Page 42 of Read This Before the Villain falls in Love with You

The jab hits cleanly between my ribs. I drag a palm across the rough stubble on my jaw, glaring at the crack of yellow light that refuses to go dark.

Cold venom coats my voice as I meet his eyes. "What should I explain to her, Enzo? That I regret what she saw? I do not regret pulling that trigger. I do not regret killing his entire family. I enjoyed putting a traitor in the dirt. I liked watching the light leave his eyes, and I will not pretend to be a civilized man just to make her feel safe."

Enzo taps the heel of his loafer against the skirting board. "Then tell her that exact sentence. Then tell her why did we became like this. She is not a mind reader brother, she lived a life completely different from us. You can't expect her to decode a monster without knowing his sufferings.She respects brutal a lot more than she respects cowardice."

"I will keep your insightful psychological profile in mind when I write your next performance review."

"I expect a substantial bonus." He shifts his weight, the teasing evaporating from his eyes until only the old, familiar protectiveness remains. "You've had this habit for ten years. Whenever something matters enough to hurt, you plant your feet outside the room and convince yourself you aren't permitted inside. You stood outside Sofia's bedroom for six months after the funeral. You paced outside your own office every night for a year. Now you're doing the exact same drill in front of Nora."

"This is entirely different."

"Keep telling yourself that, boss."

I have no response for that, mostly because he has dismantled a decade of defensive armor in less than sixty seconds while standing in his sweatpants.

"Go to sleep, Enzo." I rub the bridge of my nose, exhausted by his accuracy.

He pushes away from the plaster with an exaggerated sigh, rotating his shoulders until his spine gives a satisfying crack. "I'm going. But remember, standing in a hallway until four in the morning is not a romantic tactic. It is a cry for help."

"Your input has been recorded and discarded."

He retreats backward down the hall, flashing that infuriating smirk. "If you insist on continuing this vigil tomorrow, bring an armchair. At least look comfortable while you fail to make a decision."

"Get out of my sight, Enzo."

"Rest well, Romeo."

He disappears around the corner, and the hallway goes quiet again, quiet enough that I can hear my own pulse, quiet enough that the strip of light under her door feels like the only honest thing left in the house.

I stand there a moment longer, hand hovering near the wood, close enough to feel the faint chill radiating off it from the air conditioning. She keeps running too cold.

"I don't know how to be near you without wanting to fix everything I've broken." The confession slips into the empty corridor, faint and rough, meant for no ears, least of all the solid wood between us.

Then I turn and walk back to my own room, leaving the light burning behind me.

I don't bother turning on the lamp when I close my bedroom door. I toss my watch onto the nightstand, strip off my shirt, and stand by the dark glass overlooking the gardens. The estate is dead silent at three in the morning, the stone paths bathed in silver moonlight.

A soft click breaks the silence.

The brass latch turns slowly, and the heavy wood swings open. Nora slips through the door, closing it quietly behind her with both hands resting against the panel.

She wears an oversized gray cashmere sweater and dark leggings, her feet bare against the cold parquet floor. Her hair is pinned up loosely, strands falling around her neck. Her dark eyes fix on mine across the dim room, steady but shadowed by exhaustion.

"You were outside my room," she murmurs, her voice rough and quiet in the dark.

"I was," I answer without moving from the window.

She lets out a sharp breath and steps into the room, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. "Enzo is loud. Even through six inches of Italian oak, I could hear him mocking your posture."

"He has a big mouth."

She stops three paces away from me and lifts her chin. "He told you to knock. Why didn't you?"

A sudden tight ache hits my ribs, but my voice stays level. "Because you haven't looked at me in seven days without remembering the warehouse."

Nora looks down at her bare feet for a second, her hands gripping the sleeves of her sweater. "I saw you shoot an entire family in the head without blinking, Luca. I run a firm in London. I handle PR disasters, corporate fraud, and messy divorces. I don't deal with family massacres."

"I know."