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I shake my head, forcing her from my mind. Focus.

Answers won’t come to me on their own. If I want the truth, I must dig it out myself. And if that means stepping into the lion’s den, so be it.

3

ARIA

“Fuck!Cazzo!”

Marco’s office door is ajar as I approach, but the harsh sound of his cursing makes me pause.

I’m wearing a sundress, holding a basket with homemade chicken pie, a jar of freshly squeezed fruit juice and some slices of toast. This morning, I thought it would be a good idea for us to have breakfast together. I packed up what I was served and brought it here.

I thought it would be a good opportunity for us to bond. But from Marco’s voice, I can tell that this was a mistake.

I glance at his secretary, who has also stopped, her fingers trembling slightly.

“I… don’t think it’s a good idea to go in anymore, Miss Aria,” she murmurs

I look at Marco’s office door, then back at her, and finally, at the basket in my hands. If I came here to bond with my brother, I shouldn’t be running away now.

I know he’s involved in a shady business he doesn’t want me to be involved in, but I’m not as fragile as everyone thinks. I’m not some ‘pretty ornament’ meant only to be displayed or used for information.

I manage to smile and take a deep breath. “I’m sure I can handle it.”

I walk closer to the door, realizing Marco isn’t talking to anyone. It’s just him speaking to himself. “Paolo,” he spits, “That bastard’s asking for a war.”

I step inside quietly. The plush carpet muffles the sound of my heels so he doesn’t hear me approach.

Marco is behind his desk, pacing like a caged animal. His dark suit jacket is draped over the chair, and the sleeves of his black shirt are rolled up to his elbows. His hands clench and unclench at his sides, his chest heaving with barely contained frustration.

Seeing him like this makes me want to turn around and leave. But I take a deep breath. If I want Marco's trust, I have to earn it.

“Marco,” I begin slowly, careful not to provoke him. “What happened?”

Marco whirls around. His dark hair flies, and his eyes narrow on me. He stares for a few seconds, his frown deepening.

“What’re you doing here?”

“I—uhm…” I place the basket down. “I thought we could have breakfast together.”

He scoffs as though this idea is laughable. I don’t let it bother me.

“But we can eat later,” I say, keeping my voice calm as I approach his desk. “What happened?”

“What happened?” he repeats bitterly. “Nicolas Paolo happened.”

The name makes my stomach tighten.The handsome devil.

I don’t know whyhandsomeeven crosses my mind, but it doesn’t matter. “What did he do?”

“He intercepted one of my shipments.” Marco snaps, dragging a hand through his hair. “Some… really important goods.”

I don’t need an explanation to know what ‘important goods’ mean—illegal things. Things he can’t report to the police.

I sink into one of the chairs opposite his desk, taking my time before asking, “Are you sure it was him?”

Marco glares at me like I’ve just insulted him, but he doesn’t lash out. That’s something, at least.