Of course it’s him. Can’t call like a civilized human being—no, he has to show up uninvited, like a perpetual toddler who wants attention.
“Keep him there,” I say. “I’ll handle it.”
“Yes, boss.”
The line goes dead. Nestor showing up here means one of two things: he wants something or he’s about to set fire to something I own. Either way, he won’t leave without trying to crawl under my skin.
I push up from the desk. The chair spins once behind me, slow and quiet. I straighten my jacket, slide the phone into my pocket, and head out.
The corridor is empty, but the air feels heavy—like the Castello knows trouble when it smells it. The sound of my steps echoes against the stone, measured, deliberate. I pass the study, the hall, the library. Halfway to the front doors, I see her.
Mara steps into the kitchen from the other side of the corridor. Sunlight filters through the window behind her, turning her hair gold. The sight hits harder than I’m willing to admit.
She freezes when she sees me. “Morning.”
My jaw tics. I can still feel the way her curves fit into my hands.
“Don’t go outside,” I tell her.
Her brows knit. “Why?—”
“Just don’t.” My voice comes out low, final.
She opens her mouth, that little spark of rebellion flickering like it always does, but I’m already moving again.
The front doors groan when I push them open. Heat rushes in first…then the sound. Engines idling. Men murmuring. The distinct click of safeties sliding off. I step outside.
Nestor is leaning against the hood of a matte-black car, hands tucked into his pockets like he’s at a damn picnic. He’s smiling—of course he is. My men have three rifles trained on him, and he looks like he’s posing for a photo.
“Is this how you greet your best friend now?” he drawls, sunglasses sliding down his nose.
I slowly walk closer. “I don’t havebest friends, and I don’t appreciate anyone showing up uninvited. You could be the fucking queen for all I care.”
He chuckles low in his throat, tapping ash off a cigarette that’s been burning between his fingers. “You wound me, Esposito. I thought we had history.”
“We do.” I stop a few feet away, motioning for my men to put their rifles down. The rifles dip in unison. “That’s why they haven’t shot you yet.”
His grin widens. “Still charming.”
“Back to your posts.”
I don’t look at my men. There’s no need. They will obey or they will die. That’s how each and every one of them was trained. I accept no mistakes, no hesitation to my orders. Boots scuff against gravel as they melt back toward the perimeter.
Nestor flicks his cigarette away. “Touching. They still jump when you growl.”
“Get to the point,” I say, patience running thin.
He smirks, spreading his arms like he’s about to perform. “Maybe I missed you.”
“I doubt that, and it’s only been three weeks. Three centuries isn’t enough time for me to even consider missing you.”
“Fine.” His gaze slides past me toward the house. “Maybe I was curious. Rumor travels fast, you know. And they say Folonari’s younger sister is a knockout.”
The muscle in my jaw tightens. “Careful.”
He grins wider, like he’s found the nerve he came to prod. “You always did have interesting taste.”
The sound of footsteps cuts him off. I don’t need to turn to know it’s her. Mara’s voice is a whisper first…then louder.
