chapter 8
1691 Words
Chapter 8.
NEW HOME, NEW RULES.
——♣——
Angelo hadn't slept, not even close. Not because his brothers had followed him home after the wedding and annoyed him through the night, but because of the woman downstairs.
How could he sleep when she was sleeping soundly in his bed. Even the thought of it irritated him more than it should. So instead of sleeping, he had spent the entire night exactly where he should've.
In the darkness of his office.
His private office on the upper level of the estate was a room that most people in the building didn't even know existed. One that held nothing but peace and quiet, the kind that a man like him needed after getting married.
Millicent Romano.
“No,” he shook his head.
Millicent De Angelis.
His jaw tightened at the thought as he diverted his gaze back to the tablet in front of him.
Once his ex lover and now she's right under his roof. He couldn't pin it but something about her made him feel cautious. Not just because of their shared past but because he knew she hadn't been sent here for peace.
He was certain of it.
The same way he was certain of everything that mattered; not through evidence alone, but through instinct from years of surviving people who wanted him dead.
The Red Devils didn't make peace offerings, they only made calculations. And sending one of their own into the heart of his empire?
That was not diplomacy. That was infiltration.
And now the question wasn't whether she had a mission.
The question was what it was. And more importantly, how he was going to find out.
As he was still running through the possibilities, the door to his office opened without a knock. And even though the entry had been unexpected, Angelo didn't need to look up because only three people in his estate had the audacity to do so.
"You look terrible," Aurelio said, stepping inside and closing the door behind him.
"Good morning to you too," he replied flatly, eyes still on the screens.
Aurelio crossed the room and raised the empty coffee mug from the desk. "You've been here all night?”
"Didn't have any choice."
“Why?” he huffed a laugh. “Too resisting or you can't handle being around her.”
Angelo paused, staring up at his usually quiet brother who was now starting to behave in ways that surprisingly amused him. “I can see Ariel has gotten into you,” he laughed. “But you can't rile me up that easily.”
Aurelio gave a cheeky grin. “Worth a shot.” Then he paused, “But seriously, if I hadn't known you so well, I'd say you have a beef with your wife.”
Angelo froze.
“Why do you say that?”
“Well,” Aurelio began, looking into the distant space as if to state the obvious fact. “Your expression changed when you raised her veil, you both acted strange, and you were extremely harsh during the dance,” he finished, giving Angelo a pointed look.
Angelo tried to mask his surprise.
“Well, you're just overthinking things. I don't have any ‘beef’ with her. I'm just being careful,” he said slowly, careful enough not to spill anything.
For a brief moment, he'd forgotten how observant his brother was, and he knew if they found out about his shared past with Millicent, they'd never let him breathe.
Literally.
“Which is why you're watching her feeds?” Aurelio teased.
"I'm watching all the feeds." He leaned back in his chair, finally looking at his brother.
"She came here with something. I don't know what it is yet. But she didn't walk into this marriage blindly. Nobody from that family does anything without a reason."
Especially someone like her. To think he never knew she was in the mafia.
Aurelio studied him for a moment. "You think Salvatore sent her with a mission?"
"I know he did." He turned back to the screens. "I just need to find out what it is before she can execute it."
Aurelio pulled out the chair opposite him and sat. "Well, worry not. I have everything under control. I've already told Amedeo to dig into her, by today we ought to get news.”
“You've already started looking into her? When?” He asked, surprised.
“At the wedding, when I was watching you both. I know you don't act that way without a reason, so I decided to dig if she could be a potential threat,” Aurelio said silently.
But before he could respond, the door opened again.
“About time,” Aurelio muttered beneath his breath at the entrance of Amedeo who entered with a laptop already open in one hand, and a cup of coffee in the other because of course he had coffee when nobody else did.
He dropped into the remaining chair without invitation, set his laptop on the desk, and turned the screen to face them both.
“Morning, morning. Without formalities, I'll get straight to the point because I have somewhere to be at,” he said hastily, whilst typing.
“Were you able to pick anything up?” Aurelio asked.
"Well, I've already pulled her digital profile," he said. "Her social footprint is surprisingly thin for someone her age. She's careful. Either naturally private or deliberately scrubbed." He tapped the screen. "Either way, it tells us something."
Angelo looked at the screen. "What else?"
“That's all I've got.”
“Since we haven't been able to pick up something strong,” Aurelio cleared his throat. “I suggest you assign private guards, she won't know they're there. Every move she makes, every person she contacts, every room she lingers in two seconds longer than necessary will let us know what exactly Salvatore is planning."
Angelo didn't hesitate. "Do it. Tell Matteo to assign guards to her.”
“On it,” Amedeo nodded, then paused, glancing between them. "And inside the estate?"
As if on cue, the moment he spoke, the door swung open for the third time. Wider and more dramatic this time, because everything Ariel did was more dramatic than necessary.
He whistled, leaning against the doorframe in a slim black shirt and trousers, with arms folded.
"Heard my name," he said casually.
"We didn't say your name," Aurelio replied.
"I heard it spiritually." He pushed off the doorframe and strolled inside, dropping onto the armrest of Aurelio's chair because there was nowhere else to sit and personal space was a concept Ariel had never fully respected. "So. The wife." He tilted his head. "What's the plan?"
Angelo looked at him. "You've been eavesdropping?”
Ariel shrugged.
“Well, she can't know she's being watched externally. But inside the estate, she needs eyes."
Ariel's mouth curved slowly. "I'll handle that."
"You." Aurelio said flatly.
"Yes. Me," Ariel confirmed, completely unbothered. "You may have not noticed, but people talk when they feel comfortable."
Amedeo glanced up from his screen. "And if she doesn't talk?"
"Everyone talks eventually," Ariel said simply. "You just have to make them forget they're being listened to."
Angelo studied his youngest brother for a moment. Behind the lazy posture and the easy grin was a mind that operated like a blade. Patient, precise, and entirely without mercy when it needed to be. IL serpente. The serpent. There was a reason they called him that.
"Fine," he said, rising from his desk. "I'll speak to her myself.”
Just as he reached the handle of his door, Amedeo called out. “And Angelo?”
He paused.
“Please don't assign me to baby politicians again,” he whined much to the amusement of Aurelio and Ariel who barked out a laugh.
*Coglione*
“I'll keep that in mind,” he laughed, closing the door shut behind him.
As he walked through the estate, it didn't take long before he found Millicent on the east terrace.
She was seated at the breakfast table. And even though she heard him approach, she pretended not to.
He pulled out the chair opposite her and sat, an action which made her finally look at him with those green eyes.
Shut up.
"Good morning," she said, perfectly pleasant.
He didn't return the greeting.
"There are things you need to understand about this estate," he said, his voice quiet and unhurried in the most dangerous tone he owned. "Consider this your only briefing. I won't repeat myself."
He held up one finger. "The west wing is off limits. You don't go there, you don't walk near there,” he paused, voice dropping lower.
“And If I find you in that part of the estate, we'll have a very different conversation than this one. The only placed you're allowed to be is somewhere within my sight,” he said, watching her expression that looked as though she had something to say but couldn't.
Good.
Second finger. "You don't speak to my men about family business. You don't ask questions about operations nor listen to conversations that aren't meant for you. You are my wife in name and in appearance only."
Still nothing. That composure was beginning to irritate him.
"Publicly," he continued, "You will present yourself as expected. And note that whatever your family sent you here to do, you'll find there is no space for it here."
He leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping much lower.
"This is not a home, Millicent. It is my territory. And you are a guest whose welcome has very specific conditions." Angelo paused, watching her eyes widen with fear that she hastily concealed.
"Do you understand?"
"I understand.”
He rose from the chair, buttoned his jacket and turned to leave.
Behind him, he heard nothing. Not a sharp intake of breath, not a muttered curse, not the scrape of a chair being pushed back in frustration.
Just silence.
And for reasons he refused to examine, that bothered him the most. Because silence only meant one thing… plotting.
- Writer
