Page 21 of Intrigue
He pulls away fully now, sitting up on the bed, shaking his head like he’s trying to make sense of something that refuses to align. “You knew. And you still went.”
“I had to.”
His expression darkens. A muscle ticks in his jaw. “What is he to you, Selene? What’s this history you guys have? BecauseI look at you, and I don’t see a woman who just lost a business opportunity. I see someone who’s—” He stops himself, but I already know where his mind has gone. His voice is quieter now, but just as deep. “Why does it feel like you’re afraid of him?”
“I’m not,” I say too quickly.
Cassian laughs under his breath, but it’s bitter. “God, you think I don’t see it? The way you shut down every time I say his name? The way you came back from that warehouse looking like—” He runs a hand over his face, exhaling sharply. “Like something happened that you’re not telling me.”
My throat tightens. “Nothing happened.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
I force myself to hold his eyes, even as something inside me crumbles. “It’s complicated.”
“That’s not an answer.”
A heavy silence settles between us. I can see the war in his eyes—wanting to believe me, wanting to understand, but knowing he’s missing something. And he is. He always has been.
Finally, I say, “It’s in the past, Cassian. He’s just trying to control me because of my father. That’s all.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“I want you to trust me enough to open up to me,” he says, his voice laced with something almost like hurt. “Because it feels like you’re still caught in something I can’t touch.”
He doesn’t realize how right he is. I am caught. Tied up in chains I put on myself. And there’s no version of this where Cassian comes out unscathed.
I reach for him instead, pressing my lips against his, willing myself to get lost in him. His hands come up, hesitant at first, then stronger, pulling me closer. His touch is gentle, careful in ways Sandro’s never was. Cassian doesn’t take. He gives.
But even as I sink into his warmth, the taste of Sandro lingers. His hands, his mouth, the way he made me burn.
I try to focus on Cassian, on the safety of him, the steadiness. I let his kisses deepen, let his hands skim my waist, let myself believe, for a moment, that this is enough.
But when Cassian whispers my name, his breath warm against my skin, all I hear is Sandro’s voice.
And I know.
It will never be enough.
Chapter 7
Alessandro
Ten years ago.
The Marconi estate is as cold as I remember.
Every inch of the house is designed to remind you who is in control. The high ceilings, the marble floors, the low hum of distant voices murmuring in rooms I’m not supposed to enter—it all screams power.
I have been here before. Many times. When my father was still alive and he and Don bonded over things old men with ties in the mafia in their forties bond over.
But this time, I’m not a guest.
This time, I’m here to stay permanently.
Memories of my parents flood my mind—a fleeting image of my mother’s gentle smile, my father’s strong presence before the fire took them from me. The fire, a rival’s arson, scarred me physically and emotionally, leaving me with a relentless drive for vengeance and a coldness that matches the marble around me. Don Marconi has already offered his assistance in seeking that vengeance, under one condition: my loyalty to him.