Page 86 of Stalk Me

I stand up, my chair scraping against the marble floor. Three pairs of eyes turn to me.

“None of you will touch her.” My voice is steady despite the rage burning in my chest. “She’s mine to deal with.”

“Malishka...” Nikolai starts, but I cut him off with a sharp look.

“No. You want her dead? That’s too easy. I want her stripped of everything she values. Her money, her status, her connections.” I trace my finger along the edge of a photograph. “I need her to experience what it feels like to lose everything she loves, piece by piece. To watch it all crumble while being powerless to stop it.”

Mario’s eyebrows lift. “And how do you propose to accomplish this?”

“I’m an art authenticator. I know every major player in the European art world. One whisper from me about fraudulent pieces in her collection...” I let the implication hang in the air. “Her reputation will be destroyed. Her social circles will abandon her. And then, when she’s lost it all, she’ll know it was me.”

The silence that follows is heavy with surprise and something else—respect.

“You truly are a Castellano,” Mario murmurs.

Nikolai’s hand finds my shoulder, and I feel his approval in the gentle squeeze.

Antonio nods slowly. “A fate worse than death for someone like Lucia. Living in shame, watching everything she built collapse around her.”

I lean forward, my palms flat against the cool wood of Mario’s desk. “She’ll have nowhere to turn. Every contact, every friend, every associate will slam their doors in her face. I’ve spent years building relationships in art—they trust my judgment implicitly. When I expose her collection as fraudulent, it won’t just be about the art.”

I touch a photograph showing Lucia at some glamorous event. “She’s built her entire identity on being a sophisticated collector, a tastemaker. When that crumbles, so will her carefully crafted social status.”

“The whispers will start small,” I continue, watching understanding dawn in Antonio’s eyes. “Questions about authentication, then about her judgment, her credibility. Soon, every piece she’s ever vouched for will be scrutinized. The doubt will spread like poison through her world.”

Nikolai’s grip tightens on my shoulder. “And the financial implications?”

“Catastrophic.” I allow myself a small, cold smile. “Her collection is leveraged as collateral for loans and business deals. When the authenticity comes into question, those loans will be called in. Her assets will be frozen pending investigation.”

Mario leans back, studying me with eyes so like my own. “You’ve thought this through.”

“Every detail.” I straighten up, meeting his gaze. “She’ll run, of course. But with no money, friends, or reputation, she’ll be looking over her shoulder forever. Living in fear, just like she forced me to live. Death would be a mercy she doesn’t deserve.”

I barely have time to process the gravity of my revenge plans when Nikolai pulls me into an alcove off the main hall. His lips crash against mine, hungry and demanding.

“You’re brilliant,malishka.” His fingers thread through my hair. “Absolutely brilliant.”

I melt into his touch, the tension from the meeting dissolving under his praise, when Mario’s sharp voice cuts through our moment.

“This is inappropriate.” He stands in the doorway, his face thunderous. “I won’t have a Russian bratva boss pawing at my granddaughter in my home.”

Nikolai’s body tenses against mine. He turns slowly, keeping me behind him. “Your opinion of our relationship is irrelevant.”

“The hell it is.” Mario steps forward. “She’s a Castellano. She belongs with her family, not with?—”

“Choose your next words carefully.” Nikolai’s voice drops to a dangerous whisper. “Anyone who tries to stand between Sofia and me won’t live long enough to regret it.”

The air crackles with tension as both men square off. I place my hand on Nikolai’s arm, feeling his muscles coiled tight beneath his suit jacket.

“Both of you, stop.” I step between them. “Grandfather, I understand your concerns, but my relationship with Nikolai isn’t up for debate. And Nikolai—” I turn to him, softening my voice. “Threatening my family won’t help.”

“Sofia—” Mario starts.

“No.” I hold up my hand. “I’ve spent my entire life not knowing who I am or where I came from. Now that I finally have both my family and someone I love, I won’t let either of you ruin it with testosterone-fueled posturing.”

The following silence is heavy, but the murderous gleam in both their eyes dims slightly.

“We need to work together,” I continue. “Especially now. Can you both at least try? For me?”

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