Page 84 of King Of Order

Her grace and presence were akin to those of a feline.

It was heartwarming how she sought my attention, almost instinctive, like a cat nuzzling into a warm hand, her affectionate nature a comforting influence.

Now and then, she’d wander over, brushing her arm against my shoulder, seeking affection.

I stroked her hair and ran my fingers down the curve of her spine, loving the way she purred under my touch. Her eyes fluttered closed in contentment.

Grief still lingered in the corners of her eyes, but it was fading like the last wisps of a storm clearing away.

I indulged her through it without pressure or expectations—being there for her, a constant anchor in the ebb and flow of her emotions.

I sensed the tension leaving her body as she settled against me. She released a deep, slow breath; her face relaxed in what appeared to be the closest thing to the peace she’d enjoyed in days, perhaps even years.

‘You seem chill,’ I murmured, stroking her back.

My tone had a hint of a smile as my hand rested at the nape of her neck, my fingers playing with her hair.

Chiara let out a soft laugh, her head resting on my chest. ‘It’s my morning meditation,’ she replied. ‘All that mindfulness, grounding me.’

I chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

‘Oh, right. Your contemplation,’ I rasped, my lips brushing on her temple. ‘That must be it. Not the absolute fuck fest and grinding we’ve been enjoying.’

She sat up a little, stretching like a cat waking from a nap, her body languid and fluid. ‘Actually,’ she began, her eyes lighting up with that familiar spark, ‘I’m considering attending a yoga class today. Just to, you know, further relax.’

Her smile widened as she leaned into me. ‘You should come with me. It’ll be good for you.’

I faltered for a second, a brief shadow crossing my face.

Thinking of the unidentified man in a dark car parked down the street, watching her house.

I’d taken note of his number plate and typed it into our private app, which Ciprioni Security used to track down suspects.

The results made me suck my teeth.

The vehicle came back as owned by a shell company, which I soon uncovered operated under the Barbieri umbrella.

Cazzo!

I hesitated to let Chiara know, unwilling to burst her bubble yet.

She was finding her peace again.

The last thing she needed was to be dragged back into the mess of the Tirone mafia world, nor to unidentified individuals still hunting her, with enemies waiting for the right moment to strike.

‘Why? What’s wrong?’ she said, cutting through my thoughts.

I dodged. ‘Che palle! Yoga? It’s going to be torture,’ I growled at her.

‘Like on a serious note, grow some,’ she clipped back.

‘I don’t have the appropriate gear,’ I grumbled.

‘Your gym shorts and shirt will be fine,’ she countered. ‘You have those in your luggage,si?’

I growled my displeasure. ‘I can’t think of anything less suited for me—stretching in strange positions and breathing exercises.

Worse, a bunch of people sitting cross-legged, humming like they’ve achieved the pinnacle of enlightenment. It isn’t my thing. Never had been, never will be.’

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