Chapter Six
725 Words
Cassian
Sleep had become a luxury years ago.
Cassian stood on the balcony outside his penthouse office, the cool night air barely cutting through the noise in his mind. The city stretched beneath him, alive with lights and endless movement.
Somewhere out there, Isabella Romano was living her life.
Completely unaware that every move she made was being documented.
The thought should have satisfied him.
Instead, it unsettled him.
The balcony door slid open behind him.
"You've been avoiding me."
Cassian didn't turn around.
"I've been busy."
Luca stepped beside him, resting his forearms on the railing.
"You met her."
"I did."
"And?"
Cassian remained silent.
Luca let out a quiet laugh.
"I've known you for twenty years. That silence tells me more than words ever could."
Cassian finally looked at him.
"She isn't what I expected."
"No?"
"No."
Luca reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and handed over another surveillance folder.
"Our team followed her after she left the café."
Cassian opened it.
Photographs.
Isabella laughing with another student.
Walking into a bookstore.
Helping an elderly man carry groceries across the street.
Leaving with nothing but a small paperback tucked beneath her arm.
"What did she buy?"
Luca checked his notes.
"'The Little Prince.'"
Cassian looked up.
"She already owns a copy."
Luca smiled.
"How do you know that?"
"It was on her bookshelf."
Luca's expression slowly changed.
"You've memorized her apartment?"
Cassian closed the folder.
"I memorize details."
"That's different."
"Is it?"
Luca didn't answer.
Because it was.
The following afternoon...
Isabella pushed open the door to Bellucci Books, the tiny independent bookstore she'd visited since she was fifteen.
The familiar scent of old pages and fresh coffee wrapped around her instantly.
"You're late."
Mr. Bellucci looked up from behind the register.
"I know."
"The mystery man delayed you?"
She froze.
"What?"
He laughed.
"You've been smiling since you walked in."
"I always smile."
"Not like that."
Heat crept into her cheeks.
"There isn't a mystery man."
"So there is a man."
She groaned.
"I walked right into that one."
"You certainly did."
She wandered toward the fiction section, shaking her head.
Adrian.
She barely knew him.
Yet she'd caught herself wondering if she'd see him again.
Ridiculous.
She didn't even know his last name.
Across the street...
A black sedan idled quietly.
Marco lowered his binoculars.
"She's inside."
Cassian sat in the back seat.
"Anyone else?"
"No."
Cassian looked through the bookstore window.
She was smiling again.
Running her fingers across the spines of old novels.
Completely absorbed.
"What kind of woman spends two hours in a bookstore?" Marco muttered.
"The right kind," Cassian replied before he could stop himself.
Marco slowly turned toward him.
Cassian didn't acknowledge the comment.
Neither of them spoke again.
Inside the bookstore...
A thick novel slipped from the top shelf.
Before Isabella could reach it, another hand caught it first.
She looked up.
Gray eyes.
Dark hair.
The same calm expression.
Adrian.
A surprised smile spread across her face.
"I guess you really do appear everywhere."
He glanced at the book in his hand.
"Or maybe we just read the same authors."
She laughed softly.
"That's a much less dramatic explanation."
He handed her the novel.
"Our last meeting ended rather abruptly."
"It did."
"I never got to replace your coffee."
She tilted her head.
"You don't owe me coffee."
"Maybe I want one."
She studied him for a moment.
There was something guarded about him.
Like every word had been carefully chosen before it left his mouth.
Most people filled silence because they were uncomfortable.
Adrian seemed perfectly at home in it.
"I have about twenty minutes before I need to leave."
"Twenty minutes is enough."
She smiled.
"I suppose coffee wouldn't hurt."
Across the street, Marco reached for his phone.
"Luca."
"They're together again."
A pause.
"This time..."
Marco watched the pair leave the bookstore side by side.
"...it definitely wasn't an accident."
Silence.
Then Luca spoke quietly.
"Tell the men to stand down."
Marco frowned.
"What?"
"If Mr. Moretti wants to spend time with her..."
"...he doesn't need us following."
Marco stared through the windshield.
For the first time in years...
Cassian Moretti wasn't chasing revenge.
He was chasing a woman.
And neither of them realized someone in the black sedan parked two cars behind them had just taken their photograph.
- Writer
