Chapter 9: The Man Behind the Fire

Siena stood by the window of the guest room, arms crossed tightly over her chest, her reflection barely visible against the pale morning light.

Lucia was safe. That should have been enough.

But it wasn’t.

Not when the man sitting at the head of the table, giving orders with the flick of a hand, was still Adriano Valtasari — and somehow not. He was colder now. Sharper. But beneath the edge, something festered. A pull she didn’t understand. An obsession that felt less like rage… and more like need.

And she couldn’t decide if it terrified her or tempted her.

She’d seen the way he looked at her when he thought she wasn’t watching. Not lust — not just that, at least. Something darker. Something that made her wonder if he even knew himself what it was he wanted.

Control?

Retribution?

Her?

All of her?

Her fingers pressed into her forearms.

He could have taken Lucia by force.

He didn’t.

He could have had her locked away, blackmailed, ruined.

He hadn’t.

Instead, he invited her into his world again. No —dragged her. And now he was weaving ropes around her that didn’t look like chains… but felt heavier with every day.

A knock at the door snapped her out of the spiral.

It was Zara. Quiet, composed, unreadable as always. “Mr. Valtasari asked if you would join him in the east garden.”

Siena hesitated. “Did he say why?”

“No, Miss. Only that it wasn’t a request.”

Siena gave a bitter smile. “It never is, is it?”

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The east garden was nothing like Siena remembered from the layout she'd glimpsed on her way in. Secluded, quiet, framed by tall hedges and marbled statues that stood like silent witnesses to old sins. A cobblestone path cut through the wild rosebushes, leading to a wrought iron bench beneath a blooming wisteria tree.

Adriano was already there.

He stood with his back to her, dressed in black again, one hand loosely holding a cigarette he hadn’t lit. His other hand rested on the back of the bench — relaxed, but not really. Nothing about him ever was.

Siena approached slowly, her shoes crunching softly on the gravel. She didn’t speak. She waited.

He didn’t turn.

“I used to come here when I was a boy,” he said after a moment. “Before the world turned me into something else.”

She frowned. “What do you want from me, Adriano?”

Finally, he turned to face her. His eyes met hers, and they weren’t empty. No — they were full. Of weight. Of war. Of everything he refused to say out loud.

“I thought I wanted revenge,” he said quietly. “I thought I wanted you back in my life so I could make you hurt the way I did.”

Her breath caught. He wasn’t lying — that much was clear. But something in the way he said it made her heart ache.

“And now?” she asked.

Adriano stepped forward, slow and deliberate. “Now I watch you sleep beside our daughter. I hear her laugh down the hall. And I hate that I missed four years of her life.”

He was close enough now that she could feel the heat coming off his body — and the storm behind his words.

“I look at you,” he murmured, “and I remember what it felt like to be seventeen and stupid enough to think you were mine forever. And it’s killing me. Because no matter how much I try to stay in control —” he stopped, jaw tightening, “— you undo everything.”

Siena’s voice came out smaller than she expected. “So that’s what this is? Obsession?”

“I don’t know,” he whispered. “Maybe. But it’s not hate anymore. That’s the worst part.”

She stared at him, silent, unsure whether to slap him or fall apart right in front of him.

“But you still hurt me,” she said.

He nodded once. “I know.”

“And you scare me.”

“I scare myself.”

The silence between them was raw and real. Then, before she could speak again, he turned his face away and lit the cigarette — but didn’t smoke it. Just held it between his fingers like a habit he no longer enjoyed.

“Go back inside,” he said quietly. “Lucia’s awake.”

Siena didn’t move. “Is this you letting me go?”

His eyes flicked to hers. “No,” he said. “This is me giving you a moment to breathe before I ruin you all over again.”

And with that, he walked away — leaving her in the garden with shaking hands and a heart she didn’t know how to silence.

---

Siena walked slowly back through the side corridor of the estate, her steps echoing on the polished marble floors. The silence was heavy. Not peaceful — no, not anymore. It felt like the quiet just before something snaps.

Her heart still pounded from the words Adriano had left behind. I scare myself.

She reached the staircase and paused, her fingers brushing along the smooth railing. Everything about this place — the wealth, the control, the pristine symmetry — was supposed to feel foreign. And it did. But the real danger wasn’t the house. It was him.

He was unraveling her.

Piece by piece.

Back upstairs, Lucia was still napping in the sun-drenched room Elena had prepared. Her little chest rose and fell in soft rhythm, one hand clutched tightly around her stuffed fox. Siena watched her for a moment, grounding herself.

Then she slipped into the hallway again, back into the main part of the house.

She needed clarity.

What the hell was Adriano doing? What did he want?

She entered the sitting room and sank into a leather armchair, curling her legs underneath her. The afternoon sun cut through the tall windows in golden angles. Dust floated in the light like tiny ghosts. Siena leaned her head back and exhaled, long and slow.

He said it wasn’t hate anymore.

He said she undid him.

And the worst part?

She believed him.

She believed the crack in his voice when he said he’d missed their daughter. She believed the pain in his eyes when he talked about those lost years.

But she also believed the way his hand had closed around her wrist. The way his fury could ignite in a blink. The way he still wanted control — over her, over everything.

She’d lived too long in fear to mistake obsession for love.

And yet… there was something under the rage. Something broken.

Is it still obsession, she wondered, if part of me wants to be wanted this much?

She pressed her palms against her face, ashamed of the thought. She couldn’t afford to feel anything. Not with Lucia’s safety hanging in the balance.

But he wasn’t just the man who had threatened her.

He was the boy who once held her hand under the stars. The boy who whispered about freedom and power and promised the world if she stayed beside him.

And now that boy was a king — carved from violence and vengeance — still reaching for her.

A soft knock pulled her from her thoughts.

It was Zara.

“Dinner will be served in an hour,” she said gently. “Shall I help you prepare?”

Siena shook her head. “No. I’ll manage.”

The door closed again, and Siena stared at it for a long time.

Adriano was dangerous.

But he was also unraveling.

And somehow, the more he came undone… the more she was tempted to hold on.

Just to see what he would become without the armor.

Even if it destroyed them both.

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