A LINE TOO CLOSE
756 Words
Sofia
The woman was beautiful.
That was the first thing Sofia thought—and immediately hated herself for thinking it.
She stood near the foot of the staircase, all sharp confidence and sleek elegance, her red dress clinging like it had been tailored to provoke a reaction. Her hand rested lightly on the railing, posture relaxed, as if she belonged here.
As if she had always belonged here.
Sofia’s steps slowed.
“So this is her.”
The words weren’t meant to be cruel, but they landed that way.
Sofia looked up. “Excuse me?”
The woman turned fully now, dark eyes sweeping over Sofia with open curiosity. Calculation. Recognition.
“You must be Sofia,” she said smoothly. “I’m Lucia.”
The name hit like a quiet explosion.
Lucia.
Alessio’s past. The one whispered about by guards who didn’t realize Sofia was listening.
“I didn’t know he’d brought you back into the house,” Sofia said carefully.
Lucia smiled. “He didn’t invite me. I came because someone tried to kill him.”
Her gaze sharpened. “And because you were standing next to him when it happened.”
Sofia stiffened. “What exactly are you implying?”
“That nothing in Alessio DeLuca’s life is accidental,” Lucia replied. “Especially not the women.”
Before Sofia could respond, heavy footsteps echoed behind her.
“Lucia,” Alessio’s voice cut in coldly. “You shouldn’t be here.”
Sofia turned.
He stood at the base of the stairs, his presence immediate and commanding despite the injury beneath his suit. His eyes flicked briefly to Sofia—checking, assessing—before returning to Lucia.
“You’re wounded,” Lucia said softly. “I heard.”
“I’ll live.”
Lucia stepped closer to him. Too close.
Sofia felt it then. Sharp. Unwelcome.
Jealousy.
⸻
Alessio
Alessio saw it instantly.
The tension in Sofia’s shoulders. The way her jaw set as Lucia stood within arm’s reach of him, familiarity threading her movements like muscle memory.
Lucia had always known how to push boundaries.
And Sofia… Sofia was learning where they were.
“This conversation is over,” Alessio said. “Marco will escort you out.”
Lucia laughed lightly. “Still giving orders. Some things never change.”
She leaned in, lowering her voice. “Be careful, Alessio. You bleed now. People will test that.”
Then her eyes slid to Sofia.
“Good luck,” Lucia added. “You’ll need it.”
She left without another word.
The silence she left behind was louder than any gunshot.
⸻
Sofia
“You didn’t tell me she was coming,” Sofia said once they were alone.
“I didn’t know she was,” Alessio replied.
“That didn’t look unfamiliar.”
He turned to her slowly. “Say what you mean.”
“I mean,” Sofia said, voice tight, “that she looks at you like you’re still hers.”
“And you look like you care,” he countered.
The words struck too close.
Sofia crossed her arms. “I care about my safety.”
“That’s not what I saw.”
“Then you’re seeing things.”
Alessio stepped closer.
“So are you,” he said quietly.
The space between them closed—not aggressively, not deliberately—but inevitably. She could feel the heat of him, the controlled restraint, the dangerous calm.
“You don’t get to feel jealous,” he said. “This marriage was never about that.”
“And you don’t get to decide what I feel,” she shot back.
His hand came up—paused—then settled at her waist, not possessive, not claiming.
Grounding.
“Listen to me,” he said. “Lucia is a threat. Not because of history—but because she knows how this world works.”
“And I don’t?” Sofia asked.
His eyes darkened. “You’re learning. And that makes you vulnerable.”
She tilted her head. “Or dangerous.”
A beat.
His thumb brushed once—once—against her side before he stepped back.
“Stay close to me tonight,” he said. “Not because I don’t trust you.”
“But because you don’t trust anyone else,” she finished.
“Yes.”
She hesitated, then nodded.
As they walked side by side down the hall, Sofia realized something unsettling.
The danger wasn’t just outside the mansion.
It was standing right next to her.
And she didn’t want to step away.
- Writer
- chap_listContents
- likeADD