𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 73: 𝐒𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐀 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

𝐌𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚’𝐬 𝐍𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐬°°°

Nevena’s fingers tightened on her purse, his voice didn’t break the silence — it cut through it,

She cast him a glance… then looked away without answering.

Antonio's let the silence stretch, studying her countenance.

“I don’t wish to coerce you into a decision,” he continued at last, tone deceptively composed.

“Just that my countrymen are… considerably hospitable, moreover Junior needs you.”

“What about you?” she shot back, quicker, sharper than she intended.

The question ignited a shift in the air or maybe his countenance.

But before she could read his expression—

“We’re here,” he said abruptly, pulling the wheel into a neat, calculated stop.

The car hadn’t even settled before a chauffeur approached. They alighted and Antonio tossed him the keys without looking.

He turned to Nevena and extended his arm, she slid her hand into it automatically.

His other hand lifted her gown as he guided her inside — so she wouldn’t trip, a silent, possessive courtesy.

—

Inside the hotel, everything gleamed— even the air felt expensive. Bowed head, hushed tone and unquestioned respect.

At the lobby desk, a diamond-coated card was placed in his palm by the reception Manager—

The treatment only men with power or influence received.

Right inside the elevator, Nevena's curiosity slithered out. “Does this place also belong to you?”

“No.” he replied in a monosyllable, just that.

“I thought so,” she muttered, barely audible to her own hearing. “It feels… dry.”

Antonio caught it and his lip dropped in slow grin. “I booked the whole building for the evening— that's why,” he said simply.

“Holy—” she cut herself off as the elevator doors dinged open. “That’s… too much. The atmosphere doesn’t even look—”

“If you don’t like it,” he murmured, stepping closer, “we can reconsider somewhere more private.”

“What about the payment?”

“It’s already gone.” He shrugged. “Non-refundable.”

Nevena didn’t debate further. She stepped out instead, heels clicking against the polished floor.

Antonio walked behind her, hands in pockets, pace slow.

—-

The dinner turned quieter than he’d envisioned.

His marigold hair foreigner was selective, pushing plates aside, choosing the simplest things — water over wine, light…clean meals over the luxury offered.

He termed it an allergy or maybe weight watching, and didn’t question it. He just monitored her— patiently, collecting every detail.

After dinner he took her to the rooftop.

The city below glittered like scattered diamonds and unlike Antonio, he outdid himself by engaging in a little conversation with her.

The wind curled around them after some time, cold and sharp.

He shrugged off his coat and draped it over her shoulders without ceremony.

“It’s late,” he murmured, buttoning her up himself. “We’re going back.”

Nevena nodded, small and soft under the heavy coat.

—

The drive home wasn’t direct. Antonio took detours — roads that gave the best views and landmarks.

Being with him that night made Nevena realize that he wasn't really cold— he just lacks a healthy social life.

By the time they reached her place, her head was foggy from exhaustion.

“Come,” he said, opening her door.

She just stared at him, then dramatically raised her arms like a child demanding to be carried.

His lips twitched into one helpless smirk— understanding the gesture.

Without hesitation, he pocketed his phone properly and grabbed her, slinging her over his shoulder like stolen loot.

Powerful strides taking the stairs three at a time.

At the front door he paused momentarily and unlocked it, then continued inside.

He didn't settle her down once until they reached her room.

When he finally did, it was with a gentleness that contrasted the roughness of the gesture before.

“Are you staying?” she whispered, almost breathless.

“No.” He unbuckled her shoes. “I have… other engagements to attend.”

She pouted like she wanted to protest but His expression shut it down immediately.

“It’s urgent,” he said quietly.

She sucked in her emotional weapon and yawned. “I'm wasted”

“Shower first,” he commanded.

Nevena squinted at him “Aren't you leaving again?"

“I will. After you shower.”

Seeing no room to argue, she groggily undressed right there and walked into the bathroom.

When she returned, steam followed her like a ghost— the room empty.

Her chest dropped.

Tsk.

She reached for her phone to call him… then stopped. He said only for important matters.

Not dwelling much she slipped into her pajamas and went to lock the door.

Getting to the living room, she heard the soft click of something in the kitchen.

She peeked in and it was him checking the backdoor lock, his posture rigid.

“I thought you left,” she whispered, walking up to him.

Antonio shook his head, but he didn’t look at her until he finished turning the bolt — satisfied only when the metal aligned perfectly.

“I was checking for security,” he said quietly and walked past her toward the main door. “Lock after me.”

“Yes, sir,” she teased with a breathy snigger, falling into step beside him.

He stopped and looked down at her. The dominance in his stare swallowing her whole.

“I’m not joking,” his tone was absolute. “And keep your phone. On.”

Her pulse jumped. “Did something happen?”

He didn’t answer again, instead he leaned in, cupped the back of her head gently, and pressed a slow kiss to her forehead “Goodnight, Nina.”

He stepped out and waited until he heard the door click shut.

𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐭’𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

Grinch pushed off the garage pillar, even before Antonio cut the engine.

Cigarette ember glowing like a hell-eye in-between his fingers.

He didn’t speak at first — he just watched him step out quietly. Expression unreadable.

With a flexed jaw Antonio brushed past him, shrugging off his coat.

“If you’re planning to question where I’ve been — save it. I don’t have the patience for it.

“This isn’t about your little… escapades,” Grinch inhaled sharply, and crushed the cigarette under his boot. “It's no longer a secret.”

Antonio’s eyes snapped to him.

“You better not be clocking my movements. Else I’ll rearrange your jaw.”

That was the spark

Grinch shot out his hand, fisting his lapel and dragging him backwards with surprising force. “We need to talk.”

“No.” Antonio countered, slamming him against the nearest wall of the vast living room, the impact cracking through the space.

The boys nearby stiffened, halfway between stepping in and freezing.

Few that summoned courage asked Grinch to submit, but he held his stare.

“Why weren’t you picking your calls?” he demanded, still fisting Antonio's coat.

The latter eyes went black at the interrogation. “Let go,” he growled, voice dipped in warning.

Grinch leaned in instead, breath cold.

“That bitch is a fucking distraction, and you—” he jabbed a finger at Antonio’s chest “—are drowning in formidable waters you don't understand.”

Without mincing exchange, it earned him a punch.