Chapter Thirteen
872 Words
FIONA POV
The Valerio estate was nothing like Fiona imagined.
It wasn’t a mansion—
it was a fortress draped in luxury.
Black marble floors.
Gold-trimmed walls.
Guards posted at every hallway like statues with beating hearts.
The Valerio mansion felt like a palace carved out of shadows and money. Expensive, cold, and too quiet. Fiona walked beside her mother through the vast foyer, trying not to shake.
Zara wasn’t here this time—she wasn’t invited.
This dinner was strictly *family*, and Fiona felt more alone than she ever had in her life.
But her advice echoed in her mind.
*He doesn’t know. He can’t know. Breathe.*
But it was impossible.
Every time she inhaled, she felt his stare burning between her shoulder blades.
Her mother whispered, “Smile, sweetheart. We want to make a good impression.”
Fiona tried. She really did.
But her stomach twisted, and dizziness kept nipping at her vision.
She hadn’t eaten all day. She was nervous. She was pregnant. She was terrified.
And then she saw him.
Alistair Valerio didn’t look at her like a soon-to-be stepbrother.
He looked at her like a man who had touched her skin, tasted her breath, and remembered every second of it.
And he wasn’t letting it go.
“Fiona,” her mother called, smiling brightly. “Stay close. Mr. Valerio wants to show you the gardens later.”
*Gardens.*
Fiona wanted to laugh.
This house didn’t feel like it grew flowers—it felt like it buried secrets.
She nodded weakly, but her eyes drifted sideways.
Alistair was leaning against the railing of the staircase, watching her with a slow, deliberate intensity. His arms were folded, muscles tense beneath his shirt. His expression was unreadable but dangerous.
Like a man planning something.
Like a man who never forgot a sin.
ALISTAIR POV
She was trying to avoid him.
Cute.
Fiona Lewis moved through the house like a startled fawn, refusing to meet his gaze, pretending she didn’t remember the feel of his hands on her hips.
But Alistair remembered.
He remembered everything.
And he wasn’t a man who let things slip away.
She was hiding something—he felt it like heat radiating off her skin. Her eyes darted too quickly, her breathing was too shallow, her fingers trembled whenever he stepped near.
Fear.
Guilt.
Secrets.
All three clung to her like perfume, and Alistair had spent years in the mafia syndicate learning to read people like books he could burn.
He descended the stairs slowly, deliberately.
One way or another, he would get the truth out of her.
FIONA POV
Her mother and Adrian wandered off to inspect the dining hall, leaving Fiona alone in the hallway.
Alone.
Exposed.
She turned quickly, intending to flee toward the guest rooms, but she didn’t make it two steps before a hand shot out and braced the wall beside her head—blocking her path, caging her in.
She froze.
The scent hit her first—clean woodsmoke and something dark, something male.
Then his voice, low and razor-sharp:
“Running already?”
Fiona’s breath hitched. She pressed her back to the wall, her pulse pounding violently.
“Alistair, we shouldn’t—”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he whispered, leaning in dangerously close.
Her heart stopped. “T-Tell you what?”
His eyes narrowed.
“You know exactly what I mean.”
Her fingers curled against her dress. She tried to turn, to slip past him, but he stepped into her path, his body shielding her from the empty hallway.
“You disappear after one night,” he said softly, “then you show up in my father’s house pretending we don’t know each other.”
“I didn’t know,” she whispered. “I swear. I didn’t know you were a Valerio.”
“Unfortunate coincidence,” he murmured. “For both of us.”
She swallowed hard. “Please… just let this go. It was a mistake.”
His jaw clenched, eyes darkening.
“Is that what you think it was?”
Fiona said nothing.
Alistair leaned in, lips brushing her ear.
“No mistakes feel like that, Fiona.”
Her knees weakened.
She pushed lightly at his chest. “Stop. This can’t happen. Our parents—”
“Don’t care,” he cut in. “And neither do I.”
“You should,” she whispered. “For your family. For your reputation.”
But this time… something flickered in his eyes.
A colder, harsher truth.
“My reputation was ruined the day I entered the Valerio syndicate,” he said. “You think I care about rules or bloodlines?”
He stepped back only slightly—enough to let her breathe, but not escape.
“You’re hiding something,” he said quietly. “And I’m going to find out what it is.”
Fear rippled through her.
If he found out…
If the mafia syndicate found out…
Her child wouldn’t be safe.
She swallowed, voice trembling. “Alistair, please—”
He cupped her chin gently but firmly, forcing her gaze up to his.
“What are you afraid of?” he whispered.
“Everything,” she breathed.
And it was the truth
- Writer
