CHAPTER 9 FIGURE IT OUT BY YOURSELF

"What the hell is this?" His fingers brushed over a row of delicate fake roses, all neatly arranged. He picked one up, turning it over like it held some kind of hidden meaning.

I sighed. "Open the second compartment."

He hesitated but did as I said. The small hidden fridge hummed softly as it revealed rows of neatly stored vials, syringes, and medical supplies. When you worked in this line of business, you had to be prepared. Hospitals weren't an option.

Antonio exhaled sharply, tilting his head slightly. "You've got a fucking pharmacy in here," he muttered, his tone a mix of disbelief and something else—something closer to amusement.

"One of my friends built it," I explained casually. "Needed a way to store meds without raising suspicion."

I could feel his eyes on me, the weight of his thoughts pressing down, trying to fit the pieces of me into a puzzle that refused to be solved.

I could feel Antonio's eyes on me, trying to piece things together.

I knew I couldn't hide forever. At least, not now.

And honestly? Letting him figure it out on his own was more fun.

Antonio stepped in front of me, holding the syringe.

I looked away, my jaw tightening.

For fuck's sake, I hate needles… Readers, please, everyone's got a weakness.

The sharp sting barely lasted a second, but I still clenched my fists as if I could will myself not to react.

"Alright, it's nearly done," Luca said, too amused for my liking. "Ready for some rum?"

"Yeah—"

Before I could even finish, he dumped it onto my open wound.

"Oh, motherfucker—" I hissed, biting down on my lip as fire spread through my skin. My muscles tensed, my eyes stinging, but I refused to let the tears fall.

Luca laughed, satisfied with his handiwork. "All done."

I exhaled sharply, still shivering from the pain and exhaustion pressing down on me. My body had taken a beating all week, and I could feel the weight of it in my bones.

"Can you put my shoulder back in as well?" I asked, forcing my voice to stay steady.

Luca frowned. "What do you mean?"

I moved my arm slightly, feeling the unnatural shift of the joint. "It's out of the socket," I muttered.

Antonio's expression darkened. "And you didn't think to mention that earlier?"

Luca looked at me like I'd grown another head. "You're telling me you've been walking around like this?"

I shrugged. "I'm used to it. Can you do it, or do I need to call someone?"

Antonio didn't give Luca a chance to respond. He stepped behind me, his presence looming like a shadow.

"Luca, go out."

Luca hesitated for a second, glancing between us, but then nodded and walked out without another word.

"Take your shirt off," Antonio said.

I turned my head slightly, raising an eyebrow. "You could at least buy me dinner first."

He didn't rise to the bait, just stood there, waiting.

With a sigh, I pulled my shirt off, letting it slide down my arms. The air hit my skin, sending a chill down my spine. I could feel his eyes on me—tracing the scars that littered my back like a map of old wounds.

For the first time in a long time, I felt bare. Not because of the lack of clothing, but because of the way he was looking at me.

His fingers brushed against my shoulder. "You got a tattoo," he murmured, more to himself than to me.

I shivered at the unexpected touch. This man...

"Can you do it or not?" I said, my voice coming out a little sharper than I intended.

His hands tightened around my shoulder. His grip was firm, strong, but not rough.

"You drive me crazy, Sera," he muttered.

Before I could snap back, he moved—fast and precise.

A sharp pop. A jolt of pain. Then relief.

I let out a shaky breath, my body sagging slightly.

My head tilted back instinctively, resting against his body. He is so tall may be 6.2 feet nearly. I am so tiny Infront of him. I could feel his heartbeat—steady, controlled, but there was an edge to it, like he was holding something back.

He was warm.

Too warm.

I knew I should move, but for just a second, I let myself stay there.

And he didn't pull away.

After a few minutes, I stepped forward, the cold air wrapping around me like a second skin. I exhaled sharply, feeling the fatigue settle deep in my bones, then sank into the chair.

Reaching for the bottle, I finished off the rest of the alcohol, the burn doing little to distract me from the weight in my chest. My mind drifted back to the last vision I had of Antonio—he was covered in blood, and I was standing beside him, watching everything burn.

Should I tell him?

No.

He needed to go back to Italy. And I needed to finish what I started.

I let out a slow sigh, letting the thought settle in my mind when Antonio's voice broke through my haze.

"Shall I give you an offer?"

I lifted my gaze, slightly caught off guard. Even Luca looked surprised.

I smirked. "What is it?"

Antonio leaned against the table, his eyes locked onto mine with unnerving seriousness.

"Why don't you come to Italy with me?"

I froze, blinking at him. He wasn't joking. His expression was unreadable, but I could tell he meant every word.

A short laugh escaped me. "What, you don't have enough bitches to keep you entertained?"

The words slipped out before I could stop them, my usual defense mechanism kicking in. But the way his jaw tightened told me I had struck a nerve.

Antonio was many things—selfish, ruthless, entirely devoted to his empire. He didn't do things out of kindness. He never cared about anyone but himself.

So why the hell was he asking me to go with him?

Something about it felt… suspicious.

His lips pressed into a thin line, his expression cooling instantly. "You know what? Forget it."

He turned and walked away, without saying anything. The door shut behind him with a finality I didn't expect.

I exhaled through my nose, shaking my head when I caught Luca staring at me, amusement dancing in his eyes.

"What?" I muttered.

Luca let out a low chuckle. "I thought you were fire, but it turns out you're gasoline."

I didn't bother replying. Instead, I pushed myself up and made my way to bed, shutting out the world without a second thought.