Page 104 of Fire and Silk

I let the moment settle, then move closer.

My arm circles her waist. I feel the pause in her body before she lets herself lean, just slightly.

“Send us the time and place,” I say. “We’ll be there.”

Salvatri’s smile comes slow but pointed. He doesn’t look at me long. Just enough.

Then he shifts to her.

His face changes—just slightly. Not softer. More familiar. He speaks lower.

“I’ll be expecting you,” he says.

She doesn’t respond. Her mouth presses into a line, eyes locked on his. There’s no pleasure in them. No clarity either.

He steps back, one hand brushing the door of his car.

“You look beautiful,” he says.

He holds the look for a second longer than necessary, then climbs in and starts the engine. His tires ease against the gravel. The gate slides open.

We watch him disappear.

****

The room is dark when we enter our room. The room I have shared with her for a month.

I close the door behind us. Lira walks ahead, slipping off her shoes before she reaches the bed. Her dress unzips with a quiet whisper. The red silk falls to the floor. She steps out of it and leaves it pooled near her feet.

Her back is to me. Bare. Pale. Her shoulder blades shift as she unhooks her bra. Her skin glows in the low light from the wall lamp. One hand lifts to undo her earrings. The air around her hums like it’s waiting.

I’ve lied to myself.

I told myself she was a tool. That she was a name on paper. A body in a strategy. That vengeance needed a shape, and hers was convenient.

But it’s not vengeance making my hands curl.

It’s not power that has me stepping forward.

I reach her just before she pulls the covers back. My hands slide around her waist, palms flat against her stomach. Her breath catches. I bend my head and kiss her neck. Then lower, just beneath her ear.

She doesn’t pull away.

“Don’t go,” I say against her skin. “Don’t meet him.”

She doesn’t lean into the kiss.

Her body stays still, spine straight, arms slack at her sides. Then—gently—she pulls away. Not fast. Not abrupt. Just enough to make the space between us real again.

She turns to face me, her expression unreadable at first. Her lips part before her voice finds shape.

“I want to see him.”

Her voice is soft. Not uncertain. Just tired.

“Just once more,” she says. “He was family. My first love.”

Her eyes lift to mine.