The Rinaldi Bargain

Chapter Six

SNOW stood at the long dining table late one morning, checking inventory lists while sunlight spilled soft through tall glass doors.

She had run this house her way for weeks now. Every meal, every repair, every shift of staff fell under her eye. It felt right. It felt like something truly hers. Yet the old wariness never fully faded. She never let it.

Silas walked in wiping ink from his fingers, looking worn and sharp around the edges as usual. He stopped short seeing her surrounded by papers and ledgers instead of out in the dirt. He leaned one shoulder against the carved doorframe, that familiar lazy smirk tugging at his mouth already.

“Let me guess,” he drawled slow and dry. “You are plotting to bankrupt me through flower orders? Very clever strategy. Hit a man right in his wallet before you hit him anywhere else.”

Snow did not even look up right away, though the corner of her own mouth tugged despite her best effort. “I am checking supply costs actually. Unless you would prefer I just order every bloom in Sicily and charge it all to you.”

“Please do,” he said strolling closer with exaggerated grace. “I enjoy seeing what else you will bury my courtyard under with next. Daisies were bad enough. I dread what comes after roses.”

“Tulips,” she told him dead serious, finally lifting her chin to meet his teasing gaze. “Entire rows of them. Bright red ones too. Very bold. Very hard to miss.”

Silas groaned loud and dramatic like she had just threatened to burn the whole fortress down. “Wonderful. Next you will want rainbows and unicorns painted on the battlements. I run a criminal empire sweetheart, not a fairy tale.”

“Empires need feeding and cleaning and ordering too,” she countered tapping a page firm with one finger. “Someone has to keep this place from falling apart around your ears while you go out making enemies everywhere.”

“Fair point,” he conceded, stopping right beside her chair. “And I suppose it might be nice to return home to something better than ashes and bloodstains.”

He leaned down suddenly closer than she expected. Snow froze.

His scent wrapped around her instantly. Cedar and something dark and warm. He reached past her shoulder, slow. She thought he meant to kiss her then. Her breath caught sharp and fast. Her heart hammered hard against her ribs.

He simply plucked a stray petal that had stuck in her hair earlier right out with two fingers. He held it up between them turning it in the light like it was some strange treasure. His dark eyes never left hers though. Heavy. Hot. Unreadable.

“Garden dust everywhere,” he murmured low voice dropping rough. “Even up here.”

Snow snatched the petal away with cheeks burning hot. “It happens. Go away, Silas.”

“Rude,” he chuckled quiet and amused straight through. “I helpfully remove debris and this is my reward?”

“Debris can stay next time.”

“We shall see,” he said simply, straightening up but lingering still far too close. “I doubt I will mind finding more of you everywhere I look.”

Her face burned hotter.

She spun back to her papers fast before he saw how easily he rattled her. “Just go handle your business, Silas. Leave me to mine.”

“Your wish,” he bowed, mockingly elegant and turning toward the door. “For now.”

He vanished but the warmth lingered long after. Snow pressed a hand to her chest trying to slow the frantic beat.

He knew exactly what he did. He toyed with her like she was some loose string just waiting to be pulled. She hated it. She hated how well it worked.

Two days later, things shifted sharp and hard. Lorenzo arrived up the stairs pale and grim, carrying a sealed envelope marked with a sign she had seen Silas lock away in his private files many times before.

He delivered it straight to Silas’s study where Snow sat, going over household plans too. Silas broke the seal with his face growing darker line by line until all amusement drained completely away.

He tossed the single sheet onto the wood top hard enough to slide toward her. “Read it.”

Snow picked it up, hands steady despite the cold dread curling through her stomach.

The words burned clear and cruel. A demand. A threat. Proof that someone had tracked her location right to this mountain fortress. They knew exactly where she slept. Exactly whose bed she shared.

“They want a trade,” Silas said. His tone was dangerously calm, wrapping around every word. “You, in exchange for backing off old blood feuds.”

Snow’s head snapped up. “Me?”

“Seems everyone thinks you are my weakness now,” he bit out bitter and sharp. His sarcasm was nowhere to be found. “Clever of them. Annoying as hell for us.”

“I am not weakness,” she fired back angrily on her own behalf and something sharper still for his tone.

“You are exactly that to me, Snow,” he said, brutally honest. “Whether either of us likes it or not.”

The admission hung heavy thick in the quiet room. Snow stared at him, heart twisting in ways she refused to name. Before she could sort through the mess inside her own head, alarms blared loud and shrill all across the estate.

Silas moved in an instant. “Stay inside,” he ordered, sharp absolute. “Lock the door. Do not open it for anyone. Not even me unless I give the right two words.”

“Silas wait,” she started rising fast.

“No arguments,” he cut her off, already halfway out. “This is not about running errands or planting flowers, Snow. This is war. Stay safe. That is an order.”

Then he was gone.

Heavy footsteps thundered away down stone halls. Shouts rose up distant then closer fast. Gunfire cracked sharp and violent through the mountain air, shaking the very walls around her.

Snow locked the door as told but she did not sit still. She checked the windows. She saw men scaling walls. Saw guards fall and fight back.

Fear coiled tight in her gut but worse came when silence stretched too long after. Silas did not return.

When the door finally unlocked late that night, it was Silas leaning there battered, bloody and breathing hard. He looked ready to drop but stood straight still stubborn as stone. His coat hung torn open and dark red spread in too many places.

Snow flew across the room before she thought. “You are hurt.”

“Minor setbacks,” he rasped, leaning heavily on the frame with sarcasm thinner than usual but fighting hard to stay. “Someone really needs to work on their timing around here. Ruined a perfectly good coat too.”

She helped him stumble inside, shutting and bolting the door fast behind. “This is not minor, Silas. Look at you.”

“I look charming as always, I assume,” he grunted through a wince as she guided him toward the bedroom side table. “Just slightly more red than usual.”

“You are impossible,” she choked out while ripping cloth to press against the worst gash along his ribs. “Absolutely ridiculous.”

“Someone has to be,” he watched her anxious face then he smiled. His eyes fixed only on hers. “Keeps things interesting.”

“You are bleeding all over my clean floors,” she scolded, blinking back hot angry tears. “And the bed. Everything.”

“Charge it to my account,” he whispered, voice fading weaker for a heartbeat. “Everything goes to you anyway.”

She stilled, fingers pressed firm against his side. “Stop talking like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you might not come back.”

Silas lifted one hand. Slow and rough fingers brushing a stray hair back from her damp forehead. “I did not survive you patching me up once just to die before you finish hating me properly.”

He pulled her forward, sudden and firm before she could pull away. His mouth found hers slow this time, aching, deliberate and deep.

No accident. No teasing. Just raw, honest need tangled tight with every bruise and cut he carried. He kissed her like he had to memorize the shape of her while he still could. Like he needed her to know something words failed to say.

Snow kissed him back for one wild breathless moment. Then she shoved him away hard, heart racing furious and terrified all at once.

“Do not do that,” she hissed, wiping her mouth trembling all over. “Do not dare kiss me like that then go risk everything like it means nothing.”

“It means everything,” Silas answered quiet and rough. No joke. No sarcasm for once. “You know it.”

“I hate you,” she cried, voice breaking sharp and raw. “I hate that you go out there. I hate that you fight for me. I hate that you think you can decide what is dangerous alone. And most of all, I hate that you make me care.”

Silas reached out slow. His hand curling firm around hers, holding it tight against his chest right over his pounding heart. “Hatred is fine Snow. Hate me all you want. Just stay here long enough to see if it changes into something else.”