Chapter Seven - The Contract
1048 Words
Sofia didn’t realize she was smiling until she caught her reflection in the driver’s side window.
It disappeared almost as quickly as it came.
She touched her lips lightly, surprised.
When had she started smiling?
At the piano?
When Nick made her laugh?
Or when, for the first time in her life, someone had asked about her instead of what she could do?
She couldn’t pinpoint the moment.
She only knew she dreaded returning to the estate.
Because somehow…
It already felt smaller than it had a few hours ago.
⸻
The wrought-iron gates opened as her car approached.
The Moretti estate stood in perfect silence, illuminated by carefully placed landscape lights that made it look elegant from a distance.
Beautiful.
Until you lived inside it.
She stepped through the front door, slipping off her heels before walking across the marble floor.
The house was quiet.
Too quiet.
One of the household staff appeared from the hallway.
“Miss Moretti.”
Sofia stopped.
“Your father is waiting in his study.”
Of course he was.
Her two days weren’t over.
Yet somehow…
She had known they would end early.
⸻
Vittorio stood exactly where she expected him to be.
Behind his desk.
Hands clasped behind his back.
A crystal decanter rested untouched beside him.
His eyes moved slowly over her.
The emerald dress.
The loose curls.
The subtle makeup.
For a long moment…
He said nothing.
“You look different.”
It wasn’t a compliment.
Sofia kept her posture straight.
“You told me to enjoy my time.”
“I did.”
His gaze remained fixed on her.
“And did you?”
The question caught her off guard.
She considered giving the expected answer.
Instead…
“Yes.”
His expression didn’t change.
“What did you do?”
“I went to a piano bar.”
“Alone?”
“Yes.”
“What else?”
“I listened to music.”
His eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly.
“And?”
“I talked to someone.”
Silence.
Heavy.
Measured.
Vittorio walked around the desk slowly.
“A man?”
Sofia nodded once.
“Yes.”
“What was his name?”
“Nick.”
Vittorio’s face remained unreadable.
“Last name?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did he want?”
“Nothing.”
A faint smile tugged at Vittorio’s lips.
“Men always want something.”
“He didn’t.”
“No?”
“He bought me a drink.”
“And?”
“He listened.”
That answer lingered between them.
Long enough for Vittorio to recognize something he hadn’t expected.
His daughter had enjoyed herself.
That was dangerous.
Not because of the man.
Because she had experienced a life outside his control.
He couldn’t allow that feeling to grow.
“It won’t happen again,” he said quietly.
Sofia frowned.
“What won’t?”
“This.”
He gestured toward her.
“The dress.”
“The music.”
“The conversations.”
“Your vacation is over.”
She felt disappointment settle inside her.
Unexpectedly sharp.
“Yes, Father.”
“Come.”
He walked toward a hidden door behind the bookcase.
She followed without question.
The room beyond was unlike the elegant study.
Cold.
Windowless.
Functional.
Maps covered one wall.
Photographs another.
Weapons locked behind reinforced glass.
This wasn’t his office.
It was his war room.
Vittorio pressed a button.
A digital display illuminated.
One photograph slowly appeared.
A man.
Dark hair.
Hazel eyes.
Strong jaw.
Rolled-up sleeves.
A calm smile.
Sofia’s breath caught.
Nick.
The man from the piano bar.
For one impossible second, she wondered if there had been some mistake.
Vittorio noticed the flicker in her expression.
“You’ve seen him before.”
Not a question.
A statement.
Sofia recovered instantly.
“At the bar.”
“When?”
“Tonight.”
“Did he recognize you?”
“I don’t believe so.”
“Did you tell him your last name?”
“No.”
“What did you tell him?”
“My first name.”
Vittorio considered that.
Then nodded once.
“Good.”
He enlarged the photograph.
“Dominic Russo.”
The name meant nothing.
She had only known him as Nick.
“He is the head of the Russo family.”
Everything inside her went still.
The owner.
The man who’d bought her a drink.
Who’d asked nothing from her.
Who’d listened.
“He’s been collecting information against us for years.”
Financial records filled the screen.
Photographs.
Documents.
Wire transfers.
“If those files become public…”
Vittorio’s voice hardened.
“…everything we’ve built disappears.”
“So kill him,” Sofia said automatically.
“I’ve tried.”
He looked directly into her eyes.
“Everyone else has failed.”
Silence.
Then he slid a slim folder across the steel table.
“This assignment belongs to you.”
Sofia rested her fingertips on the folder.
It felt heavier than paper should.
“You will gain his trust.”
“You will discover where the archive is hidden.”
“And then…”
His voice became ice.
“…you will kill Dominic Russo.”
Sofia opened the folder.
Inside were photographs of Nick entering restaurants.
Leaving meetings.
Reading on a park bench.
Talking with children at a charity event.
None of them looked like a monster.
None of them looked like the ruthless mafia boss she’d expected.
Instead…
They looked like the man who had noticed she was staring at a piano.
Who had bought a stranger a drink simply because everyone deserved one good evening.
Her father’s voice cut through her thoughts.
“Do you understand your assignment?”
Sofia closed the folder.
Every lesson.
Every year of training.
Every scar on her body.
All of it demanded the same answer.
“Yes, Father.”
Vittorio smiled.
“I knew I could count on you.”
As she left the war room, the folder tucked beneath her arm, one thought refused to leave her.
Nick had looked her in the eyes.
He had been kind to her.
If he truly was the enemy…
Why hadn’t he looked like one?
And for the first time since she was a little girl…
Sofia walked toward an assignment hoping she would fail.
- Writer
