66
I stared at Gosto, lips parted, heart splintering in slow, silent agony. He wouldn’t look at me. His eyes turned toward the window instead, avoiding mine like I was something he couldn’t bear to see.
“You’re seriously going to pull the whole ‘I’m incapable of love’ line on me?” I said, my voice low and sharp, nearly a hiss.
His jaw clenched. When he finally looked at me, his irises burned not with anger, but with something buried deeper. The fire inside him wasn’t meant for me, yet it scorched just the same.
He inhaled deeply, letting that blaze die out in his gaze. “I never said that,” he replied, his voice laced in frost.
I choked on my breath. “So, it’s about me, then?” A dry laugh escaped before I could stop it. “Am I just... not your type? Or is it that I’m simply not enough?” My voice barely lifted above a whisper.
He cursed under his breath and raked his fingers through his hair, the motion desperate. “It’s not personal. I just...” He faltered, swallowing hard. “Let’s say loving you would’ve interfered with my revenge in ways I can’t afford.”
And yet, he'd said never as if even the idea of loving me was unimaginable.
I said nothing. I didn’t want to press further, didn’t want to beg for scraps of affection. That would only humiliate me more than I already felt.
He straightened, cleared his throat as if resetting himself.
“You’ll still pretend to be my fiancée. It’s the safest role you can play right now. But I’ll make sure to avoid any situation that would require us to appear together in public.” His tone was clipped, emotionless. “If being around me is too much, I’ll keep my distance. You just say the word.”
I swallowed hard, fists clenched at my sides. “That won’t be necessary.” My voice felt like it belonged to someone else.
His sigh came like a release, and it almost hurt more than his words. “You’ll have everything you need, Domitilla,” he said, his gaze locking with mine. “Protection, wealth whatever you want. When I become king, you’ll be free to live wherever you like. In luxury.”
Still, I said nothing. Just stared, breathing slow and shallow, trying to keep the tears at bay. It was cruel, really. The only thing I ever wanted from him was his heart yet that was the one thing he’d never offer. The ache behind my eyes was unbearable, but I dug my nails into my palms, welcoming the sting. I wouldn’t let him see me break.
Maybe I nodded. I wasn’t sure. He turned and left, and with his exit came a strange new silence. Not heartbreak. Not rage. Just numbness.
I couldn’t recall how I made it through the morning. I think I ate. I think I sat at the window for hours, watching nothing in particular. I think I preferred the anger. At least anger had shape. I could’ve painted Gosto as the villain, the heartless manipulator. That would’ve been easier than accepting the truth that I’d been discarded. Used.
Eventually, the walls felt like they were closing in. I needed air, movement something to remind me I still existed. I opened the door and nearly collided with a solid chest.
Fosco. He stood with one hand raised, about to knock, and a smirk playing on his lips.
“Going somewhere?” he asked.
I blinked. It was the first time I’d seen him out of a suit. He still wore his signature black slacks, but his upper half was dressed in a fitted black tee, clinging to the shape of his chest and revealing the faint ridges of a sculpted abdomen. Thoughts I shouldn’t be having crept in but I shoved them away.
I stepped back, narrowing my eyes. “What are you doing here?”
He shrugged. “I’m your new bodyguard.”
I crossed my arms. “What happened to the old one? Where’s Leandro ?”
“Too risky for him to stay near you now.”
My brow arched. “So what you think I’m going to accidentally hurt my bodyguard?”
A slow, dangerous grin spread across his face. “Leandro isn’t strong enough to stop you if something happens. I, however... can handle you.”
A wave of heat rushed to my face. I turned sharply and headed for the stairs.
Fosco followed, footsteps echoing two paces behind.
“You plan on shadowing me all day, or are you just trying to be irritating?” I snapped without looking back.
“I like to think of it as keeping you company.”
I groaned. “I don’t need a babysitter.”
“I know.”
I glanced over my shoulder. “Do you think I’m in danger?”
He chuckled. “This is the safest place in the entire Underworld.”
Still, the walls didn’t feel safe. Neither did my thoughts. I stepped into the garden, crossing through the hedge gate and wandering into the flowering labyrinth.
“Why are you doing this, Fosco?” I asked, casting a glance back at him.
He reached for my hand and brought me to a halt.
“Because you shouldn’t be alone right now.”
A hollow laugh escaped me. “Because you’re worried my volatile emotions might cause another explosion?”
He shook his head, something softer in his gaze. “No. Because I know what he said to you. And I thought maybe... you could use a friend. One who knows what that kind of pain feels like.”
Before I knew it, I was in his arms. He held me gently, stroking my hair as I fell apart against him. My arms wound around his waist, my cheek pressed to his chest, soaking his shirt with my tears.
I didn’t know how long I cried. I only knew that once the flood slowed, I was mortified.
“Better?” he asked, lips curled into a smirk as he took my hand and led me farther into the garden.
I nodded, my smile uncertain. We reached a bench by the fountain. The sight of it chilled me it was the same place I’d spoken to the hooded man who warned me about Sibilla Island.
“How secure is this place, really?” I asked, glancing around. “Could someone sneak past the guards into this garden?”
Fosco sat beside me and shook his head. “Practically impossible. Our warriors are stationed throughout Santini territory. No outsider gets in unnoticed. The only other way is through the tunnels, and only Gosto can open those.”
A fresh shiver ran down my spine.
What if the hooded man had been one of their warriors? If he was... he could be nearby. Watching.
I debated telling Fosco about him. About the messages. About the unease crawling under my skin. But then I remembered the way he’d held me just minutes ago gentle, steady and I changed the subject.
“Sorry for ruining your shirt,” I murmured with a small, crooked smile.
He chuckled. “It’ll dry. You needed it.”
I studied him, curious now. “Earlier... you said you understood. That you’d been through something like this. What did you mean?”
He exhaled, running his fingers through his dark hair. “I was in love, once.”
My mouth fell open. “You?”
He laughed. “Don’t look so shocked. I do have a heart. I just don’t use it often.”
“I’m sorry,” I said quietly. “After what Gosto told me today, I guess... I forgot others could feel this way too.”
Fosco took my hand and smiled genuinely. For a moment, his usual armor dropped, and I saw something raw and unguarded in his expression.
“I knew I was a rebound,” he said softly. “Still, I fell for her anyway. Thought maybe... maybe if I risked telling her, it would matter. But when I did, she rejected me. Coldly. Said her heart would always belong to someone else. That the only reason she ever slept with me was because I was close to Gosto.”
My hand flew to my mouth. I didn’t need him to name her I already knew.
Fosco’s smile was bitter, crooked.
“Yes,” he said. “The woman I loved... was Sibilla.”