ABSOLUTE INSANITY: A forbidden bond

Chapter 278: Dangerous, but good.

Chapter 277

ROMEO POV

The moment the aircraft door opened, the air hit me.

Italy. Warm. Salted faintly by the sea. Heavy with night and something else I had never liked to name.

It always smelled like happiness here. Too much of it. Too much life. Too much noise. Too much warmth for a place that had buried everything that mattered to me.

I stepped down from the jet without hesitation. The runway lights cut across the darkness in long white lines. Men were already positioned at the perimeter. Vehicles waited in formation near the exit, engines running, doors ready.

Efficient. Quiet. Prepared. The way things should be. One of the local coordinators approached as I crossed the distance, offering a respectful nod. "Welcome back, sir."

I didn’t slow. "Status?" I asked.

"All secure. Route cleared. No movement around the estate."

Good. I moved past him, already reaching the line of vehicles. James stood beside the middle car, one hand on the rear door handle. He opened it the moment I approached.

I stepped inside and the door shut behind me. The car pulled forward immediately, the rest of the convoy falling into place without instruction.

I leaned back slightly, one arm resting against the door, my gaze moving to the window. The city stretched beyond the glass.

Even at this hour, Italy was awake. Lights spilled from cafés. People walked in groups, talking, laughing, moving without urgency. Music drifted faintly from somewhere down a narrow street.

A couple stood too close outside a restaurant, arguing or flirting — it was hard to tell. Carefree

Unaware. This country had always lived like nothing bad could reach it.

Like loss was something that happened somewhere else. My eyes followed the movement of the streets as we drove.

Nothing had changed. Same warmth. Same noise. Same illusion that life here was simple.

I had left this place years ago with no intention of coming back. And yet here I was.

Because Katya was here.

Because she decided the man who solved her problem was more dangerous than the problem itself.

She couldn’t even look at me after I did what needed to be done. My jaw tightened slightly. "Update," I said without looking away from the window.

James’s voice came from the front. "Michael should still be at the estate."

So he accepted dinner. Inside my family’s house. He was comfortable enough to sit at my grandmother’s table.

My gaze shifted slightly, the reflection of the city lights cutting across the glass.

I watched a group of people cross the street, laughing too loudly for the hour. The car turned off the main road, the lights thinning as the estate district approached.

The gates appeared ahead, already beginning to open as the convoy approached.Then another car moved out.

Passing ours.

I straightened slightly, my gaze shifting toward the driver’s seat as the vehicles crossed.

Michael. The streetlights caught his profile for half a second. He couldn’t see me. The windows were heavily tinted.

But as he drove past, his eyes followed the car. Slow. Alert. Careful.

Good.

That meant he understood enough to be cautious. It also meant he knew he was somewhere he didn’t belong.

The convoy rolled forward. The gates opened fully, iron parting without hesitation, and the cars entered the estate.

Nothing here had changed.

Same gravel. Same lights lining the driveway. Same house standing ahead like a memory I had buried and never intended to revisit. The convoy slowed as it curved toward the front.

And then I saw her. Before the car even stopped.

Katya stood near the driveway, unmoving, the light from the entrance falling across her.

Red.

The dress fit close, the fabric tracing the line of her waist, her hips, her shoulders. It wasn’t casual. It wasn’t something someone wore for comfort.

It was deliberate.

My jaw hardened.

So that was how the evening had gone.

Dinner. Conversation. And she had dressed for it.

For him.

My gaze moved over her once, slow and precise, cataloging details without expression. The way she stood. The tension in her shoulders. The stillness that wasn’t calm.

She hadn’t gone inside after he left.

She had stayed. She had saw him out like a proper guest. The car came to a complete stop.

James was already trying to move outside toward my door but I opened it before he reached the handle.

The movement was controlled, but faster than usual. I stepped out onto the gravel, the night air settling around me, the quiet of the estate closing in as the rest of the convoy shut down behind me.

My attention never left her. Our eyes met and there it was. Shock—raw and unfiltered—flashing across her face before she could school it into something neutral.

Katya had always been terrible at hiding her first reaction but seeing how she didn’t trembled as our eyes locked made me realize she was not the same girl from six months ago.

I straightened my jacket, smoothing it down with deliberate calm. Around me, my men moved with quiet efficiency, spreading out just enough to secure the perimeter without making a spectacle of it.

The house loomed behind her, all warm lights and false peace.

Nonna’s house. My childhood house. The distance between us wasn’t large, but it felt measured. Charged. Like the space itself understood this wasn’t a normal reunion.

Six months.

Six months without contact. Without her voice. Without her presence. And now she was here.

In my house. Wearing red for another man. My expression didn’t change as I closed the car door behind me.

But something cold and heavy settled deeper in my chest. She had wanted distance. She had asked for silence. I had given it to her.

I took a step forward. Watching her carefully. Waiting to see if she would step back. Or if she would stand her ground.

She flinched. Barely. If someone else had been watching, they wouldn’t have noticed it. Just the smallest shift in her shoulders. A quick tightening in her spine. Her breath catching half a second too late.

But I noticed. She still reacted to me. Not like before. Six months ago she would have looked for an exit first.

Her eyes would have darted to the gates, to the shadows, calculating distance and timing. Her hands would have trembled—just slightly—but enough.

Now? She held her ground.

Her chin lifted a fraction. Her shoulders squared. And instead of tearing her gaze away from mine like she used to—like it physically burned her to hold it.

She kept eye contact. Interesting. Growth looked good on her.

Dangerous, but good.