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She won’t be going anywhere.

I don’t trust myself to be alone with her right now, not after what just happened. Not after I had to remind her who was in charge.

I send one of my guys in with food and water for the night, knowing she’ll eat out of sheer necessity. She’ll stay quiet, but I know better than to think she’s forgotten what happened. She won’t forget. But I’ll be damned if I let her believe she’s running anything here.

Back in my office, I pull up the cameras on my phone and watch her from a distance. I watch the dark outline of her sitting on the bed, staring at nothing. She’s pissed. She’s hurt. And I know she’s trying to figure out if she wants to hate me or need me.

Maybe it’s both. Maybe that’s what makes it so fucking complicated.

I don’t blink as I watch her, my eyes glued to the screen.

There’s nothing more I can do right now.

She’s not going to break easily. But I’ll make sure she knows how much worse it can get if she doesn’t start playing by the rules.

Chapter 17

Daniela

The evening air is cool against my skin as I step onto the balcony, the scent of cigars lingering from the night before. It’s one of those nights where everything feels too quiet, like the world’s holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.

I find him leaning against the stone railing, staring out into the darkness. His glass of whiskey catches the light from inside, the amber liquid swirling lazily as he takes a sip.

I don’t speak at first. I just watch him for a second. There’s something about the way he holds himself like he’s made of steel. But under it all, there’s a kind of vulnerability I can’t quite understand. Maybe I never will.

“I need to talk to you,” I say, breaking the silence.

He doesn’t look at me, but his shoulders tense. “Come here then,” he says, his voice low, like he’s not really offering but more so demanding it. He pours me a drink without asking, and I take it from him without hesitation. The glass feels cool in my hand, but it doesn’t settle the unease rolling in my stomach.

We stand there for a moment, neither of us speaking, as if we’re both trying to figure out how to talk about the recent incident.

Finally, he turns to me and mutters, “I owe you an apology.”

I blink, caught off guard. Remo doesn’t apologize. Ever.

He exhales sharply, his jaw tightening as if the words cost him. “I was out of line the other night. I…I hate it when you doubt that I can protect you. I don’t want anything to happen to you, Daniela.”

I hold his stare. “I didn’t ask for your protection.”

He looks at me like I just slapped him, the hurt in his eyes sharp but quickly masked. “I know.”

“I’m sorry for how I acted too,” I admit, my voice softer now. “I just…I thought this might all be too much for you. That maybe leaving would be easier for you.”

His hand clenches into a fist at his side. “It’s not,” he says firmly, his voice edged with desperation. “You leaving would never be better for me. Do you understand that?”

The intensity in his eyes makes me swallow hard, and I nod, unable to argue.

“I’ve been hearing things,” I say, breaking the moment. “I know I shouldn’t pry, but…the attack at the shop, the package. It isn’t random, is it? It’s someone from your past. Someone you know.”

At my words, his eyes narrow, the flicker of trust from before now replaced with suspicion. “Where did you hear that?” His tone is cold.

“It’s not exactly a secret,” I reply with a shrug. “I overheard some guys talking after the shootout.”

He says nothing for a moment. He just watches me like he’s deciding whether or not to trust what I’m saying.

“You shouldn’t concern yourself with any of it,” he finally says, his voice a low growl. “The fucker will be in the ground soon enough.”

I stare down at my drink, swirling the liquid as if it holds the answers. “For all the macho you act,” I mutter, “your men worry about you. And I don’t think it’s just blind loyalty. I’ve seen glimpses of something else. A good heart.”