My threat was clear, but instead of provoking the reaction I wanted, it seemed to amuse Cesar as he threw his head back and erupted into loud, raucous laughter, the sound echoing through the room. Without another word, he walked right past me, his amusement lingering in the air as he made his way to his office, leaving me standing there, seething with frustration and fury.
“Big mistake, Pisano.”
Spinning around, I saw a young, gaunt man leaning against the wall. With hair disheveled and wearing gray sweats, hestraightened, his eyes void of life, as he slowly approached. “Make no mistake. Your threats are pointless here.”
The man’s eyes burned with something darker than anger—betrayal, maybe, or fear. He didn’t hesitate as he advanced on me, each step deliberate, his presence swallowing all the space between us. I could see now that his hostility wasn’t just bravado. It was personal, carved into him by what, I didn’t know. And what he said next had the hairs on the back of my neck standing straight. “You are nothing more than a means to an end, and if you ever threaten my brother again, I will kill you myself.”
His words sliced through me like a cold draft creeping under the door. I felt the tension coil tighter as my fists clenched so hard my knuckles ached. In that suspended moment, I weighed his threat—and wondered not just if anyone would come looking for me, but whether the secrets I carried had finally caught up to me.
The room felt charged, every breath heavy with threat. My heart hammered so loudly I wondered if he could hear it. I refused to look away, even as the muffled hum of voices from the front of the house drifted through the walls—a grim reminder of how close danger had become.
“My name is—”
He took a step closer, his voice a low snarl, thick with accusation. “Your name is Pisano, which means you are a traitor.”
Slowly shaking my head, I whispered, “Miranda Williams. My name is Miranda Williams.”
Before I could even blink, his hand reached out and grabbed my neck, squeezing tightly as he hurled me up against the nearest wall. Clawing at his hand, gasping for air, he leaned in so close I could smell stale coffee on his breath, his whisper icy against my cheek. “Don’t fucking lie to me, traitor.”
“TOMASSO!”
The young man smirked and, as quickly as he grabbed me, he let go, turning away, his sneakers squeaking against the marble floor. The hallway stretched ahead, dimly lit by a flickering sconce that cast long, restless shadows along the decorated plaster walls. His footsteps echoed, fading with each step, until only a heavy silence and the faint scent of dust and old cologne lingered in his wake. Massimo, Guilio, and Luca approached, their faces tense, as the weight of what had just transpired settled within me.
“Are you alright?” Massimo asked, his voice soft and laced with concern. He hesitated for a moment, as if unsure whether to reach for my arm, before gently placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder. Aurelio darted after the young man, his boots thudding down the hall, but paused halfway to glance back at me, torn between pursuit and staying to help. Luca’s brow furrowed with worry, and Guilio exchanged a silent, uneasy look with him, both men shifting their weight uncertainly as they tried to decide whether to offer comfort or give me space.
Turning toward Massimo, I couldn’t hold them back. I was at my limit as tears streamed hot down my cheeks, blurring the harsh lines of the hallway. “I want my brother. I want Jackson,” I cried, my voice breaking. Massimo squeezed my shoulder, his expression softening with helpless empathy as he pulled me closer, wrapping his arms around me.
Luca and Guilio stepped closer, the tension in their postures giving way to open concern, while Aurelio, conflicted, lingered at the end of the hall, watching over me with troubled eyes.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Massimo
“Guilio said her throat will bruise!” I roared, my voice thick with fear and rage. My fists crashed down on Cesar’s desk, rattling the pens and papers that littered its surface. I could feel my heart pounding against my ribs, hands trembling as helpless fury surged through me. “What the fuck happened? We were only gone two hours!”
My words echoed louder than I had intended.
Cesar met my glare but looked away almost immediately, rubbing his temples as though fighting off a headache. He let out a weary sigh, shoulders slumping with guilt and frustration. “I don’t know,” he replied, his voice subdued. “I was making arrangements with Dominic and Rose when she came downstairs.” He paused, eyes flickering with regret. “After reading me the riot act, I left her in the study. I didn’t see Tomasso.” His fingers drummed nervously on the desktop, betraying his anxiety.
“Fuck!” The word tore from me, raw and anguished, as I raked my hands through my hair. My chest tightened with helplessness, every muscle rigid. “She was supposed to be safe here.” I could barely keep the edge from my voice; the thought of having failed gnawed at me, leaving a bitter taste.
Emanuelle stepped forward, eyes steady but filled with determination. His jaw was set, and as he spoke, his hand instinctively closed into a fist at his side—a silent vow. “She still is, brother,” he said quickly, his tone firm yet reassuring. “I willstay with Tomasso until this matter is settled. He won’t leave my sight. I give you my word.” The conviction in his stance offered a small comfort, even as tension hummed in the air between us.
Cesar’s voice was barely audible, weighed down by regret as he looked directly at me. “I’m sorry, Massimo. I should have kept her close. She almost never leaves your room—I didn’t think anything would happen.” He shook his head, lips pressed in a tight line of self-reproach. “It won’t happen again.” His jaw set with determination as he continued, “From this moment forward, Tomasso will have four guards on him at all times.”
“NO!” The word exploded from Emanuelle and Aurelio in unison, their voices raw with outrage. Emanuelle surged forward, fists clenched at his sides, while Aurelio’s face flushed with anger. “You can’t do that to him, Cesar!” Emanuelle barked, his tone edged with desperation. “It will only make things worse.”
Cesar’s gaze hardened, but there was a tremor beneath his steady tone. “I don’t have a choice, Aurelio. He attacked our guest.” The words sounded heavy, as if he was convincing himself as much as the others.
Aurelio’s glare shot toward me, his voice razor-sharp with protectiveness. “She’s not a guest,” he snapped, every word underlined by loyalty and frustration. “She’s Massimo’s fucking wife and a Pisano. If you want to keep her safe, make him take her somewhere else. This is Tomasso’s home. I won’t allow my baby brother to become a prisoner in his own house.”
Cesar looked to me for a decision, the tension in the room thick and expectant. I could feel all their eyes on me, urging me to speak.
Swallowing hard, I found my voice.
“She’s not my wife. We’re not legally married,” I said, the words clear and unflinching. “I lied to keep her here.” Myconfession hung in the air, shifting the weight of the moment onto everyone’s shoulders.
Silence crashed over the room, heavy and suffocating. I could see Aurelio’s jaw flex as he tried—and failed—to process what I’d just admitted. Emanuelle’s eyes darted between Cesar and me, searching for meaning in the sudden shift. For a moment, none of us breathed, the lie unraveling everything we thought we’d understood. My pulse thundered in my ears, but I refused to look away as Luca chuckled.
