Chapter 18: Beneath the Surface
732 Words
The first thing Sofia reached for wasn't her phone.
It was Marco's pendant.
The cool metal rested in her palm as she sat on the edge of the enormous bed.
For a fleeting moment, she imagined herself back in Florence.
The Bellini Gallery would already be opening.
Mrs. Ricci would be grumbling about the coffee.
A half-restored canvas would be waiting patiently beneath the warm light of her workstation.
Instead...
She was in the mansion of a mafia king.
Nothing about her life belonged to her anymore.
Her thumb brushed across the worn engraving on the pendant.
"I'll find the truth," she whispered.
Whether it led to Marco...
Or away from him.
---
The mansion was beginning to stir.
Servants moved quietly through the halls, careful not to disturb the morning calm.
Sofia wandered without purpose.
Old habits refused to leave her.
Every sculpture.
Every antique.
Every painting drew her attention.
As she turned a corner, her footsteps slowed.
Isabella.
The portrait overlooked the corridor just as it had the previous evening.
Yesterday, she had only seen a beautiful woman.
Today...
She saw herself.
The curve of the cheek.
The shape of the eyes.
Even the slight tilt of her head.
Her breath caught.
How had she missed it?
Her thoughts drifted to the diary she had found.
Not the entire entry.
Just one sentence that had lingered in the back of her mind ever since.
"Some truths should be uncovered slowly."
At the time, she hadn't understood it.
Now...
She wasn't sure she wanted to.
"I'm trying," she murmured to the portrait.
"But you're making it very difficult."
She tore her eyes away.
A few steps later, another painting caught her attention.
Unlike Isabella's portrait, this one irritated her immediately.
The varnish was wrong.
Far too glossy.
The cracks beneath the surface didn't belong to the visible paint.
Someone had altered it.
Not restored it.
Hidden it.
Without thinking, she leaned closer, studying every brushstroke.
"So..."
A familiar voice echoed behind her.
"Should I call the police?"
Sofia turned.
Matteo stood with his usual composed expression, a tablet tucked beneath one arm and a cup of espresso in the other.
She blinked.
"What?"
"You've been staring at that painting for three minutes."
He looked from her to the portrait.
"It seemed serious."
"It is serious."
She pointed toward the canvas.
"Someone committed a crime."
Matteo's hand instinctively moved toward the pistol beneath his jacket.
"Where?"
She stared at him.
"The painting."
A beat of silence.
Matteo slowly lowered his hand.
"...I walked into that one."
Despite everything...
Sofia laughed.
A real laugh.
Warm.
Unexpected.
It echoed through the quiet corridor.
Matteo looked faintly pleased with himself.
"You did that on purpose."
"I'll never admit it."
She shook her head, smiling.
"This painting has been painted over."
"It still looks expensive."
"That's not the point."
"I know."
He studied it for another second.
"I just wanted to make sure I was looking at the right victim."
She laughed again.
This time even harder.
For a brief moment...
The weight she had been carrying became just a little lighter.
At the end of the corridor...
Luca had been on his way to a meeting.
The laughter stopped him in his tracks.
He had almost forgotten what it sounded like.
He turned the corner just enough to see them.
Matteo.
Standing perfectly still.
Sofia laughing beside him.
His first thought wasn't jealousy.
It was disbelief.
Since when did Matteo make jokes?
Matteo noticed him first.
His expression immediately returned to its usual professionalism.
Sofia followed his gaze.
The laughter faded from her face.
Luca felt something tighten in his chest.
Not because she had laughed with Matteo.
Because she had stopped laughing when she saw him.
He pushed the feeling aside.
"You found something."
Sofia nodded.
She glanced once more at the altered painting before reaching into her pocket.
Marco's pendant rested in her hand.
She walked toward Luca and placed it gently in his palm.
"I think..."
Her voice was quieter now.
"...it's time you told me about him."
Luca looked down at the pendant.
The room seemed to grow still.
For a long moment, he said nothing.
Then he looked back at Sofia.
"Come with me."
No excuses.
No half-truths.
No orders.
Just an invitation.
For the first time...
He wasn't asking Sofia to trust him.
He was asking her to listen.
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