CHAPTER 18: Beneath the Surface

Mia Cruz

The rest of the day passed in a blur.

I tried to focus, tried to drown myself in work, but my thoughts kept circling back to Marco. To the attack. To the way he stood on that stage, commanding the world’s attention while I sat at my desk, feeling like nothing more than a forgotten spectator in his carefully controlled world.

He hadn’t reached out.

Not last night. Not this morning.

I told myself I didn’t care. That I didn’t need him to check on me.

But the truth?

It hurt.

“Earth to Mia.”

I blinked and looked up to see Mr. Gravitas standing beside my desk, arms crossed. His sharp gaze studied me with quiet scrutiny.

“You’ve been staring at that same email for the past five minutes.”

Shit.

“I—uh, just lost track of time,” I said, forcing a tight-lipped smile.

He didn’t look convinced. “Take a break.”

Before I could argue, he walked away, leaving me with no choice but to grab my bag and head to the break room.

The second I stepped in, I regretted it.

A group of my coworkers were huddled around the TV, murmuring amongst themselves.

“Did you hear what happened last night?”

“They say three people died. One of them was my crush”

“And Marco Valentino was right there.”

I froze.

On the screen, the news was still replaying clips of Marco’s press conference. The same speech I had watched earlier, the same composed expression on his face.

“Man’s got nerves of steel,” someone muttered. “If I were him, I’d be in hiding right now.”

I clenched my jaw and turned away, unwilling to listen anymore.

I clenched my jaw and turned away, unwilling to listen anymore.

Marco wasn’t hiding.

He was plotting.

And a part of me wondered if I had been foolish to believe I could step into his world without getting burned.

I had barely sat down when my phone vibrated inside my bag.

I pulled it out, my breath catching in my throat as I read the message on the screen.

Marco: I’m waiting for you in the underground parking lot after work. We need to talk.

My pulse stuttered.

After everything, he was just… here? Just like that?

No explanation. No apology for the silence. Just a demand.

And yet, as much as I wanted to be angry, to ignore him the way he had ignored me… I knew I wouldn’t.

Because Marco Valentino wasn’t a man you ignored.

And deep down, I wasn’t sure I wanted to.

The rest of the day crawled by in a blur.

I tried to focus on my work, but my mind kept drifting back to that message. To him.

Marco was waiting for me.

What did he want to talk about? The attack? The fact that I had been there? Or maybe… something else?

By the time the workday ended, my nerves were wound so tight I could barely breathe.

With my bag slung over my shoulder, I made my way down to the underground parking lot, each step echoing in the dimly lit space.

And then I saw him.

Leaning against a sleek black car, hands tucked into the pockets of his tailored suit. His gaze locked onto mine the second I stepped into view.

I swallowed hard. He looked the same as always—polished, unreadable. But there was something in his eyes, something darker than usual.

Something dangerous.

“You came,” he said, pushing off the car and closing the distance between us in slow, measured steps.

I forced myself to keep my voice steady. “You asked me to.”

He tilted his head, studying me. “And yet, you hesitated.”

I didn’t deny it.

Marco sighed, running a hand down his face. “Get in.”

I crossed my arms. “Why?”

His jaw tightened, the patience in his expression thinning. “Because I don’t want to have this conversation in a fucking parking lot.”

His voice was firm, a command wrapped in a request.

I should have turned around. Walked away.

But I didn’t.

The moment I slid into the back seat, the door shut behind me with a quiet thud.

I barely had a second to process before Marco slipped in beside me—and then his arms were around me.

I stiffened.

I hadn’t expected that.

His embrace wasn’t forceful, wasn’t demanding. Just firm, steady. Warm.

For a moment, I did nothing. My hands hovered awkwardly, my body tense against his. But then I felt it—the way his fingers pressed into my back, like he was grounding himself. The way his breath hitched slightly, just for a fraction of a second.

Marco Valentino, the man who commanded rooms with nothing but a look, was holding onto me like he needed it.

Like he needed me.

Slowly, cautiously, I let my arms wrap around him.

Neither of us spoke.

The silence stretched between us, thick with everything unsaid.

The car hummed around us, the faint sound of the city beyond its tinted windows. But inside, there was only the quiet rise and fall of our breathing, the warmth of his body pressed against mine.

I didn’t know how long we stayed like that. Seconds? Minutes? Time felt different in Marco’s presence—slower, heavier.

Eventually, he exhaled, his breath stirring the hair near my ear. “I needed to see you.”

His voice was lower than usual, rough around the edges.

I swallowed, my throat tight. “You could’ve called.”

Marco pulled back slightly, just enough to look at me. His gaze swept over my face, searching, like he was trying to read my every thought.

“I should have,” he admitted, his fingers brushing against my wrist before he finally let go. “But I needed more than a phone call.”

My pulse stuttered.

I should have been angry. Should have demanded answers about last night, about why he hadn’t reached out sooner. But looking at him now—the tension lining his jaw, the exhaustion hidden beneath the sharpness of his features—I couldn’t bring myself to.

Instead, I whispered, “What happened?”

Marco’s jaw tightened, his fingers flexing against his knee. “It’s because of the foundation.”

I frowned. “Your charity?”

He gave a slow nod. “Not everyone likes what I’m doing. The donations, the outreach programs… they disrupt certain interests.”

I processed his words, a sinking feeling settling in my stomach. “You’re saying someone attacked the gala because of that?”

Marco’s eyes darkened. “People in power don’t like change, Mia. And they definitely don’t like when someone like me forces it.”

I studied him, my mind racing. Marco Valentino wasn’t just some billionaire hosting charity events for good PR—he was actively making enemies. Dangerous ones.

“And the people who died?” I asked quietly.

His expression hardened. “Collateral damage.”

I inhaled sharply. He said it like it was an unfortunate truth, not something he could change.

Marco turned fully toward me, his gaze steady. “I brought you into this, and I won’t let it happen again. I’ll make sure you’re safe.”

A chill ran down my spine, but I lifted my chin. “I don’t need protecting, Marco.”

His lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “You have no idea what you need.”

There was something final in the way he said it, as if the conversation was over. But it wasn’t. Not for me.

I wasn’t blind—I knew there was more he wasn’t telling me. But for now, I’d let him think he was in control. Because deep down, I already knew…

Whatever this was between us—it was far from over.

Marco lifted his hand in a subtle motion, and the driver immediately responded, easing the car out of the underground parking lot. The hum of the engine filled the silence between us as the city lights blurred past the tinted windows.

I shifted slightly, turning to face him. “So what happens now?”

He exhaled, his fingers tapping idly against his thigh. “Now, I handle it.”

I frowned. “Handle it how?”

His gaze flicked to me, unreadable. “You don’t need to worry about that.”

I let out a dry laugh. “Really? Because I was there, Marco. I saw people die. And now, you’re telling me someone might have done it to send you a message? How am I supposed to just forget that?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he studied me for a long moment, like he was deciding how much to say.

Finally, he sighed. “It won’t happen again.”

I arched a brow. “You keep saying that like you can promise it.”

“I can,” he said, the certainty in his voice making my stomach twist.

I stared at him, frustration bubbling in my chest. He was protecting me—he had been since the moment he pulled me from that ballroom. But he was also keeping me in the dark.

And I wasn’t sure which was worse.

“Just trust me,” he added, his voice softer now.

I held his gaze, my heart hammering.

Trust him?

Marco’s lips twitched, the faintest trace of amusement breaking through the tension. “Was that your stomach?”

I pressed a hand against my abdomen, heat rushing to my face. “No.”

His brow lifted. “Lying isn’t your strong suit, dolcezza.”

I huffed, crossing my arms. “It’s been a long day.”

His expression shifted, something unreadable flashing in his eyes before he leaned forward and tapped the partition. “Take us somewhere to eat.”

The driver gave a curt nod, and the car smoothly changed direction.

I blinked at him. “Marco, you don’t have to—”

“I want to.”

His voice left no room for argument.

I exhaled, sinking back into the seat.

Maybe food would be a good distraction. Maybe it would help settle the storm in my chest—the one he always seemed to cause.