Maldives – Midnight, Silvio's Private Villa
The ocean whispered beyond the open glass doors, its hush-tide song brushing against the silk curtains like a secret waiting to be told. Rose stood barefoot on the terrace, wrapped in one of Silvio's white shirts, oversized against her frame. The scent of him still clung to the collar — salt, smoke, and something darker. She ran her fingers down the collar absentmindedly, heart thudding in a rhythm that didn't match the waves.
Inside, Silvio slept — or pretended to. She'd watched him for minutes before slipping away. His expression had been unusually soft in sleep, the hard mask melted by dreams she could never access. But even in stillness, there was danger in him. A lion pretending to rest.
Rose's fingers clenched around a small device in her hand. A thin silver USB. Something she'd pulled quietly from his encrypted drawer earlier when she'd gone looking for a charger — or at least that's what she told herself. But when the drawer had opened without resistance, when she'd seen the marked files… curiosity turned into recklessness. Or maybe it was survival. Maybe it was fear dressed as desire.
She tucked the USB into her bikini strap and stepped back into the bedroom.
The moment her foot touched the rug, his voice came — low, ragged, half-asleep.
"You're colder than the air, La Fiora. Come back to bed."
She froze.
He was still lying on his side, eyes half-closed — but she knew better than to assume he hadn't noticed her absence. The man missed nothing. Ever.
"Couldn't sleep," she murmured, climbing in beside him, her breath slightly shallow. "The waves were loud."
He turned, pulling her against his bare chest, and kissed her shoulder without a word. But his arms wrapped tighter than before, possessive, anchoring. She wondered, suddenly, if he had seen her take the USB. If he was waiting for her to confess. Or watching to see how far she'd go.
Rose traced her fingers along his collarbone, leaning in. "You were dreaming," she whispered. "Your mouth moved."
Silvio blinked slowly, then exhaled. "Not a dream," he said. "A memory."
She looked up. "Of what?"
His eyes flicked to hers — unreadable, like a sealed door. "The night I saw your mother for the last time."
The air dropped a degree.
Rose sat up slightly. "Was she scared?"
"No." He stared at the ceiling. "She was never scared. Not even when she should have been."
Rose hesitated. "What did she say to you?"
Silvio didn't answer right away. Then: "She asked me to protect you. And I said no."
The words struck like a cold slap. "Why?"
"Because protection meant weakness. Attachment." He turned his head, gaze slicing into hers. "And I had already failed at loving anything without destroying it."
The silence turned heavy. Rose felt the sting behind her eyes. "And now?"
Silvio reached up and cupped her cheek, fingers trembling just a little — an emotion cracking through the cracks of his usual control. "Now, I would raze the world just to keep your name safe."
She leaned down, kissed him — not out of heat, not even out of guilt. Out of the aching pull in her chest that said you belong to him now, whether you want to or not.
Their kiss deepened slowly, mouths molding, breaths tangled. He pulled her under him gently this time, no rough desperation, just heat and gravity. Her fingers slid through his hair, and his hand found her thigh, pulling her closer as if trying to memorize the shape of her skin.
But her mind was split — part of her in his arms, part still lingering on the USB hidden away. The secrets inside it could shatter everything. She didn't want to look. But she would. She had to.
Afterward, they lay quiet, their limbs a tangle, her head on his chest as his heartbeat slowed.
He spoke into her hair. "You've changed."
"So have you," she whispered back.
"I was never soft before you."
She smiled faintly. "You're not soft. You're steel with a flame underneath."
His grip tightened. "Don't look for the fire, Rose. It burns everyone."
She didn't answer. Because she was already on fire. And she didn't know if she'd survive the burn or become part of it.
Just as her eyes began to close, his phone buzzed once on the nightstand. One message. Silvio tensed but didn't move.
"You can check it," she murmured.
He shook his head. "Not tonight."
But her eyes had caught something before the screen dimmed: a single name.
Moore.
A fresh chill rippled through her.