Chapter 128: Chapter 128
DOMENICO
Smoke curled lazily toward the ceiling of my office, thick and slow, twisting under the low light like it had nowhere else to go. The room was quiet in that expensive, controlled way only money can buy. No noise. No chaos. Just me, my thoughts, and the weight of everything I refused to let slip from my hands.
The glass walls of my office reflected faint versions of me back at myself. Older. Colder. Tired in a way sleep never fixed.
I sat behind my desk with a glass of whiskey in one hand and a cigar burning between two fingers of the other, staring at the monitor in front of me like a starving man watching a locked kitchen.
Reina.
One folder. Then another. Then another.
Files I had built over time like a private religion.
Stolen images. Hidden recordings. Security footage rerouted through systems no one else in my world knew I had access to.
She was everywhere in them.
Walking. Sitting. Breathing. Laughing at things I could never hear. Turning her head slightly like she always did when she was thinking too much. Running her fingers through her hair when she was nervous.
Small things.
Things that made her feel like she was still within reach.
My jaw tightened as another image filled the screen. Reina in a soft sweater, hair falling over one shoulder, eyes unfocused like she was somewhere far away from the world she was standing in.
She had no idea what she did to me.
No idea how easily she filled the silence in my head.
I took a slow drag from the cigar and exhaled through my nose.
The smoke mixed with whiskey heat, but it didn’t touch the ache in my chest.
Last night still lingered.
Her voice. Her anger. The way she looked at me like I had crossed a line I could never step back over.
I told myself I didn’t care how she looked at me.
That was a lie.
I cared too much.
I wanted her in my arms again.
I wanted her scent on my clothes so deeply it made my hands curl unconsciously against the edge of the desk.
Instead, I was here, feeding on images like a man pretending it was enough.
It wasn’t.
It would never be enough.
I leaned back slightly, eyes still fixed on her face on the screen.
If I could just remove whatever was making her pull away from me... if I could just fix the distance growing between us...
Maybe she would come back.
Maybe she would look at me again without that edge of resistance.
A slow thought formed.
The one I kept circling but never fully admitting.
The stalker.
Someone had been following her.
Watching her.
My men were still searching, digging through shadows, but nothing solid had surfaced yet.
A ghost.
And ghosts were inconvenient.
If I found them, if I could present her with proof that I protected her better than anyone else ever could...
Maybe she would forgive me.
Maybe she would stay.
The idea warmed something dark in me.
Not hope.
Something sharper.
Possession dressed up as reasoning.
I reached for the whiskey again when a knock broke through the quiet.
Controlled. Careful.
"Come in."
The handle turned, and the door opened without hurry.
Paolo stepped inside first.
Dust streaked the shoulders of his coat. His jaw was tight enough to crack a tooth, and there was something heavy sitting behind his eyes.
I felt my temper stir at once. He was supposed to be gone. Still on the road. Still cleaning up the mess I sent him to handle days ago.
Not here. Not in my office. Not back into Reina’s life.
"I’m back, Father."
My stare hardened.
No greeting. No explanation. Just the audacity to return before I called for him.
I rose slowly from my chair. I needed to send him back, I don’t want him back home. "Did you find her?" I asked. "Or did she slip through your fingers like every other inconvenience you fail to control?"
The words had barely left my mouth when movement appeared in the doorway.
My gaze snapped past him.
Elisa stepped inside. Her clothes were wrinkled, her hair roughly pushed back, eyes too wide and watchful. She stood just over the threshold, body held rigid, like she hadn’t decided whether to run or stay.
My daughter. The one who had been nothing but a nuisance from the day she was born.
Paolo said nothing. That silence irritated me more than if he had spoken.
So he had found her. Then why was he standing here instead of finishing what I assigned him? The order was to either send her back to her gate, or take her out. I should have known that bastard son of mine would fail, just like he has failed to take care of the cop.
I looked back at him.
"You had one responsibility," I said, rounding the desk. "The Marino deal was to be handled before you came home."
His expression didn’t shift. "I know."
"Clearly, you don’t."
"I’m sorry I couldn’t finish it."
The apology dropped flat on the floor between us.
Useless.
"I needed to come back."
I stopped a few feet from him.
There was no regret in his tone. No shame. No attempt to placate me.
Only certainty. My jaw clenched.
"You needed?" I repeated, each word cut sharp.
He exhaled slowly, like a man preparing to walk straight into gunfire.
"I spoke to Reina last night. And again this morning."
The name shifted something in the room immediately.
Even Elisa’s attention sharpened.
"She’s in danger, father. My wife is in danger, sir. I thought you know that." Paolo continued.
My grip tightened on the glass.
Danger.
"She’s being followed," he said. "Someone is watching her movements. I’m not leaving her alone while that happens."
My expression hardened.
Of course.
Of course she’s his. Always his.
"I can handle that," I said sharply. "She is under my protection."
Paolo shook his head once.
"No. I need to be there for her. I brought her into this family, she’s my responsibility, boss. She needed me."
Something in me snapped slightly at the phrasing.
Need.
Not permission.
Not respect.
Need.
