Page 101 of Lord of the Dark

"Fiona loves Italy," Carter cut in, trying to defuse the tension but only sounding half-hearted. His arm rested possessively on my thigh, his grip demanding—uncharacteristically territorial. He was using me as a trophy in front of these men, just like he planned to do with the Russians. "It's her favorite country," he added, throwing me a quick glance, expecting confirmation.

"Yes?" Alessandro replied. His eyes—they betrayed the volcano simmering within him. They scrutinized Carter, tracked every movement of Carter’s hand on me with a mix of mockery and patience, like a predator who didn’t need to rush its prey. "You seem so... demanding. Italy suits you perfectly. It has much tooffer for people with high standards."

Carter laughed nervously, visibly unsure how to take it. "Oh, Fiona is demanding," he countered quickly, trying to sound casual. "But she also knows how to enjoy life. We arrived yesterday. Saw Rome, did a little sightseeing. Tomorrow, I want to show her a few of my favorite spots."

Alessandro leaned forward slightly, his gaze fixed on Carter, yet I felt every one of his words was meant just as much for me. "Rome is essential to see," he said slowly. Then, a mocking smile played on his lips. "But Florence has its own unique charm. Especially for those who know how to enjoy life." His eyes flashed, lingering on me briefly before adding with veiled provocation: "Don’t you agree, Fiona?"

I felt heat rise to my face, managing only a tight nod.

Carter patted my thigh, making me flinch involuntarily.

Alessandro spared him no further comment, his gaze locking onto mine. We both knew tomorrow had long been reserved for him. That knowledge hung between us like an unspoken pact.

Carter, oblivious to it all, slid his hand up and down my thigh—a gesture as possessive as it was clumsy. I wanted nothing more than to throw his drink in his face.

Alessandro watched us in silence, seemingly weighing whether to say something—likely because he could plainly see how uncomfortable Carter’s behavior made me. Suddenly, he straightened. "Another round?" he asked rhetorically, not even waiting for our answer before signaling the waiter. Carter merely nodded eagerly, visibly relieved at the change of subject.

Ricci, who had been a quiet observer until now, burst into loud laughter over some wine anecdote, his movements already slightly unsteady. Alessandro spared him only a brief glance before leaning forward. With a barely perceptible smile, he murmured something to the waiter—too soft for me to catch. The waiter nodded wordlessly and swiftly withdrew.

"Florence is an interesting place," Matteo remarked. "If I had more time, I’d invest in property here. There’s a whole range of very intriguing options."

"Florence is ideally situated. It’s not just the capital of Tuscany but also strategically significant," Alessandro agreed, piquing Carter’s interest.

"I’ve heard it’s one of Italy’s most promising regions. Especially in terms of green energy." I could tell Carter was completely clueless, just trying to impress. Almost reflexively, I shook my head.

"Green energy?" Alessandro leaned forward slightly, a trace of amusement in his voice. "That’s indeed a growing market, particularly when paired with sustainable architecture. Florence has a lot to offer—if one knows where to look."

Matteo nodded in agreement. "Exactly. There are many historic buildings here that can be renovated and modernized without losing their original charm. With the right investments, one could achieve quite a lot."

Carter cleared his throat, attempting a comment that came off awkwardly. "That does sound like an exciting opportunity. I could imagine such projects being interesting for foreign investors as well. Italy is, after all, known for... well, its beauty and history."

Alessandro remained unshaken, replying with a charming smile: "Precisely, Carter. History meets innovation. Though it requires finesse and a deep understanding of Italian culture. It’s not for everyone." His words were polite, but the undertone wasn’t lost on me—nor, likely, on Carter.

Matteo shifted the topic slightly, perhaps to diffuse the tension. "The blend of culture and modernity here is unique. Florence is like a chessboard—every move must be carefully considered. To invest here, one needs not just capital but, above all, the right network."

"True," Alessandro agreed, his gaze now fixed directly on Carter. "Networks are everything in Italy. Connections, trust... and sometimes a good instinct for risk. But that’s your specialty, isn’t it, Mr. Vaughn? Even in Europe, people talk about your network in the States." You cold-blooded liar. He was playing his part flawlessly. He despised Carter, knew he was insignificant, and yet managed to shower him with praise—without betraying the slightest emotion.

Carter squared his shoulders slightly, as if savoring the unexpected flattery. "Well, I do like hearing that," he replied with a smug smile, basking in the words. "My team works hard to build those connections. I believe that nowadays, success in a market like this requires not just capital but vision." He paused, as if gauging the impact of his words, before continuing. "And, of course, a certain appetite for risk. But I’m sure we all know that the greatest risks often yield the highest returns." His eyes flicked to Alessandro as he delivered this with a mix of conviction and pride.

I noticed the subtle twitch at the corners of Alessandro’s mouth—a telltale sign of the amused game he was playing. "Without a doubt, Carter," he replied smoothly, his voice dripping with flattery. "You’re a man who knows how to spot and seize opportunities."

Carter had leaned forward slightly, just enough to miss my faint headshake in Alessandro’s direction.

When the waiter returned, he carried a tray of drinks in colors that looked venomous and unnatural—one pale yellow, one pink, one blood-red, and one particularly toxic green. I reached out to distribute the glasses, but Alessandro was faster. His fingers closed around my wrist as if it were the most natural thing in the world, his grip firm. He paused, his gaze locking onto mine with unsettling intensity. "I’ll handle this," he murmured, velvet-soft yet leaving no room for argument.His grip loosened, and he picked up the glasses one by one, distributing them—the toxic green to Carter, the pink to me, the yellow for himself, and the blood-red to Ricci.

Alessandro raised his glass, his voice deep and measured. "Gentlemen... and honored lady—to us. Shall we keep up with the formalities, or finally pull the stick out of our asses?"

'Honored lady'—and from his lips, no less. I couldn’t help but laugh.

"Russo, what the hell did you order for us? Trying to poison us?" Ricci asked, amused, as he twisted his glass in front of him like he could decipher its contents by sight alone.

"That would be murder," Alessandro joked with exaggerated irony, swirling his own glass of yellow liquid.

Carter, suddenly far from relaxed, eyed his drink suspiciously. "Why do I get the toxic green one while you get the boring yellow?"

Alessandro grinned. "Because the green one’s laced with a sedative." It wasn’t entirely out of the question—he had already slipped me drugs tonight. He’d do anything to get his way.

My pulse spiked as Carter turned to him, indignant. "Cut the bullshit," he hissed. "I want the yellow one."

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