Eyes wide. Breathing shallow.
Frozen.
I stepped fully into view.
My voice cut through the corridor.
“What’s going on here?”
The two men who had her cornered turned at once.
The taller one first.
Buzz-cut.
A scar split across one eyebrow, giving his face a permanently irritated look.
His eyes flicked over me—quick, assessing—then shifted past me down the corridor.
Checking for witnesses.
Finding none.
A slow smirk formed on his lips.
“Look who it is,” he said, his voice low, edged with amusement. “Elena Orsini. The woman who stole Violet’s groom on her wedding day.”
The shorter one let out a dry laugh, folding his arms. “You’ve made quite a name for yourself. The Spanish have a bounty on your head—I’m surprised no one’s claimed it yet.”
His gaze slid over me, slow, assessing.
Then he smiled—thin, mocking.
“So what are you doing here?” The shorter one continued. “Looking for allies? That’s unfortunate... because no one here is stupid enough to stand beside you.”
A pause.
“And don’t get any ideas about us,” he added lightly. “We don’t make friends with liabilities.”
I kept my expression neutral.
“You’re the last people I’d ever consider befriending,” I said, my voice unshaken. “And you should learn to speak to Vincenzo Orsini’s wife with respect.”
A beat.
Then the shorter one laughed.
“Respect?” he echoed, amused. “From what we hear, Vincenzo doesn’t even acknowledge you.”
That hit.
Hard.
But I didn’t let it show.
“We’ve heard things,” he went on, tone thick with mockery. “A few days after the wedding, Violet Alvarez shows up at his mansion. Cozy little dinner, just the two of them... and you?” He let out a sharp laugh. “You were the one serving them.”
He shook his head, still grinning.
