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A flicker in his eyes. Humor? His gaze drops to my lips before snapping back up. “Walk with me tonight.” It’s not a question, but it’s not quite an order either.
I should refuse. Spit back my rejection in his face. But I know I need out of this basement, even for just an hour, and maybe fresh air would aid my mind in conjuring up a better way out of this. “Fine.”
His jaw tightens, and he departs without another word.
Sophia
That evening, he comes for me. No knock. He just opens the door and fills the frame. Dark shirt. Rolled sleeves. “Come.” I follow him through winding corridors and up stone steps. When he pushes open the final door, cool night air greets me.
The absurdly expansive gardens sprawl before us.
Marble statues line the paths, and roses climb silver trellises. The seductive aroma of jasmine perfumes the air.
If fairy tales had underworld kingdoms, this would be their backyard.
Enzo walks beside me. Not touching, but close enough that every time his shoulder brushes mine, I forget how to breathe.
I match his stride, my chin held high. If I’m going to be a prisoner, I’ll be the kind who struts.
“Why this life?” I ask. “You could’ve been anything. Lawyer. Architect. Calvin Klein model. And here you are, mafia royalty.”
He glances at me, and for a split second, his eyes flash with pain. “Wasn’t a choice.”
“Right. Just fate holding a gun to your head?”
“In this world, that’s not poetic. It’s literal.”
I snort. “And here I thought you liked your job. You do it with such finesse.”
He stops.
Pivots.
“Why do you teach kindergarten?”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“Because I’m not paid to terrify children.”
He inches closer. “Aren’t you? Authority. Discipline. Influence. You train them not to fear the world by teaching them how to survive it.”
My mouth opens. Closes. “Well, damn. That got dark fast.”
His hand brushes my lower back—too gentle, too lingering—as he guides me down a narrow stone path. This man—this violent, brooding, impossible man—isn’t reacting to my fear.
He’s reacting to my defiance.
My fire.
That’s what he wants.
An idea suddenly burns bright.
If he wants a fight, maybe I can use that.
We navigate around an archway, and I spy the woman who strides over confidently, like she’s a character in a perfume commercial come to life.
