Page 28 of The Bonventi Secret
Because he does know, doesn't he?
My brain turns into researcher mode, analyzing everything.
He's done his homework, figured out exactly what would appeal to me most. It's a calculated move, designed to soften my resistance, maybe? Or to make me more flexible to his will.
And the worst part?
It's working.
"Reel it in, Livia," I tell myself sternly. "Don't let him manipulate you like this. Don't lose control."
When I get like this, I know what I need, a book. I reach for Bram Stoker'sDraculaand walk over to one of the comfy-looking leather chairs and take a seat. I open to read, and of course, it's another first edition. Clearly, he's a collector or something. I mean, come on—how many first editions does one have?
A few hours go by, and when I look up at the clock, it reads 12:15 a.m. I close the book and set it on the side table.
I stretch, feeling the stiffness in my muscles from sitting for so long. As I stand, my eyes wander around the room. That's when I notice it—a small, antique desk tucked away in the corner. As always, my curiosity gets the better of me, and I walk over to get a closer look.
It's beautiful.
A 1900s writing desk, its wooden surface worn in spots from continuous use over the past 100 years. I run my fingers alongthe smooth surface, admiring the craftsmanship. I remember that these desks are known for their hidden compartments, designed to conceal important documents. Part of me itches to explore, to see if I can uncover any secrets.
But before I can begin my investigation, something else catches my eye. A framed photograph sits on the desk, and I lean in for a closer look.
It's Enzo, but not the Enzo I know. This is a younger version, his face unlined, eyes bright with an emotion I've never seen in them before—joy. He stands between two other men, both bearing a striking resemblance to him.
Brothers.
I didn't realize or even know he had siblings.
There are other people in the background, all smiling and laughing, but it's the relationship between Enzo and his brothers that draws my attention. They have their arms around each other, their postures relaxed and familiar. There's a genuine warmth in their smiles, a sense of camaraderie that feels real.
I can't tear my eyes away from Enzo's face. He looks so different here—open, unguarded, happy. So different than the calculating man I've come to know.
The image stirs something in me, a memory of my own. I think of the few photos I have of Gabriel and me from when we were younger. Before everything changed. Before his life became entangled in this dark, dangerous world.
For the first time since I arrived here, I find myself growing curious about Enzo Bonventi. Not just as the man I'm beingforced to marry, but as a person. What shaped him? What experiences molded him into the man he is today?
It's easier to hate Enzo when I see him as nothing more than a cold-hearted monster. This glimpse into his past—it complicates things. Makes him more human. And that's dangerous.
Because if I start seeing Enzo as a person—a real, complex human being with a history and relationships and emotions—it becomes harder to maintain my anger. Harder to resist. And I can't afford that. I can't let my guard down, not even for a moment.
But as I stare at that photo, I can't help but wonder about the story behind it. What happened to those brothers? Are they still close? Do they still share that easy camaraderie I see captured in this moment?
I shake my head, trying to dispel these thoughts. It doesn't matter who Enzo used to be. What matters is who he is now—the man who's taken away my freedom, who's trying to force me into a life I never wanted.
I turn away from the desk, but I can't quite shake the image of that younger Enzo from my mind, and despite my best efforts, I find myself wondering about the path that led from that version to the one I know.
I need to be careful,I remind myself.
He's still dangerous. Still my enemy. I can't let this moment of humanity weaken my resolve.
But as I make my way out of the library, heading toward the suite, I can't help but feel that something has shifted. The worldhas become a little more complicated, a little less black and white.
And I'm not sure how I feel about that.
I step out into the hallway, and as the library doors shut behind me, I realize how eerily quiet it is. I try to walk as gently as I can, the marble flooring making each step audible. Since it's past midnight, darkness is all around, save for the occasional dim wall sconces or some type of floor lighting Enzo has in certain areas of the house.
A sudden movement outside a window catches my eye, “Jesus Christ,” I call out and I freeze. For a split second, panic grips me, but then I realize it's just a guard on patrol, his silhouette barely visible in the moonlight.
