Chapter 2
1348 Words
Matteo
I know fear.
I have spent most of my life creating it in other people.
I know the difference between fake fear and real fear. Some people act terrified because they want mercy. Others do it because they think weakness will save them.
But Isabella Romano is different.
The fear in her eyes is old.
It follows her even when nobody is touching her.
That bruise on her wrist stays in my head long after I leave her room.
I walk downstairs while rain continues hitting the windows of the mansion. The house is quiet except for the guards near the entrance. Enzo sits on one of the couches in the living room drinking whiskey like he owns the place.
He looks up when he sees me.
“So,” he says, “are we killing the judge’s daughter or keeping her?”
I ignore the question and grab a glass from the table nearby.
“She stays.”
Enzo laughs once. “That bad, huh?”
“She witnessed the execution.”
“That never stopped you before.”
I pour whiskey into the glass slowly. “Her father is Vincent Romano.”
That gets his attention immediately.
Enzo leans forward. “You think this is connected?”
“I think nothing yet.”
But I do.
Nothing involving Vincent Romano is ever simple.
The man destroyed half my father’s businesses years ago while pretending to be some kind of hero for the city. Meanwhile, everyone knows judges don’t become that powerful without blood somewhere on their hands.
Enzo studies me carefully.
“You looked at her too long upstairs.”
I finally glance at him.
“She’s terrified.”
“And?”
“And it’s strange.”
He snorts. “You kidnapped her after she watched you kill someone. Of course she’s terrified.”
No.
This is different.
I grew up around violence. I know what fear caused by violence looks like. Isabella reacts before anyone even raises their voice. She flinches when doors close too loudly. When one of the guards walked past her upstairs earlier, she moved away automatically without even realizing it.
Like she expected to be hurt.
I empty the whiskey glass.
“She had bruises.”
Enzo’s expression hardens slightly.
“From who?”
“I don’t know.”
But I already have a guess.
Vincent Romano smiles too much in public. Men like that usually hide ugly things behind closed doors.
Before I can think further, footsteps echo from the staircase.
Sofia appears wearing silk pajamas and looking half asleep. Her eyes move between me and Enzo immediately.
“What happened?”
“Nothing,” I answer.
“That means something definitely happened.”
She notices the blood still staining my hand and sighs. “Wonderful. Another relaxing family evening.”
Enzo grins.
Sofia walks closer before stopping suddenly.
“There’s someone upstairs.”
I say nothing.
Her eyes narrow. “Matteo.”
“She’s staying temporarily.”
“She?”
I regret speaking already.
Sofia crosses her arms. “Who is she?”
“Isabella Romano.”
Silence fills the room.
Then Sofia laughs softly like she cannot believe what she just heard.
“You brought Judge Romano’s daughter into this house?”
“She witnessed something.”
“And instead of solving the problem normally, you brought her home?”
Enzo looks entertained now.
I already regret this entire night.
Sofia studies my face carefully before speaking again. “Why?”
“She knows nothing.”
“Then why is she here?”
Because when I looked at her in that alley, she didn’t look dangerous.
She looked trapped.
I hate that thought immediately.
“She stays until I decide otherwise,” I say coldly.
Sofia stares at me for another second before shaking her head. “You’re becoming emotional. That’s dangerous.”
Then she walks away.
Enzo stands too.
“I’ll have someone look into the bruises,” he says quietly before leaving the room.
Soon, I’m alone again.
But not really.
My thoughts keep returning upstairs.
I eventually head toward my office, but halfway down the hallway, I hear something crash above me.
I stop instantly.
Another sound follows.
A frightened gasp.
I reach Isabella’s room within seconds and open the door hard enough for it to slam against the wall.
She stands near the bed breathing unevenly while a broken glass lies on the floor beside her.
The second she sees me, she backs away fast.
Too fast.
Her foot catches against the rug and she nearly falls before grabbing the edge of the dresser.
I stare at her.
She stares back like I’m about to kill her.
“It was an accident,” she whispers quickly.
I look at the broken glass.
Then at her shaking hands.
“You thought I’d hurt you over that?”
Her silence answers her.
Something ugly twists inside my chest.
I closed the door behind me carefully this time.
“You need to stop looking at me like that.”
Her eyes widened slightly. “Like what?”
“Like I’m going to hit you.”
The room goes silent.
She looks away immediately.
That tells me enough.
I walk closer slowly this time. She stiffens anyway.
“Who hurt you, Isabella?”
“Nobody.”
“Lying badly won’t help you here.”
Her breathing becomes uneven again. “I want to go home.”
“No.”
Tears gather in her eyes instantly, but she blinks them away quickly like she’s ashamed of them.
Interesting.
Most people cry openly when they’re scared.
She looks embarrassed by it.
“My father will be worried.”
I almost laughed at that.
A man like Vincent Romano does not worry. He controls.
“Your father hasn’t called once.”
That gets her attention.
She stares at me in confusion. “What?”
“You’ve been here for hours.”
A normal father would already have police searching the city.
Vincent Romano has done nothing.
I watch the realization slowly settle across her face.
“He’s probably busy,” she whispers weakly.
I know denial when I hear it.
Before I can answer, her stomach growls softly.
She immediately looks horrified.
I almost smile.
Almost.
“When did you last eat?”
“I’m fine.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
She hesitates. “This morning.”
Anger flashes through me unexpectedly.
It’s past midnight.
I move toward the door.
Her voice stops me.
“Where are you going?”
“To get food.”
“You don’t have to.”
I glance back at her. “You look like you might faint.”
Embarrassment covers her face again.
I leave before she can argue further.
Fifteen minutes later, I returned carrying a tray from the kitchen.
She looks shocked.
“You actually came back.”
The words hit strangely.
I set the tray down near the bed.
“Eat.”
She sits carefully on the edge of the mattress before touching the tea cup first like she’s checking whether it’s real.
Then she starts eating slowly.
Too slowly.
Like she’s used to making herself small even while doing something simple.
I lean against the wall watching her quietly.
After several minutes, she finally speaks again.
“Why are you doing this?”
“Doing what?”
“This.” She gestures weakly around the room. “You kidnapped me, but you’re acting…” She stops herself.
“Acting how?”
Her fingers tighten around the fork.
“Not cruel.”
The honesty surprises me.
I study her face for a long moment before answering.
“You haven’t given me a reason to be cruel yet.”
Her eyes finally lift fully to mine.
And for the first time since entering this house, Isabella Romano looks at me with something other than fear.
Confusion.
Then a knock suddenly sounds against the door.
One of my guards speaks from outside.
“Boss,” he says carefully, “Judge Romano is here.”
And beside me, Isabella goes completely pale.
- Writer
