Domestic Friction

The morning sun filtered through the sheer silk curtains of the master suite, casting long, golden patterns across the dark hardwood floor. Vittoria sat at the small writing desk near the window, a steaming cup of tea resting beside her open notebook. She was dressed in a simple, oversized cream cashmere sweater and leggings, her hair tied up in a loose, messy bun. The books she had retrieved from Julian’s shop lay open around her, their ancient pages giving off that familiar, comforting scent of history.

The door to the dressing room clicked open, and Cassian stepped out, adjusting the silver cufflinks on his crisp white shirt. He looked immaculate, his dark suit tailored to perfection, showing absolutely no sign of the man who had held her late into the night with a desperate, animalistic passion.

"You are up early," Cassian observed, walking over to stand behind her chair. He placed his large hands on her shoulders, his thumbs massaging the tight muscles of her neck.

"I have a seminar presentation via the university portal at ten," Vittoria said, not looking up from her notes, though her skin tingled at his touch. "If I don't submit these translations by noon, Professor Vance is going to penalize my grade. He doesn't care that I am married to the sovereign of the city."

"He would care if I had a brief conversation with the dean of the department," Cassian remarked dryly, his lips brushing the top of her head.

Vittoria turned around in her chair, giving him an annoyed look. "Don't you dare, Cassian. I earned my place in that program, and I am going to finish it on my own merits. No mafia intervention in my academic history."

Cassian chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that made his chest vibrate against her shoulder. "As you wish, sweet girl. But if the professor gives you any trouble, the offer stands."

A soft knock on the door interrupted them, and Maria entered, carrying a fresh tray of sliced fruit and pastries. "Good morning, Mrs. Marchetti. Good morning, sir. Enzo is waiting downstairs in the study. He says the reports from the traffic division just arrived."

Cassian's face immediately lost its relaxed warmth, the cold mask returning in an instant. "Thank you, Maria. Tell him I will be down in two minutes."

"Yes, sir," Maria said, setting the tray on the side table before quickly exiting the room.

Vittoria watched him closely, her anxiety returning. "Is it about the blue sedan?"

"It is always about something, Vittoria," Cassian said, reaching down to cup her face in his hand. His touch was firm, a silent reminder of his authority. "Work on your translations. Do not worry about what happens downstairs."

"How am I supposed to focus on seventeenth-century court logs when I know you are downstairs planning a war?" she asked, her voice rising slightly.

"By remembering that I plan the war so you can read your logs in peace," Cassian replied coldly, his dark eyes locking onto hers. "Stay in the room until I return."

He turned and walked out, the heavy doors closing with a definitive click. Vittoria sighed, leaning back in her chair and staring at the fruit tray. The reality of her life was an exhausting dance between normal human routines and the constant, underlying threat of violence.

Downstairs in the private study, Enzo was standing by the large oak desk, several printed documents spread out across the surface. The room smelled of old leather and stale cigar smoke.

"What do we have, Enzo?" Cassian asked, walking behind the desk and throwing himself into the high-backed leather chair.

"The sedan was registered to a shell company operating out of the northern docks," Enzo explained, pointing to a map on the table. "The company was dissolved three months ago, but the bank accounts used to fund it are linked to the Moretti family's old associates."

Cassian’s eyes narrowed, his fingers tapping a slow, rhythmic pattern on the desk. "The Morettis are broke and scattered. They don't have the resources to pull off an ambush in the historic quarter unless someone is backing them."

"That is what I think, boss," Enzo agreed, his face grim. "Someone on the council is feeding them information about our movements. No one knew we were going to Julian's shop except the inner circle."

"Then we find the leak," Cassian growled, his voice dropping to a dangerous, lethal register. "Increase the guard detail on the eastern wall. And tell the drivers that Vittoria does not leave this estate under any circumstances until I say otherwise."