Page 59 of Madness & Mercy

Julian’s sprawled across the bed, shirtless and tangled in the sheets like he fucking owns the place. His eyes are shut, but I know better.

“Get up,” I say.

He doesn’t react.

I take a step closer, my voice dropping an octave.“Don’t make me repeat myself.”

His eyes crack open, just enough to meet mine. He doesn’t bother trying to hide the smirk curling at his lips.

“I was having the most wonderful dream,” he murmurs. “I was on a deserted island,thousandsof miles away from you.”

He pauses, a flicker of amusement in his eyes.

“You ruined it.”

“Dream’s over,” I mutter.

He stretches out slowly, like he’s testing how far he can push me.

“In case you’ve forgotten,” I say coolly, “you still have a job to do. I didn’t drag you into my house out of charity.”

Julian’s eyes flick up from the bed. His wrists are still red from the night before.

“You watching me sleep now,boss?”he mocks. “Should I be flattered or file a report?”

I step closer, gripping the footboard with one hand and leaning in just enough to fill his space.

“You still think this is a game?” I hiss. “You’re not here to sleep. You’re not here to test boundaries and run your mouth. You’re here to prove your worth. Or I put a bullet in your head and call it a day.”

He stiffens, but he doesn’t look away.

“I gave you back your room. Let you sleep in. That was acourtesy,Julian. Don’t make me regret it.”

I turn to leave, then pause at the threshold and look back over my shoulder.

“Get dressed. You’re meeting me downstairs in ten. One of the guards will escort you.”

He scoffs under his breath. “What if I take fifteen?”

I don’t even blink. “Then I drag you out of here naked. Either way, you’ll be there.”

I step into the hall.

“Tick tock,cagniolo.”

And I don’t wait for an answer.

I hear him before I see him.

Boots on marble. The low murmur from the guard. The slow creak of the doors swinging open.

And there he is.

Brought in like a prisoner without chains, though no chains or binds could ever keep that mouth of his shut. Keeping my head lowered, I steal a quick glance at him. He’s wearing the same clothes from yesterday, despite having access to a designer wardrobe.

Enzo and Luca stand near the table with me, reviewing potential suspects, maps, and manifests from the pier: dock numbers, cargo codes, intercepted shipments. My mind should be on the work.

It isn’t.