Chapter 5

Cassian had been standing on the balcony for several minutes. He’d seen Elena enter the gallery, seen her strike Alessia, watched her drag the girl around by her hair and kick her when she was already on the floor.

He hadn’t moved, hadn’t called for anyone. He hadn’t even changed his expression. A cigarette rested between his fingers, the smoke drifted lazily around his hand before disappearing into the high ceiling.

Cassian looked down and Alessia was cleaning the marble. She kept one arm close to her ribs whenever she moved, her cheek was bleeding. She wiped it once, then continued working. Cassian took another drag. He had seen worse, much worse. He had been around violence since childhood.

He’d watched men beg for their lives, he’d put people in the ground himself. Pain had never been something he respected, it was simply something that happened. So the sight below shouldn’t have mattered. And it didn’t.

Not in the way it might have mattered to someone else. He wasn’t angry on Alessia’s behalf, he didn’t feel sorry for her, wasn’t about to rush downstairs and punish Elena because she had put her hands on a woman.

That wasn’t how Cassian operated. But he found himself watching, and that annoyed him. His eyes followed Alessia as she moved from one section of marble to the next, she was trying not to cry and Cassian noticed. Her shoulders would tighten whenever she thought she was alone, she’d stop for a second, breathe through the pain, then continue.

Interesting. He took another drag. She had been afraid of him from the moment she’d seen him. Most people were. The difference was that Alessia didn’t hide it well, her fear was written all over her and she had no experience pretending.

No polished smile. No clever words. No idea how to manipulate people. Cassian had spent years surrounded by people who knew exactly what face to wear in front of him. Alessia didn’t. She was painfully transparent. He watched her touch her cheek, her fingers came away red.

She stared at the blood for a moment, then she wiped it on her skirt. Cassian’s eyes narrowed. Elena had always been vicious, and that wasn’t news, what interested him was Alessia’s response. She hadn’t fought. Hadn’t shouted, she’d simply endured it. Cassian leaned farther against the railing. He wondered how long that would last, because everyone had a breaking point.

He’d seen men twice Alessia’s size reach theirs. Sometimes it took pain. Sometimes fear. Sometimes losing the one thing they thought they couldn’t live without. Cassian knew exactly how to find those points. His gaze settled on Alessia again. She was standing now, trying to reach the top of another frame.

She winced in pain, Cassian’s mouth tightened slightly. Not in concern. Irritation. She was supposed to be cleaning. Instead, she was distracting him, and he hated distractions. Cassian flicked ash from the end of his cigarette, it fell over the railing and disappeared below.

Alessia didn’t notice. Good. He didn’t want her looking up, not yet. He watched her for another moment before turning away, his shoes made almost no sound against the floor as he walked toward the west wing.

He reached the doorway, but stopped and looked back. Alessia was still cleaning. Still unaware. Cassian stared at her, there was something about her that didn’t fit inside this house. She was too soft for it. Too inexperienced, too easy to frighten. People like that usually didn’t survive long around men like Antonio.

And yet Alessia had survived Elena so far. Cassian’s fingers tightened around the cigarette. He didn’t know what he wanted from her, and that bothered him, he knew what he wanted from most people. Money. Information. Loyalty. Fear. Sometimes death.

With Alessia, there was nothing that simple. He. looked at the blood on her cheek again, then he turned away. Whatever this was, he would figure it out. Eventually. For now, he had no intention of rescuing her.

If Elena wanted to hurt her, that was Elena’s business. If Alessia wanted to survive, she would have to learn. Cassian disappeared into the west wing and shut the door behind him. Downstairs, Alessia continued cleaning, she never knew he’d been there. And Cassian preferred it that way.

The clock in the central tower hit two. The sound spread through the halls and faded, leaving the estate quiet again. Alessia was still awake, she had been lying in the narrow bed for hours, staring at the ceiling. Her cheek hurt where Elena’s ring had cut her, and the pain in her ribs hadn’t eased. Every time she took a deeper breath, she felt it.

Outside, the wind battered the little window. She pulled the blanket closer and shut her eyes. Sleep wouldn’t come. Then she heard the latch, her eyes peeled opened as the iron clicked, and Alessia pushed herself upright so quickly that her ribs ached. She grabbed the blanket and pulled it to her neck.

The door opened, and Cassian walked in. He left it open behind him. For a moment, Alessia could only stare. He looked as though he had just come from somewhere else in the house. He wore a black shirt with the collar undone, exposing the tattoos that ran up his throat. His leather tobacco pouch was in one hand and he walked toward her bed while rolling a cigarette.

“C-Cassian...”

He didn’t stop, just kept walking.

“What... what are you doing here? Please... my mother—"

“Your mother is asleep,” he cut her off.

Alessia swallowed. Cassian finished the cigarette, ran his tongue along the paper, and reached for his silver lighter. He snapped it open with a loud clack, the flame appeared between his fingers, and a moment later, smoke began to fill the room.

“You… why are you here?” she whimpered.

He took the wooden chair from beside her desk and moved it next to the bed, then he sat down and crossed one leg over the other. Alessia watched him take a drag and let the smoke out slowly. “This is my house, Dolcezza.”

Alessia moved farther against the headboard. “Please... leave me alone.”

Cassian looked at her cheek, his eyes stopped on the bruise. “You are in my space. And I go wherever I please.”