Chapter 64 Chapter 64

Chapter 64 Chapter 64
\[ IRIS’S POV \]

"Good morning, Mr. Moretti," I said, my voice holding steady despite the hammering of my heart.

He moved closer, his footsteps silent on the expensive rug. He stopped just inches away, his cold, calculating gaze tracing every line of my face as if he were looking for a flaw in a piece of property he’d just acquired.

I looked from him to the memory of Salvatore’s face. The resemblance was striking, but the energy was different. Salvatore was a fire that could burn you, Vincenzo was the ice that would freeze you to death without a second thought.

What is the deal with this father and son? I wondered. They both looked at me with the same terrifying intensity, like I was the only variable in an equation they had already solved.

"You look like my wife," Vincenzo said, his voice a low rasp that made the hair on my arms stand up. No wonder my son is bent on making you his.”

“I’m not a replacement, Mr. Moretti.” I didn’t like the way he looked at me, as if he were measuring me against the dead.

“I’d never say you were,” he replied softly, his voice carrying a tone that made the air in the room feel stuffy.

He tilted his head, his cold eyes tracing the defiance in my expression. “Lorenzo is blind. He kept you hidden because he thought you were the calm one, the easy sister.” He took a step closer, his presence almost suffocating me. But I took my stance refusing to bend. “But he was wrong. You’re what I’d call a storm under the mountain, quiet, until you level everything in your path.”

"You can say that again, Father," Salvatore’s voice cut in from the doorway. He stepped into the room, his presence immediately shifting the gravity of the space. "Say that I have a good eye for gems. Admit it for once."

"Silly idiot," his father muttered, though there was a dark pride in his tone as he turned and walked toward the mountain of food.

Salvatore didn't go to the table. He walked straight to me. Before I could even blink, his arm was around my waist, dragging me flush against his hard chest. He used a single finger to hook under my chin, forcing my head back so I had no choice but to look at him.

He searched my eyes for a long moment, and I refused to be the one to break the contact. I stared back, letting the "storm" his father mentioned flicker in my expression.

"Rare gem," he murmured, his thumb brushing over my lower lip.

I put a hand against the steady thrum of his heart and pushed back slightly, trying to find some air. I wasn't his trophy, and I wasn't going to be handled like one in front of his family.

"Savvy!"

The girl who had walked in earlier suddenly squealed, charging toward us. She didn't just walk, she launched herself at him, her shoulder slamming into mine as she tried to jump into his arms. The force sent me stumbling sideways, my heels skidding on the rug. I nearly fell face-first onto the marble, but a strong hand of Michael’s, caught my arm, steadying me instantly.

I expected Salvatore to catch her, to laugh at her enthusiasm. Instead, he moved with a cold, surgical precision. He stepped out of her path entirely, letting her momentum carry her into empty air.

She didn't land in his arms. She hit the floor with a dull thud instead.

The room went deathly silent. Salvatore didn't even look down at her. His eyes remained fixed on me, checking to see if I was hurt, his face a mask of icy indifference toward the girl groaning at his feet.

"Are you okay?" Salvatore asked, his eyes on Michael’s hand still tight on my arm.

"Hmm," I hummed, my voice tight. I was fine, but the adrenaline was still humming in my veins.

On the floor, the girl scrambled to her knees, looking up at him with wide, watery eyes. "Savvy... are you not going to pull me up? To check if I’m hurt?"

Salvatore didn't even offer her a hand. He didn't even look down. "Push her away next time and see what I do to you," he said, his voice dropping to a deadly, razor-thin frequency. "Family or not."

The girl flinched as if he’d slapped her.

"Uhh, uh, uhh," Vincenzo cleared his throat, the sound like dry parchment rubbing together. He didn't look bothered by the cruelty, if anything, he looked bored.

"Hi," Michael said, leaning against the back of a chair and flashing me that infuriatingly bright grin. "Miss me?"

"You wish," I replied, rolling my eyes at him. He let out a low chuckle, clearly enjoying the friction.

I didn't wait for an invitation. I pulled out a chair, making sure to pick a spot that wasn't directly opposite Vincenzo’s burning, analytical eyes. Salvatore took the seat right beside me, claiming the space like a barrier. The girl who had fallen hurried to occupy the empty chair on his other side, though she kept a cautious distance from him now.

"Do you not even see me, Salvatore?"

The man who had entered earlier, the one I didn't recognize, finally spoke up. He was leaning back, watching the exchange with a sharp intensity.

"So what?" Salvatore replied, not even bothering to glance his way as he reached for a carafe of juice.

The man laughed, but the sound was empty, never quite reaching his eyes. "That’s no way to talk to your uncle, Salvatore."

Salvatore paused, his grip tightening on the glass. He turned his head slowly, his expression one of pure, unadulterated coldness. "Do I look like I care?"

"Yes, I know you don't, you rude little boy,”then he turned toward me. “Hi, Iris Russo. My name is Drake. I'm this idiot’s uncle, his father’s best friend and lawyer."

I blinked, my mind racing to connect the name. "Oh... this must be the 'Underworld Lawyer' I’ve heard about. The man who wins lawsuits that make others shake just at the mention of his name."

I looked at him, not even bothering to hide the shock in my voice. "You are... the Judas Drake?"

"Yes, I’m that Drake," he said, a slow, calculated smile spreading across his face. He gestured to the girl who had tried to bowl me over earlier. "And this is my daughter, Sandy."

"It’s nice meeting you," I said, with a genuine smile.

"Same here, Iris Russ….”

"Call her a Russo one more time and I will set you ablaze," Salvatore growled. I felt the air in the room go sour, his eyes were darker than I had ever seen them, flickering with a dangerous heat. He leaned forward, his hand slamming onto the table. "She’s Iris Moretti. My woman. Is that clear?"

The silence that followed was suffocating, broken only by the clink of a silver spoon against a plate. Then, Sandy spoke up, her voice trembling with a mix of confusion and rising fury.

"What? Salvatore, I thought you were done with the Russo family," she said, her words cutting through the quiet like a blade. "The plan was for you to get the deals, take half of their empire and that hidden treasure... and then you were supposed to marry me."

The entire table went dead silent.

I felt the blood drain from my face. I looked at Salvatore, but he didn't move. He didn't deny it. My heart, which had been starting to trust the protector who held me last night, felt like it was being squeezed in a cold, iron fist.

The deals. The empire. The hidden treasure. And a marriage contract that didn't include my name.

I turned my gaze to Vincenzo, who was calmly cutting into a piece of steak as if his son hadn't just been accused of using me as a stepping stone to a different altar.