
Now my thoughts won’t stay in their lane.
Free to run wild. To believe there might be more to his secret visits.
To delude myself that I might be breaking through to the paranoid king.
That maybe I’ve done the impossible. Gotten under his skin.
Enough for him to want to kiss me. Enough for him to go to great lengths to dodge the villa’s cameras and scale up to my balcony just to sneak inside my room at night.
Pity he doesn’t know I have my own surveillance.
All that effort, for what? Just to sit next to me?
My stomach flutters, and I bite my lip to keep from squealing like a prepubescent teenybopper.
Nothing could ever come of it. I know that. But a girl’s allowed to daydream, isn’t she?
My phone vibrates.
Speak of the devil...
Stefano: Taking you up on that offer for the beta blockers.
Me: OK. I’ll call my dad in the morning.
Stefano: *thumbs up emoji*
Me: Are the migraines getting worse, or just the usual?
Stefano: Don’t know. Just tired of feeling like ripping my own head off my shoulders.
Me: I’m sorry. Tonight’s events probably didn’t help much, huh?
Stefano: That was mild. Deals go bust and things go bang all the time.
Me: You know you could’ve just ordered me to attend the dinner with you, right? You didn’t have to pretend to not understand Korean.
Stefano: Can I order you to let me kiss you?
Me: Nope. That would be an abuse of power.
Stefano: What’s the point of having power if I can’t use it to do whatever the fuck I want?
Me: Power without control is destruction. Power without respect is a downward spiral to failure. Power that feeds on itself inevitably implodes.
Stefano: I’m not good. I’m not moral. I’m not a fucking gentleman. I kill. I use. I abuse. Next time your lips are in front of me and I want to kiss them, I won’t ask. Report it to HR.
Me: That’s hardly fair when “HR” is your twin.
Stefano: He won’t take my side, trust me.
Stefano: Go to sleep. Good night.
A smile tugs at my lips as I roll over and do exactly that. I’ve never been more excited to fall asleep. Eager to check my footage in the morning…
~
SOMETHING NUDGES ME from the depths of sleep. I stir, hovering in that sweet rift between oblivion and awareness.
Little by little, the scent of whiskey, spice, and cologne lures me out...
Stefano.
He’s here.
The realization yanks me fully awake, but I remain still. Eyes closed, breathing steady. Because I’m not supposed to be awake when he’s here. I’m not supposed to know. Right?
My back’s to him, so it’s easy to feign ignorance from this position and slip back into oblivion.
A few minutes later, however, as I’m on the edge of falling back asleep, there’s a subtle nudge against my thigh.
It feels Intentional. Did he do that on purpose? Does he want me to catch him in here?
The soft flick of a page turning breaks the silence. Ah, he’s reading. He’s probably just absorbed in his book and forgot where he is.
I try to relax, coax myself back to sleep.
But a moment later, he clears his throat.
A minute after that, the headboard gives a faint rattle.
Yup, that’s intentional. He’s been here three nights in a row without a single misstep. Not a sound, not a breath too loud. If he’s making noise now, it’s because he wants to wake me.
Why, though? What changed? There’s just no understanding this man.
But okay. I’ll play.
With a groggy moan, I shift and roll onto my back. Stretch a little. Letting my eyes flutter open, I scratch my neck and emit another low moan. Lazy and unfocused, like I’m still halfway in a dream.
He’s seated against the headboard, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles.
Feigning surprise, I crane my neck to look up at him, and find his impassive gaze already locked on me. “Wha—what are you doing here?”
“What does it look like?” He flicks his eyes back to the page. “I’m reading.”
“Okay, but...why are you in here?”
“Because I want to be,” he says simply. “Problem?”
“Nope, not at all. It’s your house.” I stretch my arms above my head. “You can do whatever you want.”
His subtle glance at my chest doesn’t go unnoticed.
My girls are unrestrained beneath my white camisole, nipples imprinted through the thin fabric. Gio would be drooling over this view. But with Stefano, it’s never that simple.
Reading people has always been second nature for me. I’m able to tell exactly what someone wants from me on first meet. But when it comes to Stefano...I have no fucking clue.
Sure, there have been moments when his gaze lingered a little too long on my legs, my lips, the curve of my neck… But he’s never given me the look. Like he desperately desired me. Like he wanted to split me open and fuck me ten ways from Sunday.
I’m not his type. That much is obvious. And sure, he asked to kiss me earlier. But it didn’t feel...real. Spur-of-the-moment? Maybe. Possessive? Possibly. Desirous? I’m not convinced.
His sudden interest in me has nothing to do with lust…I think. It feels more like curiosity. Like I’m a puzzle he hasn’t cracked yet.
An attraction not to me, but to the unknown.
Or maybe I’m reading it all wrong. Because that’s what he does to me. Muddles me, throws me off balance, turns my own instincts inside out.
And this…this isn’t me.
With anyone else, I’d know exactly where I stand. With Stefano, I’m just guessing and second-guessing. Worse, hoping.
“The last time I saw you, you were marching off to be anywhere I wasn’t,” I say. “So you’ll have to forgive my confusion, waking up to find you right next to me.”
He doesn’t miss a beat. “Do you feel, right now, the same way you felt five hours ago?”
“No.”
“Neither do I.”
“Fair point.”
He sets his book down on the nightstand. “What’s a trembler?”
Oh. That’s...not where I thought this was going.
“It’s a spring-loaded switch triggered by vibration, depending on how it’s set up. Think of it like, say, a land mine. Except with a land mine, there’s a chance to survive the initial trigger. A trembler switch is instant detonation. One slight vibration to that coil and it’s game over.”
“How do you know when a car’s rigged with one?” he asks.
“Experience.” I scratch my neck. “If you have experience with explosives, anti-handling devices, or just spent enough time in situations you don’t trust and know what to look for...certain things start to jump out at you.”
“Experience,” he mutters. “You’re twenty-three.”
“And yet I’ve seen things you probably never will,” I say with a yawn. “My father is...probably one of the most dangerous men alive.”
He studies me for a moment. “Is that why you’re not afraid of me?”
“Here, now, it’s just us. Locked in a room.
If you decide to kill me right this second, what can he do from a million miles away?
” I pause for a beat. “It doesn’t matter who I’m related to or associated with.
Anyone can hurt anyone, anywhere, at any time.
And no amount of repercussions or bloody aftermath can bring a life back. ”
“If you’re smart enough to know that,” he presses, “why the hell are you so reckless with me?”
“Because I have this cute little thing called instincts that kick in when there’s real danger.” I smile up at him. “And when you’re actually ready to kill me, I’ll know. Then I’ll fear you.”
His eyes flash.
Oh, he does not like that. Not one bit.
In the next breath, he’s on me. Strong thighs straddling my hips, his fingers locked around my throat.
“What about now, huh?” he snarls. “Fear for your fucking life yet?”