ABSOLUTE INSANITY: A forbidden bond

Chapter 269: Home.

Chapter 269

ROMEO POV

Paperwork had a way of dulling the sharpest edges of a man. I signed my name for the third time on the same document, precise and controlled, the pen gliding smoothly over paper as if nothing in the world was wrong.

As if my thoughts weren’t miles away from ink and contracts and quarterly numbers. As if six months of silence hadn’t carved something restless and sharp into my chest.

I set the pen down, aligned the file perfectly with the stack beside it, and reached for the drawer beneath my desk.

The second one. The one that hadn’t held office supplies in six months.

I slid it open slowly. Inside sat a single envelope. Plain. Thick. Unmarked. I pulled it out and emptied its contents onto the desk.

Photographs spilled across the polished wood, quiet and damning. Pieces of a life I no longer had any right to observe.

Katya—walking down a narrow Italian street, hair loose, sunglasses pushed into her curls like she hadn’t bothered to care where they ended up.

Katya at a café, laughing. Not fake, polite laughter. Real laughter. Head tipped back, throat exposed, sunlight catching on skin that looked warmer than I remembered.

Katya on my old room’s balcony at night, wrapped in a sweater that wasn’t mine, gazing out over a city that had swallowed her whole and somehow softened her instead of breaking her.

She looked alive. Happy and safe. That was the part that hurt the most.

Six months ago, I had given the order quietly. No interference. No contact. No mistakes. She was to be watched, not touched. Protected without her ever knowing there was a shadow at her back.

Under no circumstances was Katya to know and from there on our Katya had lived her life to the fullest.

Who knew Katya would be sneaking out at mid night with the head maid daughter? I picked up another photo, my thumb brushing its edge without thought.

She was barefoot in this one. Standing on sand, a yellow dress flowing around her legs, the wind caught in her hair like it had claimed her as its own.

A beach.

I reached for the next photograph when Knock.

The door opened without permission. I didn’t look up. I didn’t need to. Only one person in this building ignored protocol like that and survived doing it repeatedly.

"Antonio," I said flatly. He stepped inside and shut the door behind him, slower than usual. I felt his gaze land not on me but on the photographs.

A quiet sigh left him before he could stop it. "There’s a situation," he said.

I didn’t lift my eyes from Katya’s image. Her smile was caught mid-second, unaware, unguarded. I committed it to memory like I was afraid it might disappear if I didn’t.

The old man had been holding things together while the silence pressed in, while this office became quieter and heavier by the day.

I leaned back in my chair, folding my hands together on the desk, gaze still fixed on the Katya relaxed face. "Talk."

Antonio took a breath. "Two days ago," he began, "that guy Michael boarded a flight out of the country."

I didn’t react. My posture didn’t change. My attention never left the picture beneath my fingers.

"Destination?" I asked.

"Italy."

The word settled into the room like smoke. I nodded once, slow and controlled. "I was informed." Truly I was, James always did his work.

Antonio paused—just briefly—then continued. "Then you know he landed safely. But he hadn’t made contact yet."

Yet. My eyes traced Katya’s face in the photo, memorizing details I already knew by heart. I leaned back slightly, gaze drifting only as far as the window’s reflection still never leaving her.

"How long has he been under watch?" I asked.

"From the airport," Antonio replied. "Hotel, movements, calls. Everything."

"And?" I pressed, already bored by the conversation. I tried my best to keep my anger in check, Katya wouldn’t want me barging into her life just because I suspect an ex cop.

"And he’s careful," Antonio cuts in. "Too careful. No obvious reason for the trip. No public meetings. No paper trail that explains why he’s there."

My mouth curved faintly. "Michael was always good at pretending to be harmless."

Throughout the six months he’d been under watch, his life had been boring. Predictable. Clean but that hadn’t fooled me.

"Do you think he came for her?" Antonio asked.

I didn’t answer. Instead, I reached for my desk again, drew out a single photograph, and set it apart from the others.

Katya at my old bedroom balcony gazing at the sky, nonna really gave her that room. Was she still angry with me?

"He didn’t fly across the ocean for the weather," I said quietly. Silence stretched between us.

I rose from my chair and moved toward the window, hands clasped behind my back. From this height, the estate looked orderly. Controlled.

Everything always did until Katya existed within the equation. "Orders remain the same," I said. "You keep watching him. Distance. Precision."

Antonio nodded. "And if he contacts her?"

I turned slowly, finally tearing my gaze away from the photograph. The door burst open before I could answer.

James.

He filled the doorway like a storm he hadn’t bothered to announce, jaw tight, shoulders rigid, a file clutched in his hand.

His eyes flicked briefly to Antonio—then straight to me. Whatever he was carrying had weight. Not just in paper, but in consequence.

I straightened fully, my attention finally ripped from Katya’s image as James stepped into the room and shut the door behind him with deliberate force.

He didn’t apologize. Didn’t explain himself. He crossed the room in three strides, dropped the file onto my desk, and took one step back.

The sound echoed louder than it should have.I didn’t look at him. I moved instead—back to the desk, to the place where control was supposed to live.

My fingers closed around the file, steady despite the slow tightening in my chest. I opened it and....Photographs.

Different this time.

Night. Katya stood at beach, dressed in black, the fabric of her dress clinging softly to her body as if the darkness itself had claimed her.

Her hair fell loose over her shoulders, her face turned slightly to the side.

And in front of her was non other than Michael.

Too close. Close enough that my jaw locked before I was even aware of it.

Another photo.

Them again. Speaking. His posture angled toward her, familiar. Intent. His hand lifted, mid-gesture, as if he had every right to occupy her space.

Another. They were walking now. Not touching—but close enough that the distance felt intentional. Dangerous.

The room went very still.

I was aware of Antonio’s breath hitching quietly beside me. A silent curse. A resignation.

James finally spoke.

"He made contact." I stared at the photograph in my hand, the edges biting into my palm as my grip tightened.

The restrained calm I had maintained for months compressed.

Pulled inward. Condensed into something colder. Heavier.

Michael with her.In the dark.

In a city that I wasn’t in? My eyes lifted slowly from the photo. "It’s time we take a visit to our home country."