Think, Zoe. Think.
In a split-second decision, I step back, take a deep breath, and throw open the door with all the force my anger can muster. The heavy oak slams against the wall with a thunderous bang.
"Damiano!" I snap, striding into the room.
The reaction is immediate and terrifying. Three guns appear, pointed directly at me—Damiano's from the desk, Alessio's from beneath his jacket, and Enzo's from a holster at his ankle. Their movements are fluid, practiced, lethal.
My heart lodges in my throat, but I force myself to ignore the weapons, channeling genuine fear into manufactured fury.
"Your goons are suffocating me!" I continue, myvoice impressively steady despite staring down three gun barrels. I plant my hands on my hips, refusing to back down even as adrenaline courses through my veins.
Damiano's eyes flash dangerously, his finger still on the trigger. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"
"Put those away," I say, gesturing at their weapons with a dismissive wave that I hope masks my trembling. "If you wanted to kill me, you've had plenty of chances."
Alessio's eyes narrow, his gun still trained on me, but Damiano slowly lowers his gun. After a moment's hesitation, Enzo follows suit, though Alessio keeps his weapon out longer, his gaze calculating and cold.
"You don't burst into a room full of made men, principessa," Alessio says, his voice quiet but sharp as a blade. "Not if you want to keep breathing."
Damiano's gaze shifts to Enzo and Alessio. His expression doesn't change, but something in his eyes hardens.
"Leave us," he says, his voice deceptively calm.
Enzo gives me one last suspicious glance before nudging Alessio toward the door. "Come on."
I watch as they exit, the door clicking shut behind them with finality. The sudden silence in the room feels weighted, dangerous.
Damiano's face transforms the moment we're alone, all pretense of control vanishing as rage darkens his features. He stalks toward me like a predator cornering its prey.
"Never enter this office without permission, Zoe. Is that clear?" His voice drops to a menacing growl, so low I feel it more than hear it.
I lift my chin defiantly, refusing to be intimidated even as my instincts scream at me to retreat. "I'm not your pet, Damiano. You can't keep me on a leash."
A dangerous smirk plays on his lips as he steps closer, invading my personal space until I can feel the heat radiating from his body.
"No?" The word falls from his lips like a threat. "A rope could fit perfectly around that little throat of yours,lupacchiotta. Don't tempt me."
I blink, my heart pounding wildly in my chest. Did he just threaten to strangle me? The casual way he mentioned putting a rope around my neck sends ice through my veins, but I refuse to show fear. Showing weakness to Damiano Feretti would be a fatal mistake.
Instead, I force myself to smile, leaning slightly closer to him.
"Is that what you think about at night, Damiano?" I ask, my voice dropping to a whisper. "Tying me up?"
The shift in his expression is subtle but unmistakable—a flicker of surprise, then something darker crossing his features. His eyes drop to my lips for the briefest moment before snapping back up.
"Don't play games you can't win," he warns, his voice rougher than before.
I reach up and adjust his tie, letting my fingers linger against the expensive silk. I can feel his steady heartbeat beneath my hand, while mine races like a frightened rabbit's.
"Who says I'm playing?" I counter, tilting my head. "And who says I can't win?"
The tension between us crackles like electricity. For a dangerous moment, we're locked in place—his dark eyes searching mine, trying to strip away my facade.
"You have no idea what game you're playing," Damiano says, voice dropping an octave lower. His breath fans warm against my face, smelling faintly of coffee and mint. "Or what the consequences might be."
I force myself not to step back despite every instinct telling me to retreat. My fingers are still on his tie, and I give it a slight tug before releasing it.
"Maybe I'm making up my own rules," I reply, summoning confidence I don't feel. "After all, isn't that what powerful people do?"
