FORCED PROXIMITY

ROB

Bianca still had her face buried in Leonardo’s chest, arms wrapped around her brother like she never wanted to let go.

I exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down my face. I was exhausted. My knuckles ached from the blows I had delivered tonight. My ribs were sore from the ones I took. But this. This was worse than all of it.

Knowing she was safe should have calmed me. It did not. Because I knew she would not be standing here, shaking in Leo’s arms, if I had just stayed the hell away from her.

She would not have gotten kidnapped. Would not have been beaten. Would not have had to see me like this.

Arya stood next to me, arms crossed, watching Bianca and Leo like she was watching a soap opera. “You are brooding,” she murmured. “And you look like you want to punch something.”

“I always want to punch something.”

“Right. But this is different.”

I did not answer.

Because I did not need to. Arya always saw more than people wanted her to. She did not need me to tell her what was going through my head. She already knew.

She tilted her head slightly, eyes still on them. “You know, she did not hesitate.”

I exhaled through my nose, already tired of this conversation. “She did not have a choice.”

“Didn’t she?” Arya turned to look at me fully now. “Bianca is not the type to roll over just because she is backed into a corner. She would have found a way to argue. To fight. But she did not.”

I clenched my jaw. “What is your point?”

Arya studied me, then smiled like she had figured something out. “You just cannot stand her, can you?”

I let out a short, humorless laugh. “I really cannot.”

She hummed again. “Why?”

I shook my head, watching as Leo smoothed a hand down Bianca’s hair, murmuring something to her. Her shoulders shook, but she nodded.

Memories came unbidden, clawing their way out from a past I had spent too long trying to bury.

Bianca, younger, smaller, but just as fiery, always trailing after her brother.

She was there every single day while Leo and I trained. While Don Vito shaped us into something unrecognizable. While we both turned into machines under his command.

At first, it had been normal. Leo and I had been young, still boys, still capable of laughter, and she had been a constant in our lives. A little girl with wild curls and a sharp mouth who never seemed to shut up. She would sit with us during breaks, stealing bites of our gourmet meals, sipping from our crystal glasses like they belonged to her.

Then things changed.

Don Vito became desperate. I never knew why, still do not, but he started pushing Leonardo harder. Too hard.

The punishments turned cruel.

The training turned brutal.

He locked Leo in a cold, dark cell at night with stacks of books, expecting him to memorize laws, business structures, trade routes. When he failed, the beatings came. When he excelled, they came all the same.

Bianca did not know.

She still came every day, but the Leo she once knew was not the same. He was harder, quieter. He did not have time to play, to talk, to be her brother anymore. She would get frustrated, yell, demand answers. She would look to me for an explanation, and I never gave her one.

Because I could not.

I was too busy surviving my own hell.

And then, one day, she stopped coming.

Maybe someone told her. Maybe she found out on her own. Or maybe she just realized that whatever bond she and Leo had was gone.

But she left.

And I should have been relieved, because at least one of us got to be free. But I was not.

Because from that moment on, every time I looked at her, I saw the girl who got to escape.

And I resented her for it. But not enough to hate her.

Arya let out a slow breath beside me, breaking me from my thoughts. “It was not her fault.”

I clenched my jaw. “I know.”

“She was just a kid.”

“I know.”

“So why do you still hate her?”

I dragged my eyes away from Bianca and turned to Arya. “I honestly do not know. But what I do know is that every time I look at her, I remember everything I lost and everything I cannot have.”

***************************************************

BIANCA

Arya and I had a long talk, mostly her skirting around the subject of Rob. I knew she was looking out for me, for us. She never liked us fighting around her. I guess it reminded her too much of her own unstable home.

Hell, her father or uncle if you will, was still rotting in the cage she put him in, begging for death.

We spoke at length, and I was sad to see her go. Sadder, maybe, that I would be left alone with my new babysitter. Or rather, my bodyguard.

Rob lingered nearby, trying to look disinterested, but I knew he was listening. He was deep in conversation with my brother, and judging by the stiff line of Leonardo’s shoulders, it was not a pleasant one.

I was sure Roberto only agreed to this arrangement because he blamed himself for what happened. Not that it was his fault. The real blame belonged to the men who had murdered his family.

Still, none of this would have happened if not for him.

I waved as Arya and my brother drove off, then turned toward the house.

Inside, I found Rob standing by the ceiling-length window, staring out into the night like it had wronged him. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets, his posture stiff, tension radiating off him like heat.

I kicked off my heels, already exhausted. “You know, you do not have to look like you are being held hostage.”

He did not turn. “Aren’t I?”

I rolled my eyes, heading to the bar. “You could at least sit down.”

“I am fine.”

“Suit yourself.” I poured myself a drink, feeling his eyes on me now. “Leonardo really twisted your arm, huh?”

His voice was flat. “Did not have to. I owed him.”

I scoffed. “You do not owe anyone anything, Rob. If you refused my brother would have found someone in your place. Or you could replace yourself with one of your men.”

At that, he finally turned. Our eyes met across the room, and for a second, I felt something tighten in my chest.

I ignored it.

He studied me in silence, then let out a humorless laugh. “You always do that.”

“Do what?”

“Act like the world does not touch you.”

I took a slow sip of my wine. “It does not.”

His jaw ticked, his eyes dragging over me, assessing. “Right.”

I set my glass down with more force than necessary. “You are not actually staying here, are you?”

He did not answer right away. Just held my gaze like he was debating something. Then, finally—

“Leonardo says I am.”

I exhaled sharply, pushing off the bar. “Great. Just great.”

He watched me pace, arms crossed over his broad chest. “You hate this.”

I scoffed. “Obviously.”

His lips curled slightly, but there was nothing amused about it. “You hate me.”

I stopped pacing. Met his eyes.

Something flickered in the space between us. Something dangerous.

“With everything in me,” I said.

His voice dropped lower, rougher. “Good.”

I turned away before I could think too much about the way my stomach twisted.