Chapter 112 Trespasser
❦ Rosalind ❦
I took one step out of the room and almost plowed straight into Enza.
She was right there in the hallway, her hand frozen mid-air like she’d been about to knock. We both startled and grabbed each other to steady ourselves.
“The don was worried about you,” she said, a little breathless, after recovering. “He asked me to get you anything you want. Anything you need. He’ll be right back.”
Right back. My chest clenched.
“Where did he go?” I asked, hoping I didn’t sound as guilty as I felt.
Enza shook her head. “I don’t know. But it looked serious.”
Of course. Everything with him was serious.
I forced myself to take a deep breath.
I just had to pray and hope that he wouldn’t hear about the hotel before I told him myself.
Scratch that.
I was going to tell him. It was better for him to hear it from me than catch it anywhere else.
He would most probably murder me.
Decision made. No backing out.
“I, um…” I gestured weakly behind me at the room. “I spilled the food. I’m sorry.”
Enza actually tutted at me like an old auntie. “Don’t apologize. I’ll clean it up and bring you another.”
Her kindness pinched at my chest. I nodded, murmured a soft “thank you,” then slipped away down the hall as she pushed the door open.
Heat flushed up my neck and I ducked around the hallway, embarrassed.
Please don’t hate me after this, Enza. Please don’t go back to being the stiff, sharp woman who scowled every time I breathed too loud.
She’d been fussing over me since I got back, like I was her own child. I never thought I’d see the day.
But I couldn’t dwell on that now.
Focus on the mission. Viktor’s laptop.
I headed downstairs first, my bare feet light on the polished floor. A few soldiers milled about, those who lived in the house’s lower level.
They gave me polite nods and respectful greetings. I nodded back, pretending to be calm, though my stomach felt like stone.
The living room was spotless and neat.
Not a laptop in sight.
I turned on my heel, disappointed, and went back upstairs to his office. He had to keep it there. Please, God, don’t let it be locked.
When I reached the door, I hesitated. I looked sideways, scanning the hallway for witnesses like I was sneaking around in enemy territory.
And then I almost laughed at myself. I was his wife. His literal wife. I had every right to be here.
So I straightened my spine, turned the knob with confidence…
And it opened.
I slipped into Viktor’s office.
The place smelled faintly of leather, the mahogany gleaming and polished, and the bookshelves rose in precise order against the walls. Everything about the room screamed control. Discipline. Him.
I moved slowly, tracing the edge of the desk with my fingers. The surface was so smooth it almost startled me, like touching still water.
And then, because my brain couldn’t behave, a thought crept in, wicked and uninvited.
I’d like to be fucked on this table.
My throat tightened, heat blushing my skin.
I shook it off with a small, nervous laugh.
God. What was wrong with me? The man was going to want to strangle me when he found out I’d let the Grand Marlow slip through my fingers, and here I was listing after him.
Maybe his memory loss would soften the blow. Maybe it didn’t matter as much to him now, if he hadn’t even mentioned it once since we came back. That had to mean something. Right?
I crouched, tugging open drawers one by one. Empty. Pens, papers, nothing useful.
My reflection flickered on the glossy wood as I pushed the last drawer shut with a little too much force. No laptop.
I wandered toward the window instead, letting my gaze drift out to the compound below.
Soldiers moved about, giving the scenery a severe but safe feel.
And I realized with a little jolt that I liked it here.
I liked the strange comfort of belonging somewhere, even if it wasn’t fully mine.
But then came the guilt, sliding under my ribs like a knife.
What I had with Viktor was fragile. Brittle bones, weak foundation, the kind of thing that could shatter under the slightest pressure. And the hotel had been my one card. Now? Nothing.
I sighed resignedly.
Fine. I’d wait for him to come back. I’d watch where he kept the laptop. That was the only way.
Turning from the desk, I slipped out of the office, closing the door softly behind me.
I was halfway to the bedroom when something snagged my attention.
A picture on the wall. A portrait I’d seen the first time I was here, but it struck me differently now. Paulo.
His face caught in careful paint, the lines of youth and promise framed in shadow. A plaque under the frame bore his name. Paulo Marino.
A shiver chased down the back of my neck. My stomach tightened. What had really happened to him? What part of the story was I missing?
As if the house wanted to answer me, the hallway itself stirred. A faint draft, lifted the floor-to-ceiling a few feet down, the fabric shifting like it was alive. My skin prickled.
I walked toward it, my heartbeat loud in the quiet, and pulled the heavy drapes aside. Behind them… of course… was a door. A hidden door.
I grabbed the knob and twisted. Locked.
“Figures,” I muttered under my breath. “Of course the creepy door behind the curtains is locked.”
Still, the sight of it sent a spark through me.
The mystery tickled at my ribs and tempted me to solve it. I backed away, glanced around, then broke into a quiet run down the hall.
One of the guest rooms I’d stayed in before had a box of bobby pins on the vanity. I snatched one up and returned to the mystery room.
My fingers trembled a little as I typed into my phone: how to unlock a door with a Bobby pin. The video loaded. I followed along clumsily, my heart racing as if I was trying to defuse a bomb instead of open a lock. It took longer than I preferred , but then—click. The knob gave way.
I froze, glancing left, then right. The hallway was empty and silent.
My pulse thudded in my ears as I pushed the door open and stepped inside.
It was dark. The windows were sealed shut, the shades drawn so tightly that no light bled through.
I flicked the switch on the wall. Nothing happened. It was dead.
I had to use my phone torch as a guide, the glow trembled in my grip as I lifted it.
The beam illuminated the room, revealing a plain, neat bed. Band posters on the walls, and empty plant pots.
Aside that, the room was bare but well maintained.
On the desk, the light caught the gleam of a frame. I stepped closer and lifted it carefully. My throat tightened.
It was a picture of Viktor, leaner, his smile more boyish than I’d ever seen. And Paulo beside him, his arm across his brother’s shoulder, both of them caught in a moment that felt private and happy.
I blinked, sadness creeping over me, as I tilted the frame, ready to set it back where I’d found it…
The door slammed open behind me. Hard.
I jumped, turned, my heart slamming in my chest.
His silhouette, dark and tall, filled the doorway like a nightmare.
Viktor.