chapter 9

It was another quiet day in the Moretti mansion—quiet in the way that made my skin crawl. The workers scurried around like mice, careful not to disturb the unspoken rules of this place. I sat in the sunlit sitting room with a book, though I’d read the same paragraph three times and still had no idea what it said. My thoughts kept wandering back to Alaric. He’d been distant, cold, and yet I couldn’t stop feeling the pull toward him. Something about him made my heart race, even though my brain screamed to stay far away.

The door creaked open, and my head snapped up. One of the maids poked her head in timidly. “Mrs. Moretti,” she said, her voice soft. “We’ve prepared tea in the dining room. Mr. Moretti has a guest, and he’s requested your presence.”

A guest? My stomach twisted. What kind of guest? Mafia men? Business associates? I forced myself to nod and put down the book. My body still felt off—hot and restless, like I couldn’t get comfortable no matter what I did.

I followed the maid down the long hallway, my heels clicking against the polished floors. The dining room doors were open, and the first thing I noticed was the smell of cigar smoke. My eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room, and there he was—Alaric, sitting at the head of the table, dressed in his usual black suit. His presence filled the room, but today, he wasn’t alone.

The man sitting to his right was older, with a thick beard and sharp, calculating eyes. He wasn’t as polished as Alaric—his suit a little too tight, his tie slightly askew—but there was something about him that screamed danger. As I stepped into the room, his eyes snapped to me, and an unsettling smile spread across his face.

“And who is this?” the man asked, his voice dripping with curiosity.

Alaric’s gaze flicked to me, his expression unreadable. “My wife,” he said simply.

The words still made my stomach turn. Wife. I wasn’t his wife in any sense of the word, but that didn’t stop the man’s eyes from roaming over me like I was something to be appraised.

“Well, well,” the man said, leaning back in his chair. “You’ve outdone yourself, Alaric. She’s beautiful.”

I wanted to shrink under his gaze, but instead, I lifted my chin and forced a smile. I wouldn’t let this creep see my discomfort.

“Thank you,” I said, my voice steady.

The man chuckled, and it was the kind of laugh that made my skin crawl. “She’s got fire. I like that.”

Alaric didn’t respond, but I noticed the way his jaw tightened. The tension in the room was thick, suffocating.

“Why don’t you sit?” Alaric said, his voice low.

I hesitated but pulled out the chair furthest from the man and sat down. The maid appeared with tea, setting the tray in front of me. I busied myself with pouring a cup, hoping to avoid the man’s lingering gaze.

“She doesn’t look like your usual type,” the man said, breaking the silence. “I’ve always thought you preferred women who... follow orders.”

I froze, my hand gripping the teapot. Was that a jab at me?

Alaric’s silver-gray eyes locked onto the man, his voice icy. “She’s none of your concern, Gregor.”

Gregor. I filed the name away in my mind. It didn’t sound friendly.

“Relax,” Gregor said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I’m just making conversation.”

I risked a glance at Alaric, and the look on his face sent a shiver down my spine. His usual cold mask was slipping, replaced by something darker, more dangerous. It was the first time I’d seen him genuinely angry, and it wasn’t directed at me.

“So,” Gregor said, turning his attention back to me. “How did you and Alaric meet?”

The question caught me off guard, and I glanced at Alaric, unsure how to answer. His expression was a warning—don’t say too much.

“It’s a long story,” I said finally, keeping my tone light. “Not very exciting.”

“Oh, I doubt that,” Gregor said, leaning forward. “A woman like you doesn’t end up with a man like him by accident.”

I forced a laugh, though it felt like sandpaper against my throat. “Life works in mysterious ways.”

Gregor smirked, his eyes lingering on me far too long. I felt a wave of nausea roll through me, and I focused on sipping my tea to keep from snapping at him.

“You should count yourself lucky,” Gregor said, his voice dropping to something almost conspiratorial. “Alaric’s not an easy man to tie down.”

I didn’t have to look at Alaric to know he was seething. The air around him practically crackled with suppressed rage.

“Gregor,” Alaric said, his voice sharp. “That’s enough.”

Gregor chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. “Fine, fine. I’ll behave.”

The conversation shifted after that, though I barely listened. My mind was racing, my body tense. I couldn’t shake the feeling that Gregor was testing me somehow, trying to get under my skin. And Alaric’s reaction—so protective, so possessive—only added to my confusion.

When Gregor finally left, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.

“You didn’t have to invite me down here,” I said, my voice sharper than I intended.

Alaric, who was standing by the window, turned to me with a look that could have frozen fire. “I don’t need your input on how I conduct my business.”

I stood, my hands shaking with frustration. “Then don’t expect me to sit there and be ogled like a piece of meat.”

His eyes narrowed, and in three strides, he was standing in front of me. “What makes you think you can tell me what to do?”

I glared up at him, my chest heaving. The anger in his eyes mirrored my own, but there was something else there too—something that made my stomach flip.

“Is this what you wanted?” I asked, my voice shaking. “To bring me into this nightmare and watch me suffer?”

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t answer. Instead, he stepped closer, his presence overwhelming.

“You need to be careful.”

I frowned, caught off guard by the shift in his tone. “Careful of what?”

"what comes out of that mouth of yours,"

I watched him leave, my emotions a tangled mess. I hated him for dragging me into his world,