Chapter 37 CHAPTER 37

Chapter 37 CHAPTER 37
The silence in the grand ballroom was so dense it felt like it could shatter. I stood paralyzed, the cold, unforgiving steel of Michelle’s revolver biting into the skin of my jaw. My breath came in shallow, jagged hitches that rattled in my chest.

Andrea stood a few feet away, his face a sculpture of agony and repressed violence. I looked into his storm-grey eyes and saw a void. In that moment, a sickening realization washed over me: he wouldn’t move.

He couldn’t. To save me was to lose his kingdom, and for a Luigi, the crown always came before the heart.

Our Father, who art in heaven… I began to whisper internally, the words of a prayer I hadn't spoken in years tumbling through my mind. Forgive me for the red lace and the smoky clubs. Forgive me for the lies. Just let it be quick.

Michelle's laughter was a jagged shard of glass cutting through the air. "Look at her! She’s praying! How quaint. A whore seeking absolution before she paints my masterpiece." Her finger tightened on the trigger, the mechanical click echoing like a thunderclap. "Paint the walls red, it is!"

"Wait!" Andrea’s voice exploded, raw and desperate, vibrating through the floorboards. "What is it you want, Michelle? Name your price. Anything. Just let Emilia go."

Michelle paused, her head tilting with a terrifying, bird-like curiosity. A slow, satisfied smile spread across her face, pulling the skin tight over her cheekbones. "I knew you weren’t stupid, Andrea. I’ve never needed much. I don't want your money or your villas."

Her voice dropped to a hiss near my ear. "All I want is the satisfaction of being the one to kill her."

"Is this about the engagement?" Andrea asked, his voice suddenly shifting, softening into a velvet caress that made my skin crawl. "Is that what you need? Validation? I’ll announce it to the whole world, Michelle Tonight. We’ll tell the council, the families... the press. We are engaged, if that is what you want."

The tension in Michelle’s arm wavered. Her manic energy seemed to leak out of her, replaced by a fragile, yearning hope. "You... you will? You’ll tell them I’m the one?"

"Yes," Andrea answered, stepping forward an inch, his eyes locked on hers with a hypnotic intensity. "I will. You were always the one meant to stand beside me, Michelle. This... this was a mistake. A distraction. Come back to me."

Her grip loosened, eyes melted, the predatory fire dying into a soft, pathetic glow. "Andrea..."

In that split second of vulnerability, the air shifted. One of Andrea’s men blurred from the shadows, a silent predator. He lunged, his weight slamming into Michelle and tearing her away from me.

"No!" Andrea barked, but it wasn't a command to stop the assault, it was a command for precision.

The guards rough-handled her, pinning her arms back. Michelle screamed, a sound of absolute betrayal. Andrea moved with lethal grace, stepping into her space.

He didn't strike her. Instead, he pressed a small, sleek tranquilizer pen to the side of her neck.

Michelle's scream died in her throat. Her eyes rolled back, her body going limp as she lolled forward, sedated instantly.

"Take her to the lower chambers," Vindiego ordered, his voice cold and transactional. "I’ll have the boys start the interrogation. We need to know who helped her get that weapon past security."

"No," Andrea said, his voice hard as flint as he looked down at Michelle's unconscious form. "She stays in the chambers, but she is not to be touched. No torture, Vindiego. That is my order."

Vindiego’s eyes narrowed. "She tried to execute your wife in the middle of my banquet hall, Luigi. Blood demands blood."

"She was my fiancée," Andrea retorted. "She’s broken, not a spy. Let her sleep it off. We deal with her when she’s lucid. Do not argue with me on this."

Vindiego grunted, a sound of pure dissatisfaction, but he gave a sharp nod to his men. They dragged Michelle’s dragging feet across the marble and out of the hall.

I stood there, trembling so violently my teeth were chattering. Andrea didn't say a word. He didn't ask if I was okay. He simply grabbed my upper armz not with the gentleness of a husband, but with the firm grip of an owner and led me through the silent, staring crowd, up the grand staircase, and back to the room.

The moment the heavy oak door clicked shut, the silence became a scream. I didn't wait for him to speak. I headed straight for the closet, pulling out the small suitcase Rosa had given me.

"What the hell are you doing?" Andrea’s voice was a low, dangerous hum.

"Packing," I spat, my hands shaking as I shoved a silk dress into the bag. "I’m leaving. I’m done. You can do whatever you want with the debt. Kill me, sell me back to your brother, I don't care. But I am not staying here to be a target for your psychotic ex-girlfriend."

"Emilia, stop," he said, walking toward me. "You’re in shock. You aren't going anywhere."

"I will not be the reason someone's life, or relationship, gets destroyed!" I turned on him, clutching a pair of heels like a weapon. "She tried to kill me because of you! You used me as leverage against Michelle just like you use me against your brother. I’m a person, Andrea! Not a chess piece!"

"I told you, you're a Luigi now," he said calmly, standing between me and the door. "That name protects you."

"That name almost got my brains blown out three minutes ago!" I tried to push past him toward the door, but he didn't budge. "Let me out, Andrea."

"No."

I slammed my hands against his chest, then turned to hit the door with my fist. "Open this door! Let me go!"

"Careful, dolcezza," he whispered, leaning down so his breath fanned my ear. "If you keep hitting the wood like that, the guards in the hall might think I’m banging you against the wall."

"Ugh! You're disgusting!" I recoiled, my eyes stinging with fresh tears of rage. "You should have just let Michelle kill me! Why did you save me? Why try to act the hero you are not? You don't care about me!"

Andrea’s composure finally snapped. He stepped into my space, pinning me against the door, his hands slamming into the wood on either side of my head. The air between us was electric, thick with a sudden, violent heat.

"You think that I really wanted to save you?" he exploded, his grey eyes turning into a dark, stormy charcoal. "You think I haven't been cursing the day I ever saw you in that club? I could have let her pull the trigger. It would have solved a dozen of my problems in one go!"

"Then why didn't you?" I mocked, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Was the paperwork for a dead wife too much for your busy schedule?"

"Because you have just gotten into my skin and inked yourself there!" he roared, his face inches from mine.

I froze. The sarcasm died in my throat.

"What won't I do for you, Emilia?" he whispered, his voice dropping to a dangerous, raw vibration. "What would you open your pretty little mouth to say that I won't serve you on a platter of gold? I can't help it. You were supposed to be a duty. A contract. A way to hurt my brother." He leaned closer, his lips almost brushing mine. "But you have successfully gotten into my skin, Emilia. You’re like a fever I can't break."

"Then get me out of your skin," I breathed, my heart drumming a frantic rhythm against my ribs. "Cut me out. Let me go."

"You think I haven't tried?" He let out a harsh, broken laugh. "You think I haven't struggled to find a way to hate you? To see you as just another stripper? But you're my fucking obsession, Emilia. And since I cannot get you out of my system..." He trailed off, his gaze dropping to my lips. "It's time I started the chase."

My breath hitched. "What... what do you..."

"I'm about to kiss you so fucking senseless that your lips will swell," Andrea warned, his voice a low, predatory growl. "Say no and walk away right now, Emilia. Else, there is no turning back."

I wanted to say no. I wanted to scream at him, to push him away, to run until my feet bled. But the pull was too much. It was a magnetic, tidal force dragging me back toward the center of his storm. I didn't realize I was leaning in until I felt the heat of his skin.

Then he kissed me.

It wasn't a soft plea for forgiveness. It was ravaging, possessive, and wild. It tasted of expensive scotch and desperation. His tongue invaded my mouth, claiming me with a ferocity that made my knees buckle. I let out a soft, broken moan, my fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as the world outside the room ceased to exist.

He groaned into my mouth, his hands sliding down to my thighs, hooking my legs around his waist as he lifted me effortlessly. He began to carry me toward the bed, his lips never leaving mine, the suitcase forgotten on the floor.

Suddenly, the heavy oak door burst open with a thud that echoed like a gunshot.

We jerked apart, my feet hitting the floor as I scrambled to adjust my dress, my face burning with a mix of shame and adrenaline.

Lucas stood in the doorway, his face pale, his chest heaving as if he had run the length of the estate.

"Sir Luigi," Lucas gasped, his eyes darted between us in panic. "Michelle... she’s gone. She’s escaped.”