Chapter 18: A Dangerous Agreement
POV: Stefano
"I don't know; I was just curious. I wanted to know what a person like you could hide behind a locked door," she replied, giving up on avoiding eye contact with me as I stared at her. Each of her gestures showed me that she was becoming increasingly restless. Why couldn't Beatrice be a normal woman, a woman I was used to? Why did I continue that stupid kiss when I realized what it was all about?
"And what did you imagine someone like me could hide in my room?" I asked, keeping calm and carefully disguising any reaction the photo might provoke in me, while Beatrice still looked lost, thanks to my touch. Did she like my taste too? "A collection of weapons? A wall full of compromising photos of my adversaries? Detailed records of my business transactions? Or perhaps a table full of the heaviest drugs?" I asked, my eyes watching each of her reactions. She wasn't the least bit surprised, probably aware that I was capable of much worse. "Did you think I'd have several human limbs scattered around my room as trophies for everyone I've ever killed?" My voice held a calculated calm as I continued to watch her, looking for any sign of weakness or surprise on her impassive face. "Because I could have any of them if it wasn't so damaging to business, to my reputation, and my fucking safety."
"I'm not naive, and I know you're capable of things that most people wouldn't dream of, but don't think you could convince me that you're as indifferent as you appear to be. Why do you always pretend not to care about anything? Who is that woman, and why do you seem to care about her?" Beatrice retorted, her words cutting through the silence that had set in like a sharp knife for me, which still left marks all over my skin. Her eyes were as bright as ever, while her lips remained firm, the corners downturned. I wasn't used to being questioned like this, least of all by a woman like Beatrice, who was direct, nosy, and curious. I should have scolded her, but instead, her assumption made me laugh, a cold laugh without any emotion, the flashes of my 18th birthday vivid in my memory.
"Honestly, Beatrice, you couldn't be more pathetic," I said against her cheek.
"What happened between you and her, Stefano?" She asked, prodding me, still trying to get something out of me.
"Since you want to know so much, Beatrice, I'll tell you. A shot to the hand, a shot to the left side of the chest, and a shot to the head. I killed her, leaving her lying in that filth in the middle of a disturbing place. She was on her knees, begging for mercy, and yet her death was neither quick nor painless, as I watched her slowly succumb."
Beatrice was momentarily stunned by my response, absorbing the cruelty of my words. A heavy silence hung over us for a moment before she finally asked in a low, almost whispering voice, "Why, Stefano?"
Because I needed to show that I had no weakness, that I could be rigid against anyone, that in our position, we couldn't show mercy, and that being a don was a cruel game. That night, my father made me prove that I was worthy of my surname, that I could make difficult decisions, and that there was no place for sentiment or forgiveness in our dark world. All of this was what I should have answered to the eyes desperate for an explanation in front of me, that was the purest truth, but instead, I turned away from Beatrice, running away from the whole hurricane that she was, throwing the ball of paper I had created into the trash in the corner of the space.
"Because that's exactly who I am, whether you accept it or not." I watched the impact of my words on Beatrice and the tense silence that followed again. The girl, visibly shaken by the words I had just said, looked at the floor for a moment before raising her eyes to face me.
"Why don't you let me go, knowing that you're like this? Why don't you leave me and my son, not our son, alone once again? We were doing very well together without you getting in the way." In her eyes, when she finally answered, I could see a mixture of exhaustion and fury, but also an unshakable belief in her own theory. She wasn't judging me just because she believed I could be someone different, even though that seemed totally impossible.
For a moment, the air felt heavy, as if it was about to unleash a storm of emotions. I still stood firm, but I knew that my features had become even more icy, with the darkness of my eyes reflecting the emptiness of my feelings as if I were plunged even deeper into the abyss of my world.
"Because I'm selfish enough not to." My tone was low and lacked any warmth, unlike a few seconds ago, when my mouth was on her. We only understood each other in bed.
"Five months." She said to me, "I promise to go wherever you want, I promise to make it easy for your silly little game... Make me want to be yours... but if you don't get it within that time, I'll leave with Davide, if you don't get it, Stefano, I want my freedom." Beatrice stood in front of me, wanting to negotiate with me, the owner of the mafia, the man who wasn't used to negotiating even with his enemies.
"What makes you think I'd accept anything from you?"
"Because that's what you want, you want to prove to me that you won't be mediocre by winning me over, so I know you won't think twice, because your self-centeredness is incapable of allowing someone like me to be sure that you can't do it. Come on, Stefano, I'm ready to play, are you going to back down like a coward?"