Chapter 13 Thirteen
Mira froze for a second.
Her grip on the bottle tightened.
The calm in his voice didn’t match the words he had just said.
It wouldn’t be by lacing your water.
Her chest tightened.
Her anger rose faster.
How dare he speak to her like.
She set the bottle down a little harder than she meant to.
“Is that a threat, Mr. Corvin?” she asked, trying to sound steady.. Her voice cold
Salvatore paused.
He looked at her properly this time.
Not a distracted kind or a half-focused look.
Their eyes held.
For a moment, the kitchen felt smaller. The air tensed.
Then he spoke.
“Do you feel threatened?” he asked.
A beat of silence passed
Then, almost casually…
“I was joking,” he said, turning back to the pot and lifting it off the heat.
Mira blinked.
Confused.
Shocked.
A joke?
That was supposed to be a joke?
Her jaw tightened.
“I do not appreciate my life being treated like a joke,” she said firmly. “It wasn’t funny.”
Silence followed.
Salvatore glanced at her again, then returned his attention to the stove like nothing important had been said.
“You don’t know how to take a joke then,” he said flatly.
That made it worse.
Mira sat still for a second, gripping the bottle tighter than necessary, fighting the very real urge to throw it straight at his head.
Instead, she exhaled through her nose.
“I’m about to make pasta,” he added, as if the conversation had naturally moved on. “Would you care for a plate?”
Mira stared at him.
Pasta.
At 2:30 a.m.
With him.
In a house that felt like it ghosts could pop up at any time.
Absolutely not.
“No, thank you,” she said quickly, already standing. “It’s really late. I’d like to head to my room now.”
She didn’t wait.
Didn’t give him a second to respond.
She turned and walked out fast, her steps sharper than before, like speed alone could shake off the uneasiness sitting in her chest.
Mira didn’t slow down until she was out of the kitchen... Even then, she kept walking.
As fast as she could.
Her heartbeat was still uneven.
Annoyance. Disbelief. A little bit of what the hell is wrong with that man? Filled her thoughts
She turned into the hallway that led back to the guest wing, the silence swallowing her steps again.
Mira exhaled sharply under her breath.
“Pasta at 2:30 a.m.,” she muttered. “Of course, he eats. A villain with a cooking hobby what a maniac.”
She shook her head once, trying to reset her thoughts.
A flush from her and whatever Salvatore Corvin was doing in that kitchen.
As she turned the corner leading to her room.
She stopped.
A faint sound came from somewhere deeper in the house.
Footsteps.
Mira went still.
Her hand instinctively lowered, her body tightening as she listened.
The footsteps stopped suddenly.
Then continued again, farther away.
She didn’t move for a second.
Just listened.
Nothing else followed.
No voice. Nothing
Just silence again.
Mira slowly exhaled.
“…I need sleep,” she whispered to herself.” It's been a really long day. I can't deal with one more craziness.”
Then she forced her legs to move again, walking way faster this time.
Because whatever this house was hiding…
She was not going to find it at 3 a.m. in a hallway where she could easily be dragged hidden and killed.
The morning came faster than Mira wanted.
But sleep?.
Sleep had not come easily.
Every time she closed her eyes, the same image flooded her mind—Salvatore standing in blood, knife in hand, calm like it was nothing.
Mira sat up in bed with a frustrated breath.
“That bastard even invaded my dreams,” she muttered. “How dare he?”
Suddenly a knock came at the door.
Mira didn't have to ask who it was she already knew who it was.
Antonio.
“Boss wants to see you,” he said from outside.“You have fifteen minutes to get ready.”
Mira stared at the door.
Rolling her eyes..
No good morning.
Just his asshole behavior
“Right,” she said under her breath.
She dragged herself out of bed, rubbing her face once as she looked down at her outfit from the night before.
Still the same clothes.
Still the same mess.. She still had to put on.
“Fantastic,” she muttered.
Before she could even fully process it, another knock came.
“Hello, Miss..Good morning.”A soft voice came from the door
Mira walked to the door and opened it carefully.
A maid stood there, head slightly bowed, holding several neatly arranged outfits.
“Master asked I deliver this to you,” she said quietly.
Mira blinked.
The amount of clothes almost made her take a step back.
Shirts, trousers, dresses, all folded perfectly, all clearly expensive.
She stared at them for a long moment.
“…Why did he have so many clothes sent to me?” she asked slowly.
The maid didn’t answer.
Just waited.
Mira frowned slightly, taking one step back.
“No,” she said finally, shaking her head. “I’m not wearing any of that.”
The maid hesitated.
“I was instructed—”
“I don’t care,” Mira cut in, already stepping back into her room. “Take it back.”
She shut the door.
Not gently.
A pause followed outside.
Then footsteps faded down the hallway.
Mira exhaled and turned away.
“Yeah,” she murmured. “Not wearing anything from that madman.”
The water hit her skin a second later—hot, comforting, almost too good for a house that felt so wrong.
For a moment, she just stood there under it.
Eyes closed.
Letting it run over her face.
Trying to wash off the night.
But her mind didn’t stop.
Salvatore’s voice.
His laugh.
The blood.
The knife.
And that calm way he spoke about death like it was nothing more than a passing thought.
Mira let out a slow breath.
“Focus,” she whispered to herself. “And get this bastard locked up for good.”
She finished quickly, drying off and pulling on the same clothes from the night before.
Not ideal.
But better than accepting anything from him.
When she stepped out of the bathroom, she caught her reflection in the mirror.
“Great start to the day,” she muttered.” Day two of hunting down Salvatore Corvin.”