CHAPTER 12: Hidden in the Dark

MIA CRUZ

The air crackled with tension, heavy and charged, wrapping around us like an unspoken promise. My breath came in uneven gasps, my pulse hammering against my ribs in a frantic rhythm. Marco’s fingers rested lightly on my waist, a touch that felt both possessive and teasing, his lips hovering just inches from mine. Every nerve in my body was aware of him—of his presence, his power, the quiet restraint in his stance. And yet, despite the space he left between us, I could feel it—the unmistakable heat radiating off his skin.

His piercing blue eyes locked onto mine, filled with something dark and unreadable. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, lazy and knowing.

“You’re blushing, Mia.”

I felt my cheeks burn hotter, my stomach twisting at the teasing edge in his voice.

“I—” I started, but words failed me. How the hell was I supposed to respond to that?

Marco chuckled, the deep, rich sound rolling over me like warm honey. “Didn’t expect that reaction from you.”

I glared at him, desperate to regain some of my dignity. “Didn’t expect you to stop.”

The moment the words left my mouth, I felt the heat rush to my cheeks. I was blushing—mortified that I’d actually said that out loud.

Did I really just say that?

His smirk deepened, but there was something else in his expression now—something dangerous. His fingers ghosted along my jaw, slow, deliberate.

“Careful,” he murmured. “You say things like that, and I might not stop next time.”

My breath hitched.

Next time.

The words echoed in my head, looping over and over like a taunt.

Next time as in what? Another kiss? A full-blown make-out session? Or did he mean all the way?

I swallowed hard, my skin still tingling where his hands had been. Marco Valentino wasn’t the kind of man who made empty promises. If he said next time, then there would be a next time.

And that thought alone sent a shiver down my spine.

The implication hung between us, thick and heavy, making my pulse spike. I needed to get out of here before I completely lost myself to whatever this was.

I took a step back, feeling the loss of his warmth instantly. “I should go,” I said, my voice weaker than I wanted it to be.

Marco simply watched me, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Of course.”

I turned on my heel, all but rushing out of the room, my heart still hammering against my ribs.

As soon as I stepped outside, the cool air hit my flushed skin, but it did nothing to settle the storm raging inside me. The sleek black car Marco had arranged was waiting, and I slid inside, gripping my bag so tightly my knuckles turned white.

As the car pulled away, I dared a glance back at the grand estate.

Marco stood at the entrance, watching me leave. He wasn’t smiling anymore.

His expression had shifted, dark and unreadable, a stark contrast to the teasing smirk from earlier.

And then, as if pulled by something unseen, he turned and disappeared inside.

MARCO VALENTINO

Mia had left.

And all I wanted to do was pull her back.

The taste of her still lingered on my lips, the memory of her flushed skin, her wide, stunned eyes burning itself into my mind. I wanted more. I wanted to feel her tremble against me again, to hear the way her breath hitched when I touched her.

But not like that. Not rushed. Not in the heat of the moment.

If I was going to have Mia, I was going to do it right.

Properly.

A slow smirk pulled at my lips as I slipped my hands into my pockets. I’d ask her out, take my time peeling back those layers of hers, making her realize she was already mine before she even said yes.

But first, business.

A knock on the door pulled me from my thoughts.

“Boss,” a gruff voice called from the hallway. “He’s in the basement.”

My smirk faded.

I rolled my shoulders, shaking off the last remnants of Mia’s touch, and turned toward the door. “Good,” I murmured. “Let’s go.”

As I descended the hidden staircase, the warmth of the estate above vanished, replaced by the cold, unrelenting darkness below. The scent of blood, sweat, and fear thickened the air.

Such a beautiful place…

And yet, beneath it, an ugly secret thrived.

Raoul was exactly where I left him—strapped to a chair, barely conscious, his head hanging low. Blood had dried against his temple, fresh wounds blooming across his body.

I stepped forward, crouching in front of him, and tilted his chin up with two fingers. His swollen eyes cracked open, and even in his broken state, I saw the flicker of fear.

I smiled.

“Hey, Raoul,” I murmured. “Miss me?”

Raoul’s breath came in ragged gasps, his body barely holding itself up against the restraints. His face was a mess of bruises and dried blood, but I could still see the flicker of defiance in his swollen eyes.

Good.

I preferred it when they had a little fight left. It made breaking them all the more satisfying.

I sighed, rolling my sleeves up, not bothering to rush. This was my favorite part—when they thought they’d reached the worst of it, only to realize I was just getting started.

“You know,” I mused, circling the chair slowly, the sound of my footsteps echoing off the cold, damp walls, “I was in a good mood today.” I stopped behind him, resting my hands on his shoulders, feeling the way he tensed. “Had a nice morning . A beautiful woman. A moment I actually enjoyed.”

I gripped the back of his neck and squeezed—not enough to choke, but enough to remind him who was in control. He winced.

“And then I come down here,” I continued, my tone still light, conversational. “And I see you. Still breathing. Still taking up space.”

I sighed dramatically. “And just like that, my good mood is gone.”

I let go and stepped around to face him again, rolling my wrists. A knife lay on the table nearby, gleaming under the dim light, but I wasn’t reaching for that. Not yet.

First, my fists.

I cracked my knuckles before driving a punch straight into his gut. His body jerked violently against the restraints as he gasped for air. Before he could recover, I grabbed his jaw, forcing him to look at me.

“You cost me money, Raoul,” I said, my voice deceptively calm, though the fire of rage burned beneath my skin.

He coughed, blood speckling his already ruined shirt, but he still managed a weak smirk. “It’s… just business, right?” His words were slurred, pained, but I could hear the mockery beneath them.

I sighed, shaking my head. “Wrong answer.”

This time, I didn’t go for his gut. I sent a sharp, calculated punch to his ribs, satisfied by the crack that followed. His strangled cry echoed through the basement, bouncing off the stone walls.

I crouched in front of him, tilting my head. “That was for the money.” I reached for the knife on the table, letting the cool steel glide between my fingers before pressing the tip just below his collarbone. “Now, this… is for wasting my time.”

Raoul stiffened, his breathing turning shallow as the blade bit into his skin, a thin line of blood blooming beneath it.

“You think you can cross me and just walk away?” I murmured, pressing just a little deeper—not enough to kill, but enough to make him feel it. Really feel it.

His lips parted in a shaky breath. I could see it now—the realization sinking in. The fear finally setting in his dark eyes.

Good.

I twisted the blade slightly, and he let out a strangled groan. “Please,” he rasped.

I leaned in, my lips curling. “Please?” I mocked. “That’s it? No excuses? No last-minute deals?”

His chest heaved. “It wasn’t my call…”

I stilled, my grip tightening around the knife.

“Lies,” I said, my tone dipping into something far more dangerous.

“No,” he coughed, blood trailing down his chin. “It was—”

I yanked the knife away, wiping the blade clean on his shirt before standing to my full height. “Too bad,” I muttered. “You had your chance to talk.”

Then, without hesitation, I drove my fist into his face one last time, his head snapping back. His body sagged against the restraints, barely conscious.

I stepped back, exhaling slowly as I rolled my shoulders. The rush of violence had settled my nerves, but it hadn’t erased the lingering thoughts of Mia.

That was a problem.

One I’d deal with soon enough.

For now, I had unfinished business.

I turned to one of my men, wiping the blood off my knuckles. “Clean this up,” I ordered. “And find out who gave him the order.”

“Yes, boss.”

I adjusted my cuffs and strode toward the exit. The morning was still young, and I had other things to handle.

Like figuring out what the hell Mia Cruz was doing to me.