VIDAL

THIRTEEN

Ivan's private study was draped in half-shadows, the overhead lamp casting golden halos across rows of old, leather-bound books. The scent of tobacco hovered in the air, and the hush was so absolute that the tick of an unseen clock seemed deafening. Enzo stood before the massive wooden desk, his posture rigid, arms folded over his chest. Ivan sat behind it, leaning back in his chair as though at ease, but his eyes told a different story—sharp, predatory, and intent on cornering Enzo.

"So," Ivan began, voice deceptively calm, "Aleks has made another mistake." He paused, tapping a polished nail on the desk's surface. "He killed a woman he shouldn't have touched. The body—unfortunately—complicates things."

Enzo's jaw tightened. He knew where this was going. Still, he let Ivan spin it out. To interrupt would be to cede ground.

Ivan continued, "I need it taken care of. Quietly. Efficiently. No traces." He raised an eyebrow, as if expecting immediate compliance.

"No," Enzo said, the single word striking like a hammer in the silence.

Ivan's brow furrowed.

"No?" He repeated it slowly, as though the concept were foreign to him. "You realize who you're speaking to, Enzo? This isn't a request. This is me, telling you what must be done."

Enzo met Ivan's gaze without blinking. "I'm aware of who you are. I'm aware of what you think I owe you. But I'm not Aleks's janitor." His voice was low, controlled.

The tension in the room coiled tighter with each word he spoke. Ivan leaned forward, elbows on the desk, fingers steepled.

"You've always done what needed doing before, Enzo. Don't test my patience now."

Enzo remained unmoved. "You want someone to handle Aleks's mess? Send one of your amateurs." He shrugged, eyes narrowing slightly. "I'm done with that role."

A hiss escaped Ivan's lips, a sound more animal than human.

"You think because you're the best hitman in the U.S., you can defy me?" The veneer of calm cracked, revealing the fury beneath. "You have a reputation, but don't forget who nurtured your talents, who gave you your first assignments, who protected you when others would have gladly put a bullet in your skull."

Enzo's lips curved into a humorless half-smile.

"I haven't forgotten. But I'm not a puppet you can dangle to cover Aleks's stupidity." He let the silence stretch, pressing Ivan's patience further.

Ivan rose from his chair, palms flat on the desk as he leaned forward. "You will do this, Enzo. The body will disappear tonight, and you will make it happen, or else—"

"Or else what?" Enzo cut in, voice softer but no less dangerous. "You think you can scare me with threats?"

For a moment, Ivan didn't speak. Then he spoke Ivan's trump card, slowly, deliberately: "Camilla." Her name sounded alien in his mouth.

"A certain woman leaving your apartment... what was her name again? Camilla Hale. If you're too busy to handle our affairs, maybe I should get others involved. Some of them, I admit, are less... careful with collateral damage."

Enzo's heart hammered once—only once—but he gave no outward sign of alarm. Instead, he sneered, taking a step closer to the desk.

"Camilla?" he repeated, letting out a dry, mocking laugh. "You think I care if you threaten some random girl who wandered into my bed? Come on, Ivan. If you're going to hold someone hostage, at least pick someone important. You think I haven't had a parade of women come and go?" He shrugged. "If you plan on making trouble for every woman I've spent a night with, you'd best free up your calendar. You'll be very busy."

Ivan's eyes narrowed, searching Enzo's face for a tell, a flinch, any sign that he'd struck a nerve. But Enzo was a marble statue—cold, unmoving, unreadable. The old man's frustration simmered, and he pressed again, voice rasping low: "Don't underestimate me, Enzo. I can find ways to make you regret defiance."

Enzo leaned in, his voice dropping to a near-whisper.

"No, Ivan, don't underestimate me. I know exactly what you're capable of. But let's be clear—I'm not Aleks. I'm not one of your lapdogs. I'm the best at what I do. You want me to dispose of a body, you think you can threaten me into submission?" He snorted softly.

"I'm not so easily moved. Kill a thousand women if you like—my reputation won't suffer. It'll only show how desperate you've become."

The words hung between them, bitter and charged. Ivan's knuckles whitened against the desk. He had meant to wield Camilla's name like a blade, slicing through Enzo's defenses.

Instead, he'd struck air.

Now he was forced to confront an ugly truth: Enzo didn't crack under the usual threats. It meant the balance of power was not as he'd assumed.

The silence stretched, and the rage in Ivan's eyes flickered, struggling to find a new weapon. But none came. He tried to speak, found no suitable threat, and so he stepped back.

"Fine," Ivan managed, voice clipped, each syllable trembling with barely leashed anger. "Have it your way. For now."

Enzo inclined his head, acknowledging the concession without gloating. His posture said enough: This round belonged to him. Without another word, he turned and left the study, footsteps echoing down the corridor.

Only when the door clicked shut behind him did Ivan allow himself a snarl of frustration, the old wood and leather swallowing his impotent fury. Enzo had shown his hand—and Ivan, for once, had no winning card to play.

~*~

Friday morning sunlight streamed through the glass partitions of the firm's offices, illuminating stacks of legal briefs and freshly printed contracts. Camilla sat opposite Giulia's desk, a yellow notepad balanced on her knee as she listened to Giulia rapid-fire updates about ongoing cases.

Giulia's words came fast—names, hearing dates, strategic moves—yet Camilla kept pace with ease, scribbling notes, nodding at the right moments, and occasionally offering a succinct confirmation or suggestion.

They finished confirming a series of client meetings for next week—two depositions, a pretrial conference, and a follow-up on a settlement negotiation. Camilla read them back, each date and time precise, each location confirmed. Giulia's nod of approval was swift.

They functioned smoothly as a team, an unspoken synergy that made even a hectic schedule seem manageable.

"Perfect," Giulia declared, leaning back in her chair, the morning's chaos momentarily contained. She drummed her fingers lightly on the desk's surface before changing tack.

"Now, tell me something," she said casually, eyes narrowing with curiosity. "I saw Enzo in the office the other day. What's going on there?"

Camilla's heart lurched. She tried to keep her expression neutral as she shuffled her papers.

"Oh, that," she said, forcing a light tone, "Nothing really. He just dropped by to go over some details." She hoped the vagueness would suffice, but Giulia had a talent for sniffing out half-truths.

"Uh-huh," Giulia said, the syllables stretching with skepticism. "Nothing really, you say? Because last time I checked, he's not exactly the type who casually wanders into law offices. Not without a reason."

Camilla chewed her lip, looking for an escape. But the steady intensity of Giulia's gaze told her there'd be no brushing this off. With a resigned sigh, she set her notepad down.

"Fine," she relented. "I... I really like him, okay? But I'm not sure if he likes me at all. He runs hot and cold. One minute he's attentive, the next he's distant."

A slow smile crept across Giulia's face, as though this was the best news she'd heard all week.

"So that's it," she murmured, leaning in, elbows on the desk. "And you say he's hot and cold? Maybe he just doesn't realize what you want from him. Enzo can be... aloof if you're not obvious."

Camilla blinked, curiosity piqued. "You say that like you know him."

Giulia shrugged one shoulder elegantly. "In passing," she said breezily, though really knew Giulia's intentions, she would know this was a lie—Giulia knew Enzo much better than "in passing." But Camilla didn't have that luxury. She took Giulia's words at face value, though some instinct told her there was more beneath that polished exterior.

"Tell me more about him," Camilla said softly, her tone almost pleading. She was eager, hungry even, for any insight. She wanted to understand him before she saw him that evening. She needed an edge, a clue to crack that guarded demeanor and see if there was a future waiting for them.

Giulia's eyes gleamed, clearly happy to supply information.

"Enzo's not as mysterious as he seems. Underneath all that quiet confidence, he's got passions, loyalties... He's someone who takes time to open up." She paused for effect, feigning casualness. "He came to New York a while back, from Italy. Had to make a name for himself, build a life here."

What Giulia didn't say openly is that when Enzo first arrived, Giulia and he were as close as two people could be. They'd once been a deadly duo, both working as killers—Giulia out of necessity to finance her law education, Enzo following the path destiny carved for him.

They'd learned to survive in this city, side by side, at times relying on each other's blades in dark alleys and uncertain times. Now Giulia used her intelligence, those old instincts, to win cases she deemed important, blurring the line between legality and cunning skill.

It made her the perfect person to orchestrate events behind the scenes—like nudging Camilla and Enzo together for her own motives.

"And what about his personality?" Camilla asked, eager. "If he's aloof, how do I... make him see what I feel?"

Giulia's smirk widened. Perfect. This was exactly where she wanted this conversation to go.

"You mentioned he runs hot and cold. Maybe he's unsure if you want him. If you like him, show him. Seduce him. Be direct. Men like Enzo appreciate honesty—even if they don't always say it."

Camilla swallowed, considering this. She glanced at her watch. There was still time before her evening plans with him. If she was going to be direct, maybe she needed something more—some confidence to back it up. She blushed slightly, admitting something that had weighed on her mind:

"I'm meeting him tonight. I thought maybe... I could, I don't know, seduce him." Her cheeks flushed deeper as the words escaped her mouth. "But I've only had s*x once in my life. I wouldn't know where to start."

Giulia's eyes danced with delight, as if Christmas had come early.

"Ah, you want the upper hand," she said, as though bestowing a secret weapon. "Seduction is about confidence. If you feel beautiful and sure of yourself, he'll sense it. Pick something that makes you feel powerful, alluring. Show him you know what you want."

"Powerful and alluring," Camilla echoed weakly, brow furrowed. "I'm not sure what to wear, how to act..."

Giulia lifted a hand, halting the stammering. "Enough talk. We're taking an early lunch."

Camilla blinked. "Lunch? Where would we go?"

Giulia stood gracefully, already gathering her purse. "Shopping, of course," she said as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "If you want to seduce a man like Enzo, you need the right tools. Let's find you something that'll leave him speechless."

Camilla hesitated, but the sparkle in Giulia's eyes and the certainty in her voice left little room for doubt. With a crooked grin, she stood, smoothing her skirt. "Okay," she said softly, feeling a tingle of excitement and trepidation.

Together they left the office, the door clicking quietly behind them.