Page 137 of Fire and Silk
I nod and step behind the curtain.
Severo is waiting. His tie’s gone, shirt half-open like he’d rather be anywhere but a ballroom. Matteo stands beside him, already holding out a glass of water and a napkin. I take the water, sip. The curtain parts again. The dons start pouring in.
They shuffle toward me like moths—kisses on my hand, comments about tone and posture. Half of them don’t even know what key I played in. I smile for each one. The smile I practiced in mirrors. Not too wide. Just sharp enough to remind them I could end them with a single word.
Then they arrive.
Maksim enters first. That ruined eye still makes people flinch. The milky whiteness sits in contrast to the dark suit he wears like armor. The scar down his temple is thick and red, healing poorly. He walks like someone who’s relearning balance.
Mina floats in behind him, all silk and coiled rage. Her dress is green, the same shade as the snake that took her brother’s eye. I keep my face calm.
I greet them like they’re family.
“Mina. Maksim.” My voice is light. “Did you enjoy the performance?”
Mina’s smile is tight. “We had no choice. Can’t have you shutting down more of our ports.”
I tilt my head. “You’ve both been so well-behaved. You can rest easy.”
She steps closer. Her perfume is the kind that turns in your throat—sweet and rotting. She leans in. Her lips don’t move at first.
Then a whisper, hot and sharp: “I’ll kill you with my own hands. You and him both.”
Severo speaks behind me. Calm, bored. “We love you too, sis.”
Mina straightens. Maksim looks at me with that one working eye, full of venom he doesn’t have the courage to speak aloud.
They leave.
I drain the last of the water, hand the glass to Matteo, and smile at the next man who steps forward to shake my hand.
Nicola walks toward me the second Mina and Maksim vanish through the far doors. She doesn’t bother with words. She just wraps her arms around me.
I melt into the hug, arms tight around her waist, chin hooked over her shoulder. She smells like citrus and something clean—like quiet mornings and open windows. I close my eyes, just for a second. It’s the safest I’ve felt all night.
“You were incredible,” she whispers. “You always are.”
I pull back and look at her. She’s beaming, cheeks flushed, eyes glassy with pride. I smile, a real one , and tuck her hair behind her ear the way she used to do for me back when the world was softer.
When we first reunited, after everything, after I told her the truth—the blood, the men, the power—she had only asked me one thing.
“Are you happy?”
Tears had slipped down my cheeks before I could answer. But I nodded. I meant it. I still do.
Nicola didn’t ask for more.
She had pulled me into her arms and told me that was all that mattered. That she would always be here. That she would love me even if I had a gun in one hand and a crown in the other.
So, I gave her something back. A new house in East Melbourne, quiet and walled, with lemon trees in the back. A new car, white leather seats, soft as clouds. A job at one of the Dante family’s clean-law branches—contracts, trusts, trade permits. The safest part of a dangerous empire.
She didn’t ask for any of it. But I needed her to have it. I needed one piece of my world to be untouched. Unbloodied. Pure.
After we say our goodbyes, I wave over one of my men and instruct him to get her home safely. She sets a date for shopping next week, teasing me about how long it’s been since I bought heels without a bodyguard at my side.
When she leaves, I stand still for a long moment.
Watching her go reminds me of who I used to be. Not because I want to go back. But because I still need something real. Something warm.
