Chapter 18

ELIAS

Regardless of the azure sky and the calm sea, there was a restlessness in me that grew wilder by the second.

The hum of the private plane was barely audible over the storm raging in my head. Louis sat across from me, ankles crossed, eyes glued to the window as if the view was enough to anchor his frazzled nerves. He was trying to appear too calm.

And I didn’t blame him.

He obviously wasn’t comfortable with the impromptu flight, but as my personal assistant, I needed him with me.

And maybe I just wanted him close.

When I’d informed Cathan about Louis accompanying me, he narrowed his gaze and muttered, "You're playing a dangerous game, Eli and you know it." He just didn't understand. Hell, I didn't either.

But all I knew was that I wanted him close. Closer than was safe.

"Comfortable?" I asked, breaking the silence.

Louis gazed at me, taken aback. "Uh—yeah. This is… not what I expected."

I gave a faint smile. "And what did you expect?

"Not a jet, that's for sure." He looked out the window once more. "I figured we'd drive or… something more normal."

I don’t blame him for thinking we’d be on the road. I deliberately left out the part that we were heading to Amalfi, Italy.

"We'll arrive in Amalfi in a few hours. My hometown."

He blinked, obviously surprised. "I didn't know we were heading to Italy."

"I didn't think you had to know. Until now."

His eyebrows furrowed a little at my cryptic tone, but he didn't press. He actually rarely did. It made it easier. And harder. Sometimes I wished he’d push.

Silence settled again, and I found myself watching him—the way his curls shone in the sunlight streaming through the windows, the way his fingers played with the hem of his sleeve. The limp he'd had only days ago was almost gone, and yet, I still caught him leaning to left side every now and then. I noted that little tidbit of information.

When he did finally glance up again, our eyes clashed. As usual, it was charged and electric but I was the one who looked away first.

"This is not a pleasure trip," I informed him. "You'll be writing down notes, organizing papers and most importantly, staying close. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," he replied meekly.

I tensed at the sir. I loathed how much I liked the way it sounded on his lips.

We arrived in the late afternoon, and the moment the doors swung open to the fresh salt air of the Amalfi Coast, something inside me clenched. This was home once. Now it just felt like a cemetery for things I no longer touched—memories, people, promises.

Louis seemed too dumbfounded to speak for the first few minutes, his wide eyes drinking in the cliff tops and cobble streets through the window of the black Maserati that picked us up.

"Wow," he finally gasped.

I gave him a fleeting glance out of the corner of my eyes. "What?"

"This is… beautiful."

"It's a trap," I told him flatly.

He gave me a confused. "A trap?"

"Don't get too comfortable. It's always the beautiful places that bleed you dry."

We arrived at the villa—a secluded estate overlooking the sea, surrounded by olive trees and high walls. I didn’t let Louis see the security details woven into every corner. He didn't need to.

The evening passed in meetings, briefings, talks filled with false smiles and thinly veiled threats. Louis stood quietly at my side the entire time, scribbling notes, passing files, being the shadow I'd ordered him to be. He spoke only when spoken to. Didn't even flinch when men twice his size greeted me with slight bows and eyes filled with reverence and fear.

He was learning quickly. And that pleased me greatly.

Later in the evening, after I had let my last associate, I found him on the balcony, staring into the dark waves. The moonlight caught on his skin and for a second, I almost forgot myself.

"You should sleep," I told him, stepping beside him.

He did not turn around. "I can't even if I wanted too. There’s too much on mind."

"Do you regret coming with me?"

He hesitated. "No."

I nodded, looking out over the water. The quiet between us wasn't uncomfortable—but it felt full. Heavy.

"I grew up here," I said quietly. "That dock down there… that's where I got my first scar."

He looked at me slowly. "You don't have to tell me."

"I know." I paused, then released a heavy sigh. "But I want to."

He waited, but I said nothing more. The words were lodged in my throat like glass. I just couldn’t give him any more.

Not yet.

His arm touched mine. Just slightly. It was barely enough to register, yet the rush of that fleeting touch was like fire traveling up my arm. He turned his face toward me—close. Too close.

I could feel his breath against my chest. His lips parted, not in invitation but in uncertainty. But still, we didn't move. Not forward. Not away.

And then I did the only thing I knew to do.

I backed away.

"This—" I said, voice low and brittle, "—cannot keep happening, Louis."

He grimaced, his eyes going dull like I'd flicked a switch inside him.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, backing away too.

I didn't respond. I couldn't.

I left him there under the moonlight, unwilling to acknowledge whatever it was that just happened.

In the privacy of my study, I poured a drink, downed it in one swift gulp, and called my sister. I hadn't called her in weeks.

She picked up on the third ring. "Eli?"

"Elaine. Is everything okay?"

She faltered. "I'm fine. But I heard something. unusual. Some men asked questions about me at the bakery. I told Alessandro to change our usual routine. Just in case."

My jaw clenched. "Did you get a look at their faces?"

"No. But I think they were from Aaron's side. Please, Eli… I left that life behind."

"I know," I breathed. "And I'll keep you safe. I promise."

But I wasn't so certain I could.

The past had a way of catching up—especially when it knew were your soft spots lived.

When I hung up, I stared out the same window Louis had been at earlier. And for the first time in years… I was scared.

Not for myself.

But for them.

For him.