ABSOLUTE INSANITY: A forbidden bond

Chapter 287: Secret admirer

Chapter 287

KATYA POV

The moment the panel slid open and he stepped out, my heart dropped straight into my stomach.

Oh God.

How long had he been there? How much had he heard? Every word Chiara had said replayed in my head all at once — the questions, the excitement, the Was it him? — and heat rushed up my neck, spreading across my face.

I couldn’t breathe. Romeo stepped fully into the room like he belonged to the air itself — silent, controlled, untouched by the tension that had just swallowed me whole.

He was dressed in dark clothes. A black shirt, sleeves rolled just enough to reveal the hard lines of his forearms. Dark trousers. Everything about him was sharp and clean.

And the mask. It sat perfectly on his face, cold and unreadable. Chiara straightened immediately beside me.

"Good morning, Don Romeo," she said quickly, her voice suddenly polite, respectful — the dramatic excitement from seconds ago disappearing like it had never existed.

Romeo barely acknowledged her. If he even heard her at all. Because his eyes had already moved past her. To me.

The air left my lungs. His gaze dropped from my face to my hands.

To the jewelry box. And then to the open lid. To the necklace. The bracelet. The earrings.

The note. It wasn’t a long look. It wasn’t even an obvious one. But it was enough. Enough to make my fingers tighten around the box.

Enough to make my stomach twist. Enough to make one terrifying thought settle deep in my chest.

It’s him. But he didn’t say anything. Didn’t ask. Didn’t react. Didn’t even look back at my face.

His expression remained completely blank. Like none of this mattered.

Like I didn’t matter. And then he turned. Just like that. He calmly walked past us, his steps unhurried, the quiet authority around him filling the room for only a few seconds before he crossed the doorway.

No explanation. No acknowledgment. No denial. Nothing. The door closed behind him.

And the silence he left behind felt heavier than his presence. Chiara slowly turned toward me. Her eyes were wide. Very wide. "And what was that intense look about." I swallowed, still staring at the door like it might open again.

"What do you mean?" My voice came out thinner than I wanted. Too tight. Too defensive.

Chiara blinked at me before she gave me a look. Not her dramatic look. Not her playful one.

The are you serious right now? look. "Katya," she said slowly, like she was speaking to someone who had just lost common sense. "Come on. Don’t act clueless." I finally turned to face her.

"What are you talking about?" She pointed toward the door Romeo had just walked through.

"That man just walked into this room, ignored me like I was a piece of furniture actually no, worse, like I was dust and looked straight at you."

Her eyes dropped to the box in my hands.

"And that." My grip tightened around it. Chiara’s expression shifted. The realization hit her all at once. I saw it happen — the widening eyes, the sharp inhale, the slow lift of her head as she looked back at me.

"Wait."

My stomach sank. "Wait," she repeated, quieter this time. Her voice dropped into a whisper, like the walls might be listening.

"It’s him." I shook my head immediately. "Chiara—"

"He’s the admirer?" she finished, her voice rising again. "Don Romeo is your secret admirer?" She stared at the jewelry.

Then at me. Then back at the door. "Fuck." The word slipped out of her like a realization she couldn’t hold back.

I shook my head harder this time. "No," I said quickly. Too quickly. "No. It can’t be him."

Chiara looked at me, still wide-eyed.

"Chiara," I said, forcing my voice to stay steady, forcing my thoughts to stay logical. "Have you forgotten what I told you about him?"

Her expression paused. Then slowly... reality settled back into her face. The excitement faded. The thrill disappeared.

She blinked once. Twice. "...That’s true," she murmured.

Her eyes moved toward the door again, but this time there was no excitement in them.

Only caution. "That man doesn’t have a heart," she said quietly.

I didn’t respond. Because that was exactly what I believed too. Chiara crossed her arms, shaking her head slowly like she was correcting herself.

"He’s hot," she admitted after a second. "Very hot. Like dangerously, illegally hot." Despite everything, my eyes flicked to her.

"But he is literally the devil’s son," she continued seriously.

Then she glanced upward. "Sorry, Nonna," she added quickly, making a small apologetic gesture.

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. The tension in my chest loosened slightly. Because she was right.

Romeo didn’t give gifts. Romeo didn’t do kindness. Romeo didn’t notice people unless they were useful... or a problem.

And I was both. I looked down at the jewelry box in my hands. The expensive velvet.

The weight of it. The quiet, terrifying message it carried. If this was from him... It wasn’t admiration. Heck it wasn’t romance.

It was something else. Something colder. Something heavier. Something that felt less like a gift... And probably more like a warning.

---

By afternoon, I had dump the jewelry at the bedside table, refusing to touched it or even look at it.

The box sat exactly where I had left it — on the small table near my bed, closed now. I had thought about hiding it.

Throwing it away. Returning it. Opening it again. I did none of those things.

I wasn’t going to touch it. If it was from him, I didn’t want to accept it. And if it wasn’t from him... that might actually make it worse.

Because then I didn’t know who the heck is dangerous enough to watch me.

"Katya." I didn’t look up.

"Katya," Chiara repeated, dragging my name this time, her tone dangerously close to whining.

I sighed. "What?"

She stood near the door, already dressed, her bag hanging from her shoulder, her sunglasses pushed up into her hair like she was about to attend a beach photoshoot instead of retrieving a vehicle we had abandoned like criminals.

"We need to go get my car."

"No." Her mouth fell open.

"Katya!"

"I’m not in the mood," I muttered, tying my hair back without looking at her. "Call someone. Order a ride. Tell a guard. Tell the universe."

She walked closer. "First of all," she said, holding up a finger, "that car is my baby."

Second finger.

"Second of all, you phone is in there too. And." She raised a third finger.

" Third of all, you need fresh air. You’ve been staring at that jewelry box like it personally offended you for four hours."

I looked at her. "I haven’t been staring at it." She stared back.

"...Okay, maybe a little." I groaned, grappling my shoes.

"Fine. But we go, we get the car, and we come back. No drama."

Chiara’s face lit up instantly. "Love you," she said, already pulling the door open.

"I didn’t say I loved you."

"You meant it emotionally."

I rolled my eyes and followed her out. We walked down the hallway together, Chiara already talking about something — traffic, the sun, her hair, life, probably world peace — while my mind stayed somewhere else.

On a velvet box. On Romeo cold mask. On that silent look. We reached the staircase and started down.

Halfway down, Chiara stopped. Completely stopped. Her hand shot out, grabbing my arm.

I looked up. And saw why.

James stood near the bottom of the stairs, talking to someone from the staff, his posture relaxed, one hand in his pocket, his voice calm.

The moment Chiara saw him, her entire personality changed. It was almost impressive. Her shoulders straightened. Her hair was quickly adjusted.

Her expression softened into something casual. Her voice, when she spoke, was suddenly light.

"Oh," she said softly, like she had just accidentally wandered into a romantic movie scene. "Hi, James."

I blinked slowly. That was not the same person who had been arguing with me thirty seconds ago.

James looked up. His eyes moved to Chiara first, then briefly to me, giving a small polite nod.

"Good afternoon," he said. Chiara smiled. Not her usual grin.

This was her I am normal and composed and definitely not thinking about marrying you smile.

"Afternoon," she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. I crossed my arms and leaned slightly against the railing, watching the performance.

From the corner of my eye, I noticed Romeo standing near the sitting area, a tablet in his hands.

He wasn’t working. He was watching.

Watching ME! My stomach dropped.

He wasn’t talking. He wasn’t working. He was just... watching. "We’re leaving," I muttered suddenly, grabbing Chiara’s forearm before she could say another word and dragging her toward the door.