Chapter 25

How the old ways of this world didn't always work for the best. How modifying a few laws could mean greater strength. I wonder how far he would risk breaking them.

Now, I remained silent before one of those changes. Neither one of us broke the silence. While I saw him as a possibility of trust, I caught his indecision and resentment.

Vadim perceived me as a Zanetti, and what it meant. The scars, pain, and wounds left on his lover's skin by my brothers. And yet, he struggled as my presence meant her safety. Their safety. The traded cage and the power I held for balance.

"Don't stop because of me. You seemed in a hurry," I said, disturbing the silence with my words.

His broad shoulders ticked while he pondered.

"Sorry if I startled you, I wasn't expecting you to be here." There was a glimpse of guilt inside him.

I took it as a win.

"No need to apologize," I replied and wagered my next words. Lowering my gaze, I did what I did best: deceit. "I hope Davina is doing well."

His body tensed as I uttered her name, and I watched as his eyes calmed. My tone had been convincing, my body language sincere, and my eyes portrayed care, and Vadim had believed them all.

He wasn't Massimo. He wasn't immune to my illusions, and now I had infiltrated one of his closest men. Slowly he would stop seeing me as a Zanetti, and trust will slither through the gaps. And the longer I remained trapped inside this hoax, the more I would earn my way in.

"She is." Vadim nodded politely and aimed his attention at Massimo's desk. "I must get going," he explained and walked deeper inside.

With determined steps and avoiding eye contact, he stood behind Massimo's desk. Vadim opened the top drawer and fumbled through its contents before retrieving a letter-sized envelope. An echo cut through the thick tension of unease as the drawer closed shut.

The height of his frame had grown by its proximity, and I kept my eyes fixed on him as he approached. After all, I didn't trust anyone. As he stood there without taking the initiative to leave, I grew weary of his next move. Weary of our distance and the negative thoughts that could be running through his head.

With his height and weight, it wouldn't be an easy fight. And yet, I was only one step away from my knives.

But I didn't feel threatened in his presence. No. Because as he stood rooted in a battle with himself, all I felt was his confusion and uncanny mistrust. His body struggled with his movements and actions, uncertain of how to proceed.

He glanced back at me and explained, "Massimo asked for it." The envelope wiggled between his fingers.

I shook my head, playing along with my ruse. "You don't answer to me." It had been true but saying it out loud gave me a vulnerable approach.

"I'm aware, but you're still the woman of this house."

Fuck.

Was that respect?

I almost felt guilty forno I didn't. I remained silent and waited until he left the room. He was part of this world; therefore, a part of the game.

ALESSANDRA

I stared at the sunrise. The promise of a new day, and a fresh beginning. But that promise fell short in my life. A lost cause I learned as a child. Yet, I always sought its peace, and the desire of possibility. I wouldn't say hope; that died the day my mother did. My father made sure no trace was left of it.

The sunrise fought against the dark skies that guaranteed chaos. Soon, thunder will reach, and rain will descend from the sky, obscuring any light. It would allow the shadows to stay while streams of water and filth would run through the streets.

I waited for the sun to lose its fight and left the room before breakfast could be served. The house was quieter than usual, and today, my steps were silent as I had traded my heels for tennis shoes. Thunder cracked and the vases shook as I walked through the house in search of Massimo. His car was parked on the circular drive, but his study and dining room were empty. I had nowhere left to search as the skies rumbled from above. Lights flickered, and I saw his shadow through the back paneled glass doors.

Massimo stood outside and far away from the shelter of the roof's overhang, but the wind had picked up, causing the ends of his styled hair to wave. I watched him for a moment longer behind the safety of the glass before I pulled the door open. His head turned, our eyes met, and his back remained to me.

"This is the last time I ask, Damian. Call it in or do it yourself, but get that streetlamp fixed." He ordered through the phone and ended the call.

His dark mood hadn't changed much since that night I'd seen him before the church, but it wasn't as bleak as the immediate warning I felt after seeing the red stain on the collar of his shirt. Rather than a white shirt, he wore all black today. There was only one difference between that night and now; black hid blood splatters.

My ponytail swayed with the breeze, and the temperature had lowered with the upcoming storm. It was loud even though we stayed quiet.

I picked my rehearsed words in my head, ready to initiate the first conversation we had in days. But Massimo fully turned, his gaze roamed over my body, and I was rendered into silence. Heat surged and warmed every inch his eyes landed on my body. From my high waisted yoga pants that were skintight, the uncovered skin between my middle. To the distinguished appreciation shining over my matching black sports bra.

This man was capable of silencing any room with ease. And now, with just me out in the open, I was another casualty of his gaze.