Chapter 53 Rendezvous

Chapter 53 Rendezvous
Lucia’s POV

I stand in front of the mirror longer than I need to.

Not because I don’t know how I look, but because I am trying to settle the feeling in my chest that has been there since morning. The kind of feeling that doesn’t have a name yet, but sits quietly and refuses to leave.

Behind me, Dante is already moving around the room.

Not rushed.

Never rushed.

Just precise.

He is giving instructions the same way he always does when something matters—calm voice, controlled tone, like everything has already been calculated and the only thing left is for me to follow it correctly.

“Remember what we practiced,” he says.

I nod slightly, adjusting the sleeve of my outfit without looking at him fully. “I remember.”

He steps closer behind me, his reflection appearing in the mirror next to mine.

“Do you have a gun?” he asks.

“Yes,” I answer immediately.

His eyes flick briefly to mine in the mirror. “Where is it?”

“Strapped to my thigh.”

He nods once, like that is exactly the answer he expected.

“Good.”

Just that.

No extra words.

No unnecessary concern.

But somehow it still feels like attention.

He moves first, and I follow him out of the room.

The hallway feels quieter than usual, like even the house understands that something is about to happen outside its walls. Alex and Enzo are already waiting downstairs, dressed and alert in a way that makes it clear this is not a normal outing.

They fall in step behind me as we move toward the car.

Dante walks slightly ahead, not turning back, but I can feel him guiding the pace anyway.

When we reach the entrance, I pause briefly as I adjust the strap of my bag.

“Wait,” Dante says suddenly.

I stop immediately.

So do Alex and Enzo.

He turns toward me, and for a second, I think he is going to repeat something about the plan or give another instruction.

But instead, he walks closer.

His hand comes up, and I feel something cold touch my neck.

I look down slightly.

A necklace.

Simple, but not ordinary.

I look up at him in confusion.

His fingers linger for a moment longer than necessary as he secures it properly behind my neck.

“If you press the button behind it,” he says quietly, “the entire security force will locate you immediately.”

I don’t move. I just watched him.

“You are to keep it on at all times,” he adds.

There is something in his tone that doesn’t feel like instruction alone.

It feels like insistence.

Like, he is not giving me an option.

I nod slowly. “Okay.”

He holds my gaze for a second longer than he should.

Then he steps back.

“Let’s go.”

We move again.

This time, I walk toward the car feeling the weight of the necklace against my skin in a way that feels heavier than metal should feel.

Alex opens the door for me.

I slide in.

Enzo follows.

The door closes.

And just like that, the world outside becomes something we are moving away from.

I look out the window as the car starts to move, the gates opening slowly in front of us.

And for some reason, I can’t stop thinking about the necklace.

Not because it is useful.

Not because it is protective.

But because Dante didn’t have to put it on me himself.

And he did anyway.

The moment I step into the room, I already understand what kind of man Casteelo is.

Not from how he looks at me—men like him always look.

But from how he smiles.

Like he already knows something I don’t.

Alex and Enzo stay slightly behind me, positioned like shadows that are meant to remind everyone in this room that I am not alone. I feel their presence, steady and familiar, but I don’t lean on it.

Not today.

Today, I stand on my own.

Casteelo rises slowly from his seat, eyes fixed on me as though I am something he has been expecting for a long time.

“Mrs. Vitale,” he says, like the name tastes interesting on his tongue.

I don’t smile back.

I simply take my seat across from him.

“Mr. Casteelo,” I reply evenly.

A faint smirk appears on his face. “I was hoping Dante would come himself.”

“Then you should have asked him,” I say calmly. “But you didn’t. You asked for me.”

That makes him pause just slightly.

Good.

I lean back in my chair, crossing one leg over the other. “So let’s not waste time pretending this is anything other than what it is.”

His smile deepens a little. “Straight to business. I like that.”

“I’m not here for your approval,” I say.

There is a brief silence after that.

Not uncomfortable.

Measuring.

He studies me for a moment before speaking again. “You’ve changed.”

“I’ve grown,” I correct him.

A soft laugh leaves him. “Same thing, in different clothing.”

I tilt my head slightly. “No. One is survival. The other is observation.”

That earns a flicker of interest in his eyes.

He leans forward slightly now. “Tell me, Lucia… do you enjoy being Dante Vitale’s wife?”

The question is deliberate. I don’t react immediately. Instead, I let the silence sit just long enough for him to feel it. Then I answer.

“Yes.”

“And why is that?” he asks.

I don’t even hesitate this time.

“Because I am not someone who belongs to confusion,” I say. “I belong to clarity. And my husband gives me that.”

Something shifts in his expression at that. Just slightly. But I notice.

He wasn’t expecting that tone.

He leans back again, studying me like I am no longer just a meeting participant, but a variable he didn’t calculate properly.

“So you defend him,” he says.

“I state facts,” I reply. “There’s a difference.”

His gaze sharpens slightly. “Facts can be flexible in this world.”

“Then you’re speaking to the wrong person,” I say calmly. “Because I don’t deal in flexible loyalties.”

A pause.

Then he smiles again—but this time it is slower.

More careful.

“Let’s talk about him, then,” he says.

I don’t like the shift in tone, but I don’t show it.

“What about my husband?”