She’s gone. But he stays.
For a long, heavy moment, the silence stretches. I can feel him in the room, the weight of his presence pressing against my skin, even though I can’t see him from my hiding place.
Then…movement. Closer.
My pulse roars in my ears as his footsteps bring him down the aisle where I’m hidden. I flatten myself against the shelf, every nerve on fire. One wrong move, one sound, and I’ll be caught.
He stops. Inches away. The ledger is yanked from the shelf beside me, the leather squeaking softly under his grip. He flips it open once, then shuts it with decisive force.
My lungs ache from holding my breath.
And then he turns. The echo of his footsteps fades, the door shutting behind him, leaving the library in oppressive silence once more.
I sag back against the shelf, the adrenaline flooding me so hard my hands shake. I almost got caught.
My legs are still shaking when I finally force myself to move. I press my palm against the spines of the books to steady myself, the leather cool under my hand, but my skin still burns with the thought that I was so close to being caught.
I shouldn’t have heard any of that. Rosa’s voice. His.
Fifteen years since her death.
The way he cut her off like the very mention of it was a wound he couldn’t bear to have touched.
Andrea.
The name hovers at the edge of my mind, sharp and heavy, begging to be pieced together with the scraps I already know about him.
Nicolo Esposito doesn’t make mistakes. Doesn’t lose control. Doesn’t let anyone close. But Rosa was right. I saw it this morning. Felt it when he leaned over me at breakfast, his voice curling around my throat like a blade.
He can deny it all he wants; I know better. He’s unraveling. And maybe I should feel guilty about it, scared even…but guilt has never been my strong suit. Instead, a slow smile spreads across my lips as I slip back through the doors, closing them softly behind me.
He almost caught me. Almost had me right there in the shadows. And the sickest part? I wanted him to.
This may have started as a game, but it’s inching toward something real with every day that passes.
20
NICOLO
Iavoid her like the plague. She knows this because she’s been trying to barge into my office for the past couple of days. Calling me a coward from behind the door. And when that didn’t work, she’d sit there on the floor like a stray cat, mocking me through the wood. Saying I promised to train her so she can defend herself. Which is true.
But that was before. When I thought I had more self-control than to indulge a brat with a sharp tongue and eyes that look too much like temptation. Now I know better.
The Castello has been quiet since the breach. Too quiet. My men are sweeping the docks, gathering intel…but my mind keeps circling back to her. Always her.
I see her in the halls sometimes. I turn the corner and there she is, arms crossed, waiting for me like it’s a game. And the worst part? My body reacts before my brain does. Every. Fucking. Time.
So, I keep my door locked. I keep my distance. I bury myself in the ledgers, the contracts, the preparations for the Mancinis. Because war is simpler than her. War, I can win. You can predict things, prepare. With her, I never know.
But even in here in my office, I swear I can feel her. That spark of defiance bleeding through the stone walls. The echo of her laughter from the garden. The memory of her voice curling“yes, Daddy”over breakfast like a razor dragged slow across my skin.
And when the memory of Rosa’s voice cuts through.
I’ve seen the way you look at that girl.
It only sharpens the ache gnawing at me. She doesn’t know. She can’t know. And if she ever finds out, she’ll use it against me the way she uses every crack, every weakness.
That’s what she does. She’s reckless. A liability. And liabilities get people killed. That’s the truth. The only truth.
