I step back abruptly and slide behind the bar, as if a few feet of polished wood might protect me from the sheer gravity of him.
He smiles at the move. A slow, dangerous smile. “Make me a drink.”
“It’s ten in the morning.”
“I’ve been awake all night,” he replies mildly. “I can handle it.”
I snort. “Doing what? Terrorising bartenders and breaking into libraries?”
“Not breaking in. But yes, sleeping behind one particularly insubstantial library door,” he says calmly.
My hands freeze around the glass. “You—what?”
“You heard me,cara,” he continues as if discussing the weather. “I haven’t waited all this time just to watch you do something foolish that risked your safety. You barricadedyourself in a place you thought was safe. I allowed you to stay there, but I kept watch.”
“And you slept… outside the library?” I repeat.
“Yes.”
The absurdity of it hits me all at once.
“You, Giovanni Dragoni, slept on the concrete floor?”
His mouth curves. “You weren’t exactly offering a spare couch.”
I stare at him.
At the man who commands armies. Who dismantles men with a glance. Who controls shipping routes and cities and bloodlines.
Slept outside a library.
For me.
I shake myself sharply, reaching for the bottle. No. No, I will not romanticise this.
I pour him a drink with unnecessary force.
As I slide it across, I realise something else is wrong. The bar is… empty. There are no tourists drifting in, no locals waving from the deck.
No idle chatter from the street.
Giovanni follows my gaze then quirks a sooty eyebrow at me.
“Where is everyone?” I ask.
He doesn’t answer immediately. So I look again… and then I see them.
His men.
Casual. Discreet. Stationed at every access point like shadows wearing human skin. Gently redirecting anyone who even thinks about stepping inside.
“They’re… driving them away,” I say slowly.
“Yes.”
My pulse spikes. “You can’t do that.”
“I already have.”
