Chapter 188

Chapter 188
Antonio remained in the living room, staring blankly at the wall as though it might offer some escape from the humiliation of the evening. He didn't even look up when one of his men entered, the sound of expensive Italian leather shoes clicking against marble floors echoing in the tense silence.

"Tell Amelia to pack some food for the guests to take home," he ordered, his voice hollow. "Make sure they know the celebration is canceled."

His eyes finally found mine, hardening instantly. "And I don't want to see her in my house again. Not after this."

I turned to leave, desperate to escape before anyone could see the conflicting emotions on my face.

"Beatrice." Dante's voice stopped me at the doorway.

"You did this because—"

"Because it was the right thing," I cut him off, lifting my chin defiantly.

The corner of Dante's mouth twitched slightly. "I was going to say, you did this because you knew what Franco would do to my business if he gained more power. You were protecting the family enterprise, whether you meant to or not."

Before I could respond, Amelia hurried toward us, her apron dusted with flour and a worried expression pinching her features. The smell of fresh-baked pastries clung to her clothes, a surreal contrast to the disaster of the evening.

"Mr. Vasquez, your father wants me to—"

"I know," Dante interrupted, his tone softening slightly. "Take care of it."

Salvatore appeared behind her, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. When our eyes met, electricity crackled between us, reminding me of our earlier encounter in his bedroom—his confession, my retreat. The memory of his lips so close to mine made my pulse quicken despite myself.

"I'll drive Beatrice home," Salvatore announced firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Amelia frowned, reaching into her apron pocket and producing a small container wrapped in a checkered cloth. "At least take this," she offered, holding it out to me. "I saved some cannoli for you."

Salvatore stepped between us, blocking her gesture. "She doesn't need your leftovers," he said coldly. "I'll make sure she gets home safely."

Amelia withdrew quickly, muttering something about food preparation.

"You didn't have to be so rude to her," I said once she was out of earshot. "She was just being nice."

Salvatore shrugged, his shoulders tight beneath his expensive suit jacket. "Let's go before my father decides to have security escort you out."

As we walked toward the exit, anxiety gripped me. The marble floors gleamed under the chandelier light, reminding me how out of place I was in this world of wealth and power. "Your father just banned me from his territory. Won't you get in trouble for helping me?"

Salvatore laughed, a short, bitter sound that echoed in the empty hallway. "My father can't touch me for seeing you. He can't hurt me or take away my position." His eyes darkened, shadows passing across his features. "It's different now. We all have our own territories."

I followed him silently to his car, uncomfortably aware that we'd once nearly become step-siblings when Antonio had pursued my mother.

Rain began to fall as Salvatore opened the passenger door for me, the gesture strangely gentlemanly from someone I'd once considered an enemy. As we pulled away from the mansion, tension filled the car like smoke.

"I want to thank you," he finally said, breaking the silence. "For what you did in there. Exposing Franco." His knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. "And I'm sorry for how I treated you before. When you first came to the mansion."

I stared at the raindrops racing across my window, watching as they collided and merged into larger streams.

"I used to be different," I said finally. "Before I met all of you. I was just a bird in a cage, protected by my mother from everything and everyone." I paused, feeling the weight of how much had changed. "Then I met you strangers, and suddenly I became this... other person. Greedy. Jealous. Hurting." My voice dropped to a whisper. "Every day I fight against the darkness that pulls at me."

Salvatore drove in silence, his profile sharp against the glow of passing streetlights. The wipers swept back and forth hypnotically, pushing away the rain that mirrored my confused thoughts. When we reached a narrow path, he pulled in and killed the engine. In the sudden quiet, he turned to face me.

"You know what I think?" His eyes searched mine intently, reflecting the distant streetlights. "I think the Beatrice you hate is the real you."

I flinched, but he continued, leaning closer.

"No one cares if you're good or bad as long as you're successful and powerful. That's the truth in our world." His voice was low, intense. "Look at my father. Look at Franco. They get what they want because they take it."

"I don't want to be that desperate person," I whispered, remembering the dark satisfaction I'd felt manipulating Franco. It had frightened me. "I don't want to be the person who would do anything for a partner. I don't want to be desperate for anyone's approval or love."

"You don't have to be like other good girls," Salvatore said, reaching across the console to take my hand. His touch sent warmth spiraling up my arm. "You can be yourself with me. We could be good together, Beatrice." His fingers tightened around mine, his palm warm and slightly calloused. "Everything would work out if you're with me."

The rain drummed harder on the roof, creating a cocoon of sound around us. His eyes held mine, dark and intense, waiting for my answer. For a moment, I was tempted to give in, to see where this connection between us might lead.