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The Unmasking
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2025-10-19 08:00:55CATALINA'S PERSPECTIVE
PARIS, FRANCENIGHTThe conference hall felt colder once Henri’s words settled in the air. Reznikov was after her.Dante’s hand tightened on my thigh like a lock, but his silence pressed harder than his grip.I could almost hear his fury building, his thoughts clawing against the walls of his restraint. He wanted answers, from Henri, from Reznikov, from me.I knew the act wouldn’t hold anymore. The mask had cracks, and now it was useless to keep patching it. If they were already aiming at me openly, then the truth had to surface on my terms, not theirs.I rose from my seat with deliberate calm. Every eye in the hall followed me as if the air itself shifted direction. For years, I’d worn the veil of the perfect wife, soft-spoken, obedient, unseen.Now I moved like La Rosa Nera, the woman who owned every room she stepped into.Dante’s gaze tracked me, confusion sharp in his star
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CATALINA'S PERSPECTIVE FRANCE - SUITE AFTERNOON Nikolai placed the leather folder on the table with quiet efficiency. I shifted closer to Dante, letting my thigh brush his, before opening the documents. The earlier noise in the suite, Carlos’s clinginess, Nico’s smirks, fell into silence the moment I spoke.“Voronin has been busy.” My fingers flipped through the first pages. “Negotiations with the small fry in Russia. Not the dons who matter, but the ones no one notices. Look here.” I tapped the list of names. “Petty bosses, little reach, no seat at the table. And yet… he ties threads through them.”Carlos scoffed beside me, leaning lazily against the back of my chair. “That’s laughable. What good are shrimps when sharks are circling?”I turned to him, eyes sharp. “Sharks don’t notice shrimps. But shrimps see everything. Voronin’s building a web. Not power. Information.”Dante still hadn’t spoken. He skimmed the
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CATALINA'S PERSPECTIVE FRANCE - SUITE AFTERNOON The knock came just as I expected, two sharp raps, not tentative, not commanding. Nico’s timing was precise as always, and Carlos… well, Carlos never arrived alone if he could help it.I rose from the couch, Dante still beside me, his palm heavy on my thigh, reminding me of where I belonged even as he bristled with suspicion.The door opened, and there they were, Nico in his usual relaxed posture, smirk tugging his lips, eyes already assessing Dante like a hawk circling prey. And Carlos, my Carlos, my baby brother, stepping in with a grin too bright for a world this dark.For a beat, silence. Tension coiled thick in the air.“Carlos,” I breathed, and before Dante could tighten his grip, I crossed the room and wrapped my arms around my brother. No masks. No hesitation. Just me.His arms squeezed me back, almost crushing, almost childlike. “Sorellina,” he sai
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CATALINA'S PERSPECTIVE FRANCE - SUITE MORNING The morning light spilled through the sheer curtains, gilding Dante’s skin in a way that made him look more myth than man. My cheek rested against his chest, the steady thud of his heart still violent even in sleep, as though even his dreams fought wars. We were tangled, skin to skin, our limbs a knot that neither of us had any intention of loosening. When his lashes fluttered open, his eyes found me instantly, sharp, focused, obsessed. His palm came up, cupping my jaw, dragging his thumb over my lips like he had to remind himself I was here, not some apparition he’d dreamed up. “You’re awake,” he murmured, voice rough with the night. “I never really slept,” I confessed, pressing a kiss to the base of his throat. “Too many thoughts.” His mouth curved in that dark way of his, a smile and a
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DANTE'S PERSPECTIVE FRANCE - SUITE NIGHTI wanted to be wrecked. I wanted to be ruined and built again and marked like property. I wanted her to take me the way she’d taken everything else she wanted, precise, brutal, personal. When the gun skittered across the floor and the metal clinked like a surrender, I felt my breath change. Adrenaline was still raw but under it something cleaner rose, want shaped like a blade.She moved first. Of course she moved first. Catalina doesn’t wait for permission when she wants to own something.She climbed me like a tide. Her mouth was at my throat before my hands had time to register, lips hot, teeth grazing the pulse there. God, the way she kissed, claiming, not asking. Her hands flattened on my chest and pushed, forcing me back into the mattress, and when her mouth found mine it wasn’t some gentle, cautious tasting. It was a hard, wet thing that tasted of blood and
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DANTE'S PERSPECTIVE FRANCE - SUITE NIGHTThe room was too silent. My knuckles still burned from the wall I’d split open earlier, the ache crawling up my arm, reminding me of every truth she’d thrown in my face. Catalina, my wife, my enemy, my La Rosa Nera.I wanted to see it. Not just hear it. Not just believe her words. I wanted to witness her in the flesh, the woman all of Italy whispered about, the shadow that made grown men piss themselves.So I pulled my gun. Cold steel in my hand, aimed straight at her chest.Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second. Then I saw it, the mask slip, the wife vanish. La Rosa Nera bled through, calm, sharp, dangerous. She didn’t flinch, didn’t beg. She knew exactly what I wanted.“Show me,” I growled.She moved. Fast. Too fast. One second the barrel was on her, the next I was the one on my back, the weight of her body pinning me down, the gun already in her hands. She straddled
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DANTE'S PERSPECTIVE FRANCE - SUITE NIGHTI stared at her, my wife, my enemy, my goddamn salvation and damnation wrapped in silk and lies. And then, I laughed.Not the kind that hides fury. Not the sharp edge of control. No. This laugh burned out of my chest like a release, tearing away the rage that had been choking me since the moment I put the pieces together. It was relief. Pure, savage relief.“Christ,” I cursed, voice raw, loud enough to split the silence. “That’s why. That’s why every time I laid eyes on La Rosa Nera, my body fucking reacted. My blood knew. My instincts knew. That pull, that rage, that goddamn obsession, it wasn’t split in two.” I dragged my hand through my hair, still laughing. “It was always you. Always my wife. My enemy. My obsession. The same woman after all.”She watched me. No guilt. No pleading. Her smile, the one she reserves for the moments she wants to cut me, spread slow and sure. It was the sm
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