Page 7

Cassian follows me, trailing behind like a shadow. His presence is irritating, but I don’t have the patience to tell him to leave.

I clutch the ring in my hand, the cold metal digging into my palm as I walk, my knuckles turning white. The ring she threw away. The action still lingers in my mind. It shouldn’t matter, but it does. Every time I think of it, I feel a sickening twist in my gut.

“Come on, locking her up is too much,” Cassian says, his voice light, almost mocking.

I don’t answer right away. I push the door to my office open with a hard shove, the wood creaking against the force. Stepping inside, I feel the weight of the room close in. It’s supposed to feel safe here, but it doesn’t. Not with everything hanging over me. Not with her.

“You want to be locked up, too?” I snap as I turn to face him.

Cassian steps inside, his expression relaxed. He’s never serious when I need him to be. He glances at me, unbothered.

“No, no, I don’t,” he replies. “I just think you need to handle this a bit more…level-headed.”

I roll my eyes, feeling irritated beyond reason. “She spat on me!” I practically hiss, my teeth grinding together.

Cassian bites back a chuckle but turns serious, the edges of his lips curling into a wry smile. “Oh, yeah, that’s bad.”

I feel my jaw tighten at the sound of his voice. The lightness in his tone only makes me angrier.

Without thinking, I reach for a cigar, the familiar smoothness of the tube a small comfort in the chaos of my mind. But before I can light it, Cassian snatches it out of my hand, his eyes glinting with amusement.

“You’ll turn your lungs into popcorn at this rate,” he says, his voice mockingly concerned.

“Fuck!” I mutter, the word escaping me like it’s the only thing that can cut through the frustration inside.

I try to grab it back, but Cassian holds the cigar out of reach, shaking his head with a knowing grin. His face says it all. He’s enjoying this.

“Why are you this mad?” he asks, his tone casual, like we’re discussing the weather instead of the fact that I’m on the verge of losing control.

“What?” I growl, barely holding myself together. The tension in my chest is unbearable.

He shrugs, as if I’ve asked a silly question. “You can’t blame her. We know she isn’t herself.” He lights his own cigar, the smoke curling around his fingers. “But why are you really angry?”

I take a sharp breath, my eyes narrowing. “What do you mean by that?” My voice is low, dangerous.

Cassian leans back in the chair, his gaze thoughtful, studying me. “I think you’re mad that the Fioretta who pined for you is gone.” He pauses, taking a long drag from his cigar before looking at me again. “The Fioretta we have now doesn’t even see you. She called me handsome.”

“So what?” I mutter, though I can already feel the familiar anger bubbling in my chest.

Cassian leans forward slightly, his grin widening. “The Fioretta you want only had eyes for you. And you’re mad that’s gone.”

I clench my fist, the muscles in my arm tightening with an almost violent force. But instead of answering, I reach for the lamp on my desk. Without a second thought, I hurl it toward Cassian, the ceramic base sailing through the air, heading straight for his head.

Cassian ducks, laughing, as the lamp crashes into the wall behind him, the pieces scattering in all directions.

“You’re insane!” I shout, but my voice is thick with frustration and rage.

Cassian straightens, still grinning, and I can see that he’s not intimidated in the slightest. His eyes are dancing with amusement. “Is that the best you’ve got?” he teases, completely unbothered by the near miss.

“I don’t have time for this,” I mutter, pinching the bridge of my nose. My head is starting to pound. I can feel the weight of the day crashing into me, and I just want to get this over with.

Talk to me seriously, I think.

But Cassian won’t stop pushing my buttons.

“Update me on the ports,” I order, my voice coming out strained, desperate for a change of topic. “And get the hell out of my office before I kill you.”

Cassian stands, his cigar still hanging loosely from his mouth, and gives me a lazy salute. “Sure thing, Boss.”

I try to ignore the twinkle in his eyes.

“The shipment from the port won’t pass through until the routes get the go-ahead from Fioretta herself,” he says, his voice low but confident. “We’re in a standoff, and they’re not gonna move until she gives the green light.”

Cassian’s expression is grim. “D’Angelis had it locked down, and it’s Fioretta’s to command. No one moves without her say-so. They’ve always listened to her. She’s the boss when it comes to the docks.”

I close my eyes for a brief second, frustration bubbling up from the pit of my stomach.

“Halt everything,” I say through gritted teeth, the words coming out sharp, cutting through the air. “Stop the shipments until I can figure out how to get Fioretta to hand me control of the port.”

Cassian’s lips curl into a smirk. “They won’t accept anyone but Fioretta. She’s the one who runs the show down there. We can’t force them to listen to anyone else. Hell, we don’t even know if she’ll listen to you.”

I groan, my fingers tightening into fists at my sides. “I’ll figure it out,” I snap.

My mind races through every possible plan, every angle to get her to trust me enough to relinquish control. There has to be a way. There always is.

Cassian stands up, stretching out his limbs with a grunt, clearly unbothered by my tension. “Fioretta loved you unrequited for so long,” he says, flicking the ash off his cigar and watching it float to the floor. His grin widens, mischievous. “Maybe this is nature’s way of balancing it out, huh?”

I narrow my eyes, not in the mood for his jokes. My anger simmers beneath the surface, a wave of heat rising as I stare at him. “I’ll kill you,” I growl, the words slipping out before I can stop them.

Cassian raises his hands in mock surrender, still grinning.

“Alright, alright,” he chuckles, his voice light but tinged with amusement.

He turns to leave the room, still smoking the cigar, the smoke curling in the air like a signal of his arrogance.

“I’ll leave you to it, Boss. You’re on your own for this one. ”

^^^^

Nightfall has settled over the villa, the shadows creeping along the floors as I walk through the hall toward my wing. The house is quiet, save for the distant hum of the night settling in.

As I approach my door, I hear it. The cursing, loud and clear, bouncing off the walls. The sound grates on my nerves before I even reach the door. I stop, my hand frozen just before I touch the handle.

I asked for her to be locked up in my room, but I had almost forgotten she would be this…volatile. It’s the first time since everything started that I’m unsure of how to handle her. The woman she is now—so loud, so unpredictable—is a challenge I hadn’t prepared for.

I push the door open slowly, and what I see makes my stomach tighten.

Fioretta is tied to the table in the center of the room, her hands bound, the cuffs digging into her skin.

The welts are already forming, red and angry from the struggle.

She’s pulling at the chains like an animal caught in a trap, her breaths coming in quick bursts.

Her face is flushed, her eyes wide with frustration, her body jerking as she tries to free herself.

And then she sees me.

“You evil, bad, bad man!” Her voice is sharp, cutting through the air like a blade. “What kind of animal locks their wife up like this?”

Her words are a slap. A loud, grating slap, and I hold my hands over my ears, trying to block out the sound, but it does nothing. She’s still yelling, still throwing those angry words at me like weapons.

I don’t move. I stand there for a moment, letting her voice pierce through me, forcing me to feel the full weight of her rage. The headache that’s been gnawing at me all evening intensifies with every second.

I can’t take it anymore. I snap my fingers, and a guard steps forward with the key. The sound of the chains clinking is like a metal song of defiance, each link being unlocked one by one.

As soon as the cuffs fall away, Fioretta bursts free, her body jerking with the sudden movement. She hits me hard in the chest with both hands, the force of it sending a small shockwave through my body.

“You’re a jerk!” she says, her voice still loud, but with something that feels almost empty, like a scream that’s already been spent. Her hands are pushed against me.

She stares at me for a long moment, panting, her chest heaving. Her eyes, wild and sharp, dart between me and the bed. She finally stops, her shoulders sinking as she collapses onto the bed, letting out a small, exhausted sigh.

“Go get me dinner,” she says, the words barely above a whisper, but there’s no gentleness in her tone.

I stand there, frozen, shocked at how quickly the energy in the room has shifted.

She lifts her head, those eyes of hers narrowing as she glares at me. “Why are you standing there looking stupid?” she says, her voice sharp, pushing me further into the haze of confusion. “Get me a fucking meal.”

Her words are like a command, a bitter plea wrapped in anger. I stand still for a moment longer, letting her gaze press into me. Then, suddenly, I’m moving, a rush of action that feels like a release. My feet carry me toward the door before I even realize it.

I half-run out of the room, my heart still pounding, but as soon as I reach the hallway, I force myself to compose. I remind myself—I am Serevin. The boss. The Mafia don.

The kitchen feels almost like an alien world. I’ve been in this house for years, and yet, here I am, standing by the stove like a damn amateur. It’s far beneath my usual role, but tonight, I don’t care. There’s something about Fioretta’s demands that’s chipped away at my composure.