Chapter Six
858 Words
The days that followed moved like smoke—thick, slow, suffocating.
Elena couldn't shake the image.
Elara's photo. Her smile. Her threat.
And worse than the picture was the part of her that believed it. The part of her that wondered if Vincent did want her. Still touched her. Still thought about her in the dark.
But when Elena had thrown that evidence at him… he hadn't begged. He hadn't panicked.
He'd vowed to destroy her.
Not just for lying—but for targeting Elena.
That part kept circling in Elena’s mind like a hawk.
> “I protect what’s mine.”
Was that possessiveness?
Or something more dangerous?
---
Three nights later, Elena couldn’t sleep.
Her room in the estate was too cold. Too quiet. Her thoughts were a storm and Vincent Russo was the eye of it.
So she wandered.
Slipped out of the Romano mansion under the guard’s lazy eye and ordered a car. She didn’t even have to type the address—his estate was already in her history.
She didn’t know why she was going.
Only that she needed answers.
And maybe… something else.
---
It was past midnight when she arrived at the Russo mansion.
No driver. No lights. No press.
Just her and the cold, steel gate.
She stepped out, arms crossed against the breeze, and waited.
A camera above the intercom tilted toward her. A second later, the gates creaked open.
He was watching.
Of course he was.
---
Vincent was in the main hallway, shirt unbuttoned halfway, sleeves rolled up. His tattooed forearms flexed as he scrolled through a thick file in one hand, a glass of whiskey in the other.
He looked like sin wrapped in power.
When he saw her, his brows lifted.
“Elena,” he said slowly. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
She stepped inside, her heart beating faster than she liked.
“I couldn’t sleep.”
He tilted his head. “So you came to me?”
“I came for the truth,” she snapped.
He set the file down and closed the distance between them. “What truth are you looking for tonight?”
“Did you love her?” she asked, surprising even herself with the question.
“Elara?” His voice was flat. “Once. A long time ago.”
“And now?”
He stepped closer, eyes fixed on hers. “Now I want her gone.”
“Why?”
“Because she threatened you.”
The air between them crackled. Elena’s chest rose and fell, heart hammering.
“You hate me,” she whispered.
“No,” he said. “I fear you.”
She blinked. “What?”
Vincent’s voice dropped. “You’re the one woman I can’t control. I can’t scare. And every time I try to draw a line between us, you cross it.”
She didn’t know if it was the tension, the late hour, or the fact that she hadn’t stopped thinking about him for days—but her hands moved on their own, grabbing the front of his shirt.
“You confuse me,” she breathed.
“And you infuriate me,” he growled back.
Before she could think—
His mouth crashed down on hers.
The kiss wasn’t soft. It wasn’t gentle. It was war.
Heat. Teeth. Tongues. Fire in every breath.
Vincent’s hand slid around her waist, pulling her flush against him. Her fingers gripped his collar as he backed her against the wall, devouring her like he was starving.
She didn’t push him away.
She kissed him harder.
Because she hated how good it felt.
How right it felt.
---
But just as quickly as it started, he pulled back.
Breathing hard. Cursing under his breath.
“This is a mistake,” he said.
“Then why did you do it?” she whispered.
He looked at her like she was the only thing that made sense and the one thing that could destroy him.
“Because I’m tired of pretending I don’t want you.”
Elena’s lips parted, stunned.
“But,” he added, stepping back, “this doesn’t change what we are. The engagement is still a deal. You still don’t trust me.”
“And you still keep secrets,” she snapped.
He didn’t deny it.
---
The next morning, Vincent stood on the rooftop balcony of his estate, phone pressed to his ear.
“She made contact,” he told someone. “Sent Elena the photo. You were right—she’s accelerating.”
A voice crackled on the other end. “Do you want us to handle it?”
“No,” he said coldly. “Not yet. I want her to think she’s winning.”
“But what about Elena?”
Vincent’s eyes darkened as he looked out over the horizon.
“Elena is different,” he said. “She’s not just part of the plan anymore.”
He hung up.
Because for the first time, the man who swore never to love, never to need, never to feel—was caught in a trap he couldn’t walk away from.
- Writer
