Page 63 of The Silence Lies

He shakes his head. “Not one bit. But what can we do? These men would rather die for Bianchi than let her get hit by The Vultures, I know that much.”

Luca glances in my direction before addressing us all. “See that it stays that way.”

The twins nod in agreement, and then we head inside. Luca goes to take a call, while the twins crash out on the couch. They’ve been running patrols in the evenings to ensure Serafina’s guards can be trusted. They might not be a leading family, but they’re proving their allegiance and capability tenfold.

“She’s in the den,” Levi comments as he joins me in the kitchen.

I glance up at him as I make coffee. I’ve kept myself out of discussions, only waiting to be told what we’re doing, when we’re doing it. So the fact Sera is in her den is a surprise to me. Usually, she’d be getting ready to head out to one of her clubs to check in on things.

“She stays here until it’s safe,” Levi adds without looking at me.

Though I don’t say it, I know he hears how he sounds. Caging Bianchi in her home is not the right way to deal with the situation, but it is the safest. Out in the open, anyone can get a hit on her. All it takes is the right moment for someone to take the shot and I don’t want to think about who would be the one behind the trigger.

I nod to confirm I understand Levi’s order before taking the mugs down to the den. I’m not sure what I expected to find, but seeing Sera with her head in her hands, looking so defeated, makes my chest ache uncomfortably. She’s a leader, she shouldn’t be holed up here.

The room she’s in can definitely accommodate her work, but it’s below ground, where there’s no natural light. The room is dimly lit, too. Lamps staged on tables in every corner of the room are the only source of light. The slate walls are decorated with brass embellished artwork that surround a large tv screen. There’s a large sectional in the center of the room, and behind the couch, Sera is sitting at her desk.

“Before you ask, I have no choice.”

I raise a brow as I approach her, placing the mug of coffee on her desk.

She lifts her head, brows furrowing as she glances between me and the mug before her. “I don’t remember telling you how I take my coffee.”

I go to take the mug back, but she reaches for it with a smile, muttering a thanks on the way. It’s not often she actually speaks to me. Aside from her visiting me yesterday to tell me to suck my shit up because she has to as well, we haven’t actually been alone together much.

Sera rubs her forehead, wincing when she makes contact with the bandage. It’s starting to look like it needs replacing. She’s itching it like it needs to come off, too, but those fuckers aren’t easy. It was a nasty gash on her temple, so the doctor probably used the good stuff.

“Figlio di puttana,” she hisses, scratching at the edge of bandage again. She pushes off her chair, rushing to the mirror on the wall to pick at the material. The more I watch her, the more flustered she gets until she’s growling at her reflection.

I step in before she hurts herself, guiding her to the edge of the desk. She perches on it while I work on getting rid of the dressing.

Sera calms beneath me, her shoulders relaxing from my touch. “You know,” she says to me with a smile, “the silence is getting old now.”

I pause, moving my hands away to get a good look at her. From what I remember, she liked the silence—preferred it, even.

“Don’t you get bored of it? Don’t you like to talk to people?”

No.

Talking gets you killed in this line of work and I rely heavily on my reputation. I built it from the ground up, working for various organizations, questionable criminals that would make my life hell if I talked. Now, I’m in a position where my silence gets me everywhere, and I’d like to keep it that way.

I shake my head, but I’m still under her scrutiny. She tilts her own, giving me more access to the bandage, though I wish I could run my fingers over her smooth skin. My thoughts run with that image for a second or two, imagining what she would taste like under my tongue.

“I’m assuming you’re like this for a reason?”

I snap out of my thought, nodding in agreement before she has the chance to question me on what I was thinking.

“Secrets?” she mumbles.

I nod again, peeling the last edge of the bandage off. The cut on her head is healing nicely. I’m no professional but I don’t see anything crawling out of it, so that’s a good sign.

Sera narrows her gaze on me, the silence between us thick and cracking under its weight. “What secrets do you have, Giovanni?” she smirks. “I wonder if Mancini can suss you out?”

He probably could. I’ve never made an attempt to cover my tracks or hide my history. Everyone who wants to know could easily find out my background, but that’s not what people like Alfredo Bianchi want. They trust me implicitly because of my reputation. It doesn’t matter what lurks in my past because I have proven time and time again that I am reliable—apart from the other night.

There is a part of me that wishes I could open up to her. I could tell her so many things; like how she is stronger than she believes, that she has what it takes to carry her family name because she’s so effortless in the way she composes herself. She handles shit like a pro, and no man can be matched against her compassion and sincerity.

It’s all pipe dreams though. I can’t tell her anything for fear of opening the gaping wound of sadness festering away within. I can’t divulge any secret of mine, let alone another’s, because it won’t just get me killed.

---