Page 48 of Fire and Silk

He didn’t loosen his grip. His jaw clenched again. I could see the muscle jump under his cheek. He was trying to rein it in. Admirable. Pointless.

I lifted my hands—not in surrender, but in invitation—and brought them gently to his. My thumbs traced the curve of his knuckles, a slow caress rather than an act of defiance. The leather of my gloves brushed warm against his skin.

“I kept her well for you,” I said with a smile that didn’t need teeth.

His reaction came swift and ugly.

“You fucking sicko,” he muttered. Then he shoved me—hard.

I stumbled backward and let it happen. The impact wasn’t enough to bruise, but I let my feet go out from under me anyway, landing in the dirt beside the roses. The brim of my hat toppled sideways. A breeze caught it, sent it rolling toward the hedge.

Matteo’s boots scraped forward fast, hand already reaching toward his pistol again, but I lifted a hand from the soil and snapped my fingers .

“Matteo,” I said, voice calm, almost airy. “Not yet.”

He stopped immediately, though the tension in his shoulders betrayed him.

I rose slowly, brushing the dust from my palms. The soil clung to the creases in my gloves. I flexed my fingers and looked up at Domenico with new interest.

The rage hadn’t faded from his face, but there was something else in his eyes now. Confusion. Revulsion. A flicker of disbelief, like he hadn’t expected me to be this calm, this composed.

I smiled again and stepped toward him.

“Well,” I said softly, “shall we go see her then?”

His lips parted, but no sound came out.

I turned to Matteo, who still stood at the ready. “Arrange a feast for our guest. I think I like him a lot.”

Matteo’s brow twitched, but he didn’t argue. He tapped a finger to his earpiece and stepped away to issue the orders.

I gestured to Domenico and began walking back toward the stone path that led deeper into the estate.

He hesitated for half a second, then followed. His boots hit the gravel like punctuation— angry, unwilling.

I kept the pace slow.

“You were in the navy, yes?” I asked without looking back. “How was that? I always considered enlisting in the marines myself, but they don’t seem to like men like me. Something about psychological vetting.”

He didn’t answer.

Undeterred, I glanced over my shoulder, letting my eyes trail down the lines of his arms and chest.

“You’re very... toned. You must have taken it seriously.” I tilted my head, genuinely curious. “Do you enjoy gyms? They exhaust me. All that sweating and grunting. I prefer quiet labor. Roses, mostly. But I do envy your build.”

I smiled wider and gestured him toward the colonnade.

“Shall we continue? You came all this way, after all.”

The descent took longer than expected. The staircase coiled like a spine carved into the hillside—limestone walls, flickering sconces, and the faint hum of the security grid embedded behind the old stone. Domenico followed behind me, silent now, though I could hear the tension in his breath, the barely restrained fury pulsing just behind his measured steps. He walked like a man trying not to lunge.

The corridor opened into a vault-lined hallway. Soft recessed lights glowed amber along the ceiling, revealing fourguards stationed evenly across the corridor. Two more flanked the steel door at the far end. She was behind that door.

Domenico slowed. He took in the presence of the guards, the lack of windows, the smooth, seamless floor that muffled footfall. His voice came low and disgusted as he stepped beside me.

“You locked her up. Like an animal.”

I stopped walking.