Chapter 30 Thirty
Salvatore stood outside Mira’s door for a few seconds after it closed behind him.
Still.
One hand resting loosely in his pocket. The other flexing once at his side. Inside the room, he could hear faint movement.
The creak of the bed. Mira's footsteps.
His jaw tightened slightly at the thought of what she might be doing. He stood there for a second longer then he walked away.
His expression changed almost instantly the moment he was out of the hall leading to her room.
The softness disappeared.
The calmness too.
A dark cold smile tugged on his lips
Antonio was already waiting near the staircase.
Of course he was. His Salvatore shadow. The man barely blinked half the time.
“She’s fine?” Antonio asked quietly.
Salvatore kept walking without giving him a glance.
“She twisted her ankle.”
Antonio fell into step beside him. Neither spoke again for a few moments.
The mansion was silent at this hour. Only the low lights along the walls remained on, casting long shadows across the floor.
Salvatore’s mind wasn’t on the hallway.
It was on her. The fear in her eyes tonight.
The way she nearly collapsed trying to run from something or someone. The way she shook on his arm.
His tongue pressed lightly against the inside of his cheek.
Interesting. This was intriguing to him.
“She went to the west wing,” Antonio said carefully.
Not as a question but a statement.
Salvatore’s expression didn’t change.
“I know.”
Antonio glanced at him briefly.
“She could’ve gotten hurt. That would have been risky.”
A pause.
Then Salvatore stopped and turned to face him his eyes cold. “She did get hurt. Nothing she can't r cover from.”
Antonio stayed quiet after that.
Because he knew better than to push.
They reached Salvatore’s office.
The large doors opened.
Dark wood. Dim lighting.
Salvatore stepped inside first. Antonio remained near the entrance.
Scanning the area to make sure no one was following. By no one he meant Mira
Salvatore walked toward the desk slowly, loosening the cuffs of his sleeves.
His eyes dropped briefly toward the phone resting there.
The screen is dark.
A smile tugged on his lips again. He had used a bumper phone to send Mira a text to test her and waited to see what she was going to do.
A slow silence stretched through the room.
Then—
“She looked terrified,” Antonio said carefully.
That made Salvatore finally look up.
“And?” he asked nonchalantly
Antonio hesitated slightly.
“She was panicking seriously. “
Salvatore’s gaze rested on him for a second longer.
Unreadable. Then he looked away again.
His fingers tapped once against the desk.
“Fear shows what is hidden beneath whatever mask people wear,” he said quietly.” And besides, she has tough skin. This didn't shake her trust in me.”
Antonio didn’t respond immediately.
The answer clearly wasn’t the one he expected.
Salvatore’s eyes lowered again.
This time toward the faint scratch marks across his hand.
Tiny. Almost invisible. Like he had been cut by a broken glass.
His expression darkened slightly.
“She went inside,” he murmured. “Despite the fear. Despite every instinct telling her not to. She went inside anyway.”
A small smirk touched the corner of his mouth.
“She doesn’t listen… “
Antonio crossed his arms slightly.
“You sound impressed.”
Another silence.
Then Salvatore leaned back slowly in his chair.
His gaze drifted toward the dark window behind the desk. Black night staring back at him.
“It's been a while since I had this much fun” he said softly.” Dont be such a killjoy and ruin it. I want to see how far she can go.. To catch me. Eventually, she’ll find something she shouldn’t.”
Antonio watched him carefully now.
“And what happens when she does?”
That question lingered in the room.
Heavy.
Salvatore didn’t answer immediately.
His mind flashed briefly— Mira trembling in his arms.
Her fingers are clutching his shirt. Her head was resting against his shoulder without realizing it.
Trusting him for one small second.
Dangerous. Very dangerous and careless of her.
His jaw tightened slightly.
Then finally he spoke.. Coldly.
“We’ll deal with it.”
Antonio nodded once. No more questions after that.
He already knew the conversation was over.
Salvatore’s gaze shifted back toward the desk.
Toward the second phone resting beside a stack of files.
A different phone. One with no saved contacts.
No names. Just numbers.
His eyes lingered on it for a second too long.
Then slowly— He picked it up.
The screen lit briefly.
One message thread is still open.
Unknown Number.
His thumb hovered over it.
Then the screen went dark again as he locked it.
Then he murmured
“Let's see how long you can keep up the act Reporter Voss.”
The next morning came quietly.
Sunlight slipped through the tall windows of the mansion, painting soft gold across the dark hallways. Most of the staff were already awake, moving carefully through the house like ghosts. But it was a good day for Salvatore Corvin. A day to mess with Mira.
Salvatore was in the kitchen which rarely happens during the day except at night when he went on a killing spree.. Hunting for animals… for the smell of blood to calm him down.
One of the maids nearly dropped a plate when she walked in and saw him standing there rolling up the sleeves of his black shirt.
“Sir—” she started nervously.
“You may leave,” he said calmly.
She didn’t argue… didn't dare to offer help. The kitchen fell silent again after she rushed out.
Salvatore glanced down at the pan in front of him. Eggs. Toast. Coffee.
Simple breakfast menu.
His mouth curved slightly..
He hadn’t made breakfast for anyone in years.
Yet here he was.
Because for some reason… the thought of Mira waking up sore, confused, and suspicious amused him more than it should.
Especially after last night.
The fear in her eyes.
And then… the way she melted against him afterward without realizing it.
A dark smile tugged at his lips.
“Careless little thing,” he murmured.
He plated the food neatly before grabbing the tray.
Coffee. Toast. Eggs. Fruit.
Normal.
Like this was some ordinary morning. Like he wasn’t the same man who had terrified her half to death hours ago.
Salvatore walked through the mansion calmly, the tray balanced easily in one hand. A few workers lowered their heads as he passed.
Nobody questioned it.
Nobody dared offer to help.
By the time he reached Mira’s door, the cold smile on his face had faded into something softer.
His fake mask.
He knocked once.
No answer.
A second knock.
Still nothing.