Page 8 of Power
The woman I saved. And, as it turns out, the wife of my rival. Enzo Castelli.
Funny how life works like that, isn’t it? One minute, I’m saving her from some asshole who thinks it’s okay to disrespect women, and the next, I’m realizing she’s the key to everything I’ve been waiting for. She’s his weakness. And I intend to exploit it.
I’ve spent the last few days shadowing her. Not in some creepy, obsessive way, but enough to catch every detail. Now I know she’s got her little security team trailing her like a pack of wolves. The usual. Nothing I didn’t expect. Still, it makes me wonder. The night I saved her, there wasn’t anyone around. No bodyguards, no backup. She was alone. And that… doesn’t add up.
I lean against the hood of my car and light a cigarette. Then watch as she cuts through the trail. Jogging along the same path she always takes. She’s alone—again. A woman like her, with a husband like him, should have a shadow glued to her at all times.
I don’t know why, but I want to see if I can crack through that wall of hers. There’s also something about her—something that doesn’t sit right with me. Something I can’t wait to find out.
Fucking hell, she’s beautiful.
She moves like she owns the damn place, her ponytail bouncing with every step. Like she has nothing to worry about. Like she wasn’t nearly assaulted just days ago.
But I know better. I’ve seen what fear looks like. And she was afraid that night.
I take a slow drag and exhale as she disappears around a bend. Maybe she was running from something that night. Maybe she still is. Either way, she’s a loose thread in a very dangerous tapestry, and I don’t like loose threads.
I flip the cigarette to the sidewalk and push off the car.
Time for the good ol’ accidental run-in.
I wait until she’s almost past me before stepping out from behind a tree.
She jolts back like she’s been shocked. “Jesus fucking Christ—”
“Good morning to you, too,” I say, unable to hide the smirk creeping up on my face.
She puts a hand on her chest trying to catch her breath, then narrows her eyes. “Are you seriously stalking me now?”
“Stalking?” I raise an eyebrow. “That’s a bit presumptuous, don’t you think?”
She crosses her arms, still winded from her run but sharp enough to catch my move. “So what, you just happen to be in the same park, on the same path, at the exact same time as me?”
I flash her a grin. “Coincidences happen every day.”
She lets out a short laugh, completely unimpressed. “Right. And I suppose next you’ll tell me you’re just out here for a jog?”
I glance down at my suit. “Do I look like a guy who jogs?”
“Not even a little.”
She moves to step around me, but I shift, blocking her way—not aggressively, just enough to make a point. She stops and her eyes dart to mine, wary now.
“I wanted to see you again,” I say, my voice dipping just enough to make sure she knows this isn’t small talk. “You’ve got quite the security team, but the night I saved you, no one was around. What’s that about?”
She pauses for a while, looking as though she has so much to say and so little time. I watch as she bites down hard on her lip, enough to draw blood, before glancing away from me. When she looks up at me again, the compulsive need to tell me the truth is gone, replaced by placid indifference.
“It’s nothing,” she says quickly, trying to brush past me with a shrug. “My husband’s just very protective of me.”
I don’t know why, but the word husband coming out of her mouth irks me.
“Protective, huh?” I cross my arms. “Funny. Doesn’t seem like he’s doing a great job.”
Her jaw tightens. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
I shrug. “Just that a woman with a very protective husband doesn’t usually end up in an alley with no one watching her back.”
Her lips press together, the corner of her mouth twitching like she’s fighting the urge to say something reckless. I almost hope she does.
