Page 78 of His to Control
Something in his tone sets off warning bells. I keep my expression neutral, even as I catalog the subtle shifts in the room—the guard by the bookcase adjusting his stance, the way Montoni’s fingers trace the folder’s edge.
“Each piece fits perfectly together,” he continues, opening the folder with deliberate slowness. “The blood samples, the security footage, all authentic, all verified.” His smile sharpens. “Almost too perfect, wouldn’t you say?”
“I pride myself on thoroughness.” My grip tightens fractionally on the glass. “You paid for perfection.”
“That I did.” He removes a photograph from the folder and studies it.
I maintain my neutral expression as Montoni sets the photo down, though bile rises in my throat. The scotch turns to ash on my tongue.
“About the payment—” I begin, but he waves his hand dismissively.
“Tell me, Remy, have you ever seen true beauty?” Montoni leans back, swirling his drink. “You must have since you know Eve.” I fight to keep a straight face. Now that all the cards are on the table, the stakes became even higher. I have to win.
“My Lina, she was exquisite. Liv has her eyes, you know. That same defiant spark.”
My fingers tighten around the glass as the man points at a picture—Lina Montoni, radiant in a summer dress, holding a young Eve. Before Ano destroyed them both.
“The resemblance is striking,” I say, keeping my voice detached. Professional. Empty.
“Lina was… passionate.” His lips curl into something that isn’t quite a smile. “Such fire in bed. Makes me wonder if my dear Liv inherited that particular trait.”
The crystal creaks under my grip. I force my fingers to relax, channeling years of practiced control into maintaining my mask. Eve’s broken voice echoes in my head, describing how she found her mother’s body, the staged suicide that fooled everyone but her.
“I wouldn’t know,” I reply coldly. “I ensure clean kills, nothing more.”
“Come now.” Montoni’s eyes gleam with malice. “A beautiful woman like that? Surely you sampled the goods before disposal.” He leans forward, dropping his voice. “Did she beg like her mother?”
The words hit like physical blows. I picture Eve’s face, imagine her terror in her final moments—the fiction I sold him. “I don’t mix business with pleasure.”
“Pity.” He drains his glass. “Lina’s last moments were… memorable. Such lovely sounds she made as the life drained from her.” His gaze fixes on me, searching for a reaction. “Before I arranged her final pose, of course. The police are so quick to accept a wealthy man’s grief.”
I meet his stare with practiced indifference, though every muscle in my body screams to end him. “The contract was fulfilled. I believe we’re finished here.”
“Perhaps.” Montoni’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Though I do miss hearing a woman’s screams echo through these halls. Reminds me of better days.”
I maintain my composure, but inside, my control splinters. Every word confirms what Liv endured in this house, every casual confession feeding the rage I carefully contain. But I can’t break character. Not now. Not when her life depends on my performance.
“She takes her coffee black now,” Montoni muses, examining his empty glass. “Two sugars when stressed. Watching her through your kitchen cameras, pacing at 3 a.m.—reminds me of her mother’s restless habits.”
Ice spreads through my veins. Those details… impossible, unless—
“The way she curls against you while sleeping,” he continues, his voice almost gentle. “Head tucked under your chin, one hand always reaching for you. Sweet, really. However, I prefer the footage from your shower. The marks you leave on her skin… quite possessive, aren’t you? And that bath scene? You played her exactly where you wanted her, did you? And you are telling me you haven’t sampled the goods… Shame on you, Remy.”
My grip threatens to shatter the crystal in my hand. Every word confirms access to my most private moments, violations of the sanctuary I built and put her in. The study’s wood paneling seems to close in, suffocating in its intimacy.
“Tell me, Remy,” Montoni leans forward, “does she still whisper in her sleep? Those precious little confessions about her investigation, about her fears… all captured so perfectly by your high-end security system.”
The betrayal hits like a physical blow. I turn, meeting Marcus’s gaze by the door. That hard-earned trust dissolves as his mask of loyalty cracks, revealing something darker, more authentic. His lips curl into a smile I’ve never seen before—predatory, cold.
“Your encryption is impressive,” Marcus says quietly. “But everyone has a price.”
“The conversations in your office about dismantling my empire,” Montoni adds, savoring each word. “Your plans to protect her, to help her expose everything… Did you really think I wouldn’t have eyes inside your inner circle?”
The rage building in my chest threatens to explode, but I force it down. Each breath feels like swallowing glass. Marcus—my most trusted security chief, the man I considered closer than blood—has been feeding Montoni everything. Every private moment, every vulnerable confession, every strategy session… all betrayed.
“I especially enjoyed her declaration of love,” Montoni continues. “Very touching. Though I wonder if Liv would have said those words if she knew about all the awful things you did? About what you really did there?”
Marcus steps forward, his familiar stance now a mockery of our years together. The gun in his hand isn’t just a weapon—it’s the final betrayal of fifteen years of trust.