Page 33 of Read This Before the Villain falls in Love with You

I held his stare without blinking. "I deal with things on my own time. Not while people are watching."

"When's later?"

"Currently booked," I shot back. "Try back never."

A low, rough sound caught in his throat before he choked it back. He lifted one hand, his knuckles brushing my cheek as he tucked a loose strand of dark hair behind my ear. His thumb lingered, trailing the curve of my jawline down toward the hollow of my throat before sliding away. I stood entirely still, refusing to flinch, refusing to step back, holding his gaze as heat flared along my skin.

"You keep surprising me, little bird," he murmured, his voice dropping into a register that made the quiet room seem infinitely smaller.

"Good," I whispered, my voice rougher than I wanted. "Keep you on your toes. Wouldn't want you getting comfortable while I plan my escape."

"Comfortable," he echoed, his thumb brushing the sensitive skin of my jaw, "is not a word I'd use for a single fucking thing about this week."

I swallowed down the dry friction in my throat before I could betray how fast my pulse had climbed. "Same."

His hand dropped to his side with agonizing slowness. "Then we understand each other perfectly."

His dark eyes stayed fixed on mine, unblinking, while the silence between us stretched taut. Then he stepped back, smooth and controlled, buttoning his suit jacket with two quick flicks of his fingers. The casual mask settled back over his features, sharp and unreadable once more.

He turned on his heel without another word, his leather oxfords clicking across the polished floorboards. The heavy door shut behind him, the latch clicking into place, and then there was only the quiet scrape of his footsteps fading down the hall.

Chapter 12

LUCA

I have been at my desk since seven, working through three pots of black espresso while the sun climbed over the estate grounds. Adrian walked through the double doors at nine on the dot, carrying two thick leather briefcases and an armful of legal files like a man heading into a courtroom battle. By ten, my study looks less like an office and more like a tactical operations center. Three laptops hum on the mahogany desk alongside a stack of sworn statements thick enough to stop a bullet. Adrian stands across from me with his hands clasped behind his back, stiff enough to salute, which is never entirely out of the question with him.

Adrian squares a pile of court papers, his tone dry as dust. "The judge is Marchetti. Same guy from the docks issue two years ago. He owes us."

I tap my pencil against the wood. "Does he owe us enough to keep his mouth shut?"

Adrian gives a brief nod. "Plenty. I spoke to his clerk this morning. Very quiet. Nothing on paper."

I cross my arms and lean back in my chair. "What does quiet mean with you?"

"Cash for the courthouse building fund." Adrian turns a sheet over neatly, face completely blank. "No names. Good timing."

"So a bribe with a fucking ribbon on it."

Adrian fixes his cuff without blinking. "I call it community support. The courthouse front stairs needed cleaning anyway."

"You bribed a magistrate with floor maintenance." I stare at him until he looks up. "Tell me you at least got a receipt."

"I got two receipts, a thank you note from his wife, and a clean drop of the gun charges before lunch." Adrian drops a signed slip into the folder.

I flip through the folder on the trespasser's identity, the one my legal team scrubbed clean before it ever touched a police database. Bellini soldier. No name that means anything on paper anymore. Just a story, tight and boring, exactly the way Nora built it two days ago in a borrowed sleep shirt with her knees pulled up to her chest, giving my little brother a masterclass in narrative control like it cost her nothing.

I slide the top page across the desk. "Enzo's story. Did he stick to what she wrote him?"

Adrian stands stiff as a board. "Every word. He practiced it eleven times. I kept count."

"Of course you did." I roll my eyes.

Adrian counters without cracking a smile. "Someone needs to watch him. He makes things up when he gets scared. Last time, he told border patrol we were moving old tables. We had neither tables nor anything old in that truck."

I sigh and rub the bridge of my nose. "I remember. I paid for that mistake for a year."

"You lost cash." Adrian glances down at his wrist. "I got headaches."