I lean back in my chair, my shoulders heavy with disappointment. “I thought you trusted me.”
“I do trust you—it’s not about that, and you know it. It’s about following direct orders not to involve you in any of this. If he hadn’t asked that of me, of course I would’ve told you.Please,” he says softly, like it hurts him, “don’t ask me to betray him like this.”
I shake my head in disbelief. A lump forms in my throat, and I wish there was something I could say to convince him. On the one hand, I understand Cesare. He was an orphan my father plucked out of the system. He practically raised him, saved him from a life of abuse, and Cesare feels like he owes him everything.
On the other hand, I can’t help but feel a tang of resentment. For once, I just wish someone made me their priority.
As I sit here, pondering my feelings, Bruno, his driver, enters the dining room. Cesare leaves his napkin on the table, pushing his chair back with a faint groan.
“Sadly, I have to cut our dinner short tonight. Again, I’m…sorry,” Cesare tells me, wincing at the word he’s already used twice since he arrived. “I mean it. This sucks—Isuck. I promise I’ll make it up to you.Bene?”
I shrug, watching him. “You seem to be sorry about a lot of things lately.”
I don’t miss the subtle flinch of his eyes, as if my words wound him. This whole thing wounds me too, but I refuse to feel anything other than anger right now. Maybe this way, he’ll come to his senses. I’ve been losing too much sleep and sanity over my stalker to pretend like he isn’t hurting me more by keeping me in the dark.
“I’ll be back in a few hours,” Cesare tells me. “There was a problem with a shipment, and I’m needed at the docks. Text me if you need anything, alright? Enzo!” he calls out, and a guard comes running after a few moments. “I’m leaving you in charge while I’m gone.”
“Yes, sir,” Enzo says, then looks at me and nods.
Cesare mutters something else to him, quietly, as if he doesn’t want me to hear. I make up the words ‘her’ and‘basement’, and I grimace, my mind constructing the rest of the sentence for me. He’s ordering him not to let me out of his sight so I don’t seek out the new prisoner.
My eyebrows shoot up. I hadn’t even considered doing that, though I’m surprised Cesare thought I’d be willing to attempt sneaking out. Not because I wouldn’t want to, but because there would be consequences if I were caught.
One of the few times I stood my ground against my father, he slapped me, locked up my study, and kept me in my room with no food for two days. It wasn’t the hunger that made me weep, but that he had no problem being away from me for that long, especially since we had just lost my mother.
Within minutes, Bruno and Cesare are gone, and I remain alone at the table with more questions than answers. The steak has gone cold, and I’ve completely lost my appetite.
It’s in that moment my gaze unintentionally wanders to my right, where the hallway is. I know where that leads—to the basement and the tunnels sprawling from it.
My pulse quickens as the unknown calls out to me. The house seems to thrum with its own heartbeat, much like a sentient giant wanting to trust me with its darkest secret: the identity of the man it holds there.
Between the narrow walls of that corridor, specks of dust float in the dying sunlight, marking the path to the forbidden door with eerie calmness. It’s like a meadow adorned with flowers, a deer’s paradise before the wolf comes out of the shadows and snatches her.
I can’t go down there. Of course, I can’t.
Cesare would feel furious—betrayed. And my father… God, if he found out…
And yet, I still find myself standing, taking a few unsure steps in that direction.
“Everything alright?” Enzo asks, reminding me he’s here.
I turn to him, taking him in—his bulky form and the gun tucked into the waist of his jeans. He’s a young guard, closer in age to me than any other. Not to say that he’s gullible, because he’s not, but if there’s something in it for him, he’ll usually bend the rules a little when asked. Cesare should’ve picked someone else for the job.
“Sure, yeah,” I say, sucking in a breath.
“You don’t look fine.” He frowns, taking a step forward. “My girl goes pale like you when she hears gunshots.”
“Y-Your girl, as in Isabella, the one you met two months ago?”
He nods, his mouth twisting with a proud smile. “Sì,that’s her.”
I shouldn’t know that about him—the guards aren’t supposed to talk to me about their lives, but Enzo never shuts up during my therapy or piano practice drives, filling my ears with things about his love life, soccer, and his protein shakes. Thank God.
“I’m fine, Enzo. Really. But since you mentioned her, are you still meeting Isabella on Thursday morning?”
“Nah. I’m supposed to take you to your piano practice. Tried to get Bruno to take you, but he’ll be with Cesare.”
God. Am I really doing this?
