CHAPTER 40
MARCELLO
I stared at the vaulted ceiling, listening to the sound of my breath bouncing off the walls.
The way she looked at me—like I was a stranger wearing the face of someone she used to trust. It felt like a bullet I deserved.
She saw something. Enough to hurt. Enough to doubt. And I’d done nothing to stop it. Nothing to ease her mind. Nothing to fight for her. Nothing to win her back.
The room was quiet, but my mind wasn’t. I lay there, staring at the ceiling, replaying the look on Roxanne’s face. The disbelief in her voice. The way she froze—like betrayal had a face, and it wore my name.
And that vixen. How dare she touch me? Her hands. Her smirk. The audacity. She knew what she was doing. She didn’t just kiss me—she weaponized it.
I’d never raise a hand to a woman. But her? Her neck deserved to be snapped in two.
My phone buzzed. A conference call with Santino and Martin.
“Ciao, fra! Come butta?” Santino chirped.
Too chirpy for my mood. I let out a sigh.
“Oh. That bad, huh?” he said.
“Spit it out.” My voice was clipped.
“I’ve got intel, Lorenzo was seen in Laos an hour ago,” Martin said.
Laos. That bastard was moving further east.
Running like a rat who knew his time was near.
“I’m heading there. Word is the triads from Shandong province are protecting him. I’ve already contacted Cheung and Ronnie. They’ll be sending in reinforcements for the extraction. Hope it doesn’t come down to a blood bath.”
“I want minimum casualties,” I said.
“Santi, all ok in Palma and London?”
“Yeah! Antonio has already left for London to be with his family.”
He huffed a breath.
“Don’t stall. What else?”
“One of Lorenzo’s men was spotted in Mumbai. No one knows why.”
My jaw tightened. Mumbai. That wasn’t random. Was it a message? My heart stopped—not out of fear for me, but for her. Always her. At least her family was here. Under my watch. Safe.
“I’m flying out,” Santino said. “I’ll be in India by tomorrow.”
“Martino, tienimi aggiornato.” (keep in touch)
He hung up, but Santino was still on call.
“Chi succedi?” Santino asked, voice low.
I rubbed the bridge of my nose.
“Na buttana ci vinni a vasarimi.” (A whore tried to kiss me.)
“Roxanne saw. She thinks I wanted it.”
“Then explain to her. Apologise. Isn’t that what you’ve gone for? To win her back?”
“I don’t know how to fix this.”
“Give her space and time. I’ll be there tomorrow. We’ll figure it out.”
When the call ended, I stared at the screen. Then typed:
Her reply came fast. Cold and precise. A mirror to the silence I once gave her—now turned against me.
Her words hit hard like a slap across my face. I stared at the message, the ache blooming in my chest.
I typed back:
She was learning to wound me the way I once wounded her.
I poured myself a drink. Whiskey. No ice. Just burn. The anxiety crept in—slow, heavy, familiar. Like an old lover I never stopped sleeping beside. I swallowed the pill dry, hoping it would calm my nerves. Tomorrow, I’d find her. Apologise. Even if I wasn’t the one who crossed the line.
I knocked on her door just after sunrise. Her mother answered, smiling politely. She spoke before I could ask:
“Roxanne isn’t here. She took Kyra for a walk. Said she’ll meet me for breakfast.”
I nodded, thanked her, and walked off.
The resort was quiet. Dew still clung to the grass. Birds chirped in the morning light. I wandered past the pool, the garden, the shaded paths lined with frangipani and hibiscus. No sign of her.
I walked down the steps to the beach, hoping to find her there. The sea usually calmed her. I hoped it still did. I reached the beach. No Roxanne. Instead, I found Vihaan walking towards me.
“Have you seen Roxanne?” I asked.
“Didn’t she return to your room last night?”
I shook my head, pressing my fingers into the headache blooming behind my eyes.
His eyes narrowed
“What did you say?”
I clenched my jaw. “Nothing that concerns you.”
He stood, calm but firm. “She’ll always be my concern.”
And I hated how right he was.
I let out a deep sigh. “Priya’s cousin kissed me. Roxanne saw everything.”
Saying it aloud was like ripping open my own throat. He let out a distasteful groan.
“Who? The one who looks like a hooker?”
“Yes.” I scoffed.
At least we agreed on something.
“Listen, if you’re not serious about Roxy, walk away now. And if you’re playing games,” he said, stepping closer, “stay the fuck away from her. I don’t want to see her hurt.”
My fists curled, but I didn’t move.
“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t sure. She got under my skin. Into my heart. I didn’t see it coming. But now that she’s there—
I’ll bleed before I let go.”
And I meant every word.
“Good. Cause if she’s hurt and broken, I won’t shy away from punching you square in the nose.”
I scoffed and smiled. “Where is she?”
“She’s probably in the banquet hall. We’re rehearsing for tonight’s sangeet.”
We started walking back to the resort.
“If you love her, tell her. She deserves to hear it.”
I was stunned. Until yesterday, he was ready to tear me apart. Today, he was her shield. That meant something.
The banquet hall looked anything but bare. The stage was already draped with colour and flowers. Sahil and his groomsmen were there, and only one woman. My woman. Roxanne.
I stood near the entrance, arms crossed, eyes scanning. She was wearing a loose tee and black leggings. Her hair was tied in a high bun.
She laughed, hips swaying to the beat as she demonstrated a step. Her eyes sparkled. She moved like nothing had happened. Like I hadn’t shattered her. Like I was yesterday’s wound she refused to acknowledge.
She looked okay. Too okay. Like she’d built a fortress out of rhythm and smiles. I hadn’t slept. I was still burning from yesterday. But she? Radiant. Composed. Untouchable. It fucking stung.
I didn’t know what I expected. A confrontation? Tears?
Instead, she was dancing.
Had she forgotten or forgiven me? Or was she building walls I would spend years trying to climb? Or was she putting on an act—a performance—a dance choreographed to keep me out?
Kyra ran out from the corner. Vihaan scooped her up. She gave me a high-five.
“Don’t be fooled by her smile. She’s probably bubbling with anger inside.”
Vihaan spoke low, patting my shoulders as he passed by me.
“All the best!” he winked.
I didn’t answer. Couldn’t.
“Mi sa che sono fottuto.” (I think I’m screwed.)
A man came, the same one circling her yesterday and slipped his hands on her waist. She gently brushed it away, giving him a stern look. My body tensed with rage.
I guess Vihaan sensed my discomfort.
“Arjun, you should be careful around Roxanne. She’ll chop your dick off.”
I snickered. I couldn’t imagine Roxanne being so violent.
Sahil clapped his hands.
“Alright guys, focus. I need this to be perfect for Priya.”
“Dude, it’s your wedding. Not a competition.” One of the other guys spoke.
“Plus, you have a dance sequence with Priya as well.
“Ya, but this number is a surprise for her. Let’s do it again.”
Her eyes met mine. Brief. Blank. Like I was a page she’d already turned. Then she turned away, moving to the music like I didn’t exist.
I wasn’t sure what hurt more—her silence, or her ability to carry on like she erased me. Maybe this was my punishment to watch her live without needing me.
I’d come here to win her back. To fight for her. But now, watching her dance without a care, it felt like I’d already lost her.
And I was just a man standing in the doorway, hoping for a second chance.
I turned and walked out. The music followed me—mocking. Like I didn’t belong in her rhythm anymore.
I stepped into the corridor; the laughter faded behind me. And I felt it again—that hollow ache blooming in my chest. The one I drown in with whiskey and war.
She was slipping through my fingers. And for the first time in my life, I didn’t know how to fight back. I didn’t know how to hold her without crushing the very thing I wanted to protect.