FRACTURED TRUST

Cleo’s POV

The Paris morning was calm, a soft light spilling into the room, bathing everything in a warm glow that felt almost surreal after the stormy night. I stood at the window, trying to gather my thoughts, but they kept drifting back to Russo and the unexpected vulnerability I had seen in him. Last night, I’d seen a side of him that he kept hidden from the world, a side that reminded me he wasn’t just the ruthless mafia boss who had trapped me in this twisted marriage. He was also a man haunted by his past, much like me.

As much as I wanted to keep my anger and distrust intact, the image of him lost in his nightmare, sweating and mumbling in fear, had cracked something inside me. It was easier to hate him when he was nothing more than a cold-hearted manipulator. But now? Now I wasn’t sure what to feel. And that scared me more than anything.

Russo moved beside me, standing close enough that I could feel the heat of his presence but not touching me. I could sense his eyes on me,