Page 30 of Power
I can’t wait to see his face when he realizes how deep the knife’s buried. His men, the ones he brought today, thinking they were loyal? They could’ve shot him at my word. Watching him squirm, not knowing where the next blow is coming from, is pure satisfaction.
I walk away with a grin spreading across my face. I’ve won today, but what’s waiting for me at home? That’s the real victory.
***
In the car, I open my laptop. Raffaele looks over from the front seat.
“You’re playing him, boss,” he says, his voice a little too flat. “I didn’t realize it was all part of the plan.”
I barely look at him. “You don’t have to understand. You just have to follow.”
I type in a few commands, the screen lighting up with information. Enzo’s house. His movements. Sergio planted the trackers, and it’s all coming together.
“We’re two steps ahead,” I say. “While Enzo’s focused on me, he’s missing everything else.”
“You also hacked into his phone?”
I don’t look up. “He’s too busy trying to fight ghosts. I’m already playing a different game.”
Chapter 9
Vittoria
I can’t stop thinking about how Dario fucked me.
The way his hands moved over my skin, the way the water lapped at us, pulling me deeper and tighter into him. It was raw, almost savage—nothing like I’d ever experienced. I can’t forget it, and I can’t tell anyone. I don’t even know what to think about it, let alone say. What if he doesn't care? What if it meant nothing to him?
The new room feels cold. There’s a view of the garden outside, and the trees stretch up toward the sky, like something in a painting. The house is unnervingly quiet. I can hear the thud of my own heartbeat, and when I try to still myself, I feel like the walls are closing in. Dario’s avoidance doesn't help, either. It’s like he's become a ghost to me, slipping in and out of the house like nothing ever happened. I hate it. The uncertainty eats at me.
I pull myself out of bed and walk down the hall. I’m trying to find a distraction, something to occupy my mind, something to shake off what’s building in my chest. That's when I bump into her—Dannika, the housekeeper.
Her sharp eyes scan me from head to toe. “You need to stay in your room,” she says, her voice clipped.
"Why?" I ask, crossing my arms. “Is there a rule I missed?”
She stares at me for a moment, then sighs like she’s been forced into dealing with an annoying child. “It’s not safe for you to wander around,” she snaps, taking a step forward like she’s trying to herd me back. “Stay where you’re supposed to. The master doesn’t like people snooping around.”
I raise an eyebrow. "Master?" I repeat the word, tasting it like it’s something bitter.
She flushes but doesn’t back down. "Dario. He’s the one who calls the shots here."
I look at her, wondering if that’s just a polite way of saying she’s got some kind of thing for him. The way her lips curl when she says his name doesn’t seem like it’s just about respect. It’s too... possessive.
“I don’t care about Dario,” I say, half to myself. But it’s a lie, and I know it.
Dannika watches me closely. “You might not, but trust me, it doesn’t take much to see what’s going on.” She’s practically sneering now. “You’re not the first woman to walk through that door.”
I don't respond, but her words leave a sour taste in my mouth. I want to tell her to keep her assumptions to herself, but instead, I turn on my heel and head back down the hall, feeling her eyes burn into my back.
***
Hours pass, and I try to relax, to let the thoughts in my head settle. I lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, hoping sleep would come, but it doesn't. Instead, the mask of his touch resurfaces, and it’s like I’m drowning in the memory.
I hate how much it lingers. I hate that it feels like it matters.
I’m lost in my thoughts when I hear footsteps. I don’t even hear the door open, just the sudden pressure on my neck, followed by a mask being forced over my face. A strong hand grips my arm, and my heart leaps in my chest as I try to pull away. I can’t see. I can’t breathe.
“Dario?” I manage to croak, but the voice that answers me is muffled, unrecognizable.
