Chapter 19

LOUIS

I didn’t sleep.

Even after Elias left and his form was swallowed by the night, I stood rooted to the balcony. The sea stretched out before me, dark and cold, crashing against the cliffs as if it too sensed the storm raging in my chest.

"This cannot happen again."

The words rang in my ears, stark in their finality. This was the second time I was this stupid and hopeful. Hadn’t I learnt my lesson the last time?

Damn it.

What had I been hoping for, anyway? A kiss? A confession? Something soft to wrap around this growing, aching thing in my chest?

I was a fool.

By the time I made it to my bedroom, the sheets were too smooth, the bed too comfortable. I lay there with my eyes open, listening to the silence of Amalfi and trying to quiet the memory of Elias's breath brushing against my mouth.

He'd let me close—closer than anyone else probably got. But the second I got too close, he shut it down. Hard.

And still, I couldn’t get him out of my head.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I dressed quickly the next morning. My limp had eased significantly; the bruising had cleared. I walked freer, crisper, but I was far from well—not physically, and even farther from it mentally. But I carried myself as if I belonged here.

Because the truth was, I wanted to.

Whatever Elias was, whatever Allure was, this life—this job—was freedom. Or as close as I would ever come to it.

When I joined him in the villa's main lounge, he was already dressed in a dark grey suit, perfectly tailored, every inch of him screaming control.

He didn't look at me at first. Just sipped his espresso, shuffling through a folder thick with papers.

"Good morning," I said, my voice neutral.

"Morning," he replied without looking up.

Cool. Distant. I guess we’re back to business as usual.

"Today you'll be sitting in on a meeting with the Baroni family," he said finally, his gaze still on the papers. "You'll keep quiet unless spoken to. Take notes, but don't make a scene. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

He looked up then, just briefly. His eyes flicked to mine—sharp, inscrutable—and then back to the documents.

There was a tic in his jaw. Maybe he hated the sir thing. I didn't know. At this point, I couldn't tell anymore.

We headed into town after we ate breakfast. The roads in Amalfi were winding and narrow, and we inched along, driving past flower shops and bakeries and tourists with cameras. I tried not to stare at everything like a lost puppy, but it was hard.

This place was alive in a way Chicago never had been.

The meeting with the Baroni’s was held in a vineyard estate carved into the hills, guarded by dark-eyed men with even darker intentions. Elias moved through it all like a ghost—untouchable, and slightly terrifying. I followed close behind, holding onto my clipboard, pretending I wasn't totally in over my head.

The meeting itself was cordial on the surface, but underneath? It seemed very tense. I did not catch all of the nuances—some of it was in quick Italian—but I recognized tension when I saw it. The power plays, thinly veiled threats and guarded nods were all I needed to know the argument was serious. 

Regardless, I took notes where I could.

Elias on the other hand was calm, ice-cold, and utterly terrifying.

Later, after the meeting, he walked with me through the vineyard, his steps slow, deliberate.

"Any questions?" he asked, finally addressing me again.

I swallowed. "Not concerning the meeting. But… concerning you."

His brow went up slightly. "Me?"

"Last night," I said, my voice lower than I intended. "What happened on the balcony…"

Elias stopped.

He turned to me, his face expressionless, but something flickered in his eyes—regret? Anger? Fear?

"I told you,” he said evenly. "It can't happen again."

"Why?" I demanded, before I could stop myself. "Because I'm a man? Because I'm not good enough for you?"

“Because you deserve better. " He spat it out.

I blinked.

That… wasn't the answer I was expecting.

He exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You have no clue what you're getting yourself into with me, Louis. I'm not the kind of man who can give you the softness you fucking deserve."

"I didn't ask for softness."

His eyes locked on mine, angry and wild—and something more, something deeper.

We stood there for a long, silent moment.

Then, just as quickly, he stepped back.

"Come on. We're done here."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I wandered the villa alone that night. My thoughts were too loud to sleep, and my body was too tight in its skin. I ended up in the study, where I came across an old bookshelf and some dusty records.

I was scanning the spines when I heard footsteps behind me.

Elias stood in the doorway, without his jacket, his sleeves rolled up. His eyes were tired, but he was alert.

"You couldn't sleep either?" I asked.

"No," he said simply.

We didn't talk. We just stood there, staring at each other.

"I noticed something," I said after a bit.

"What?"

"You're different here."

His eyes narrowed. "Different how?"

"Softer. But also… colder."

He laughed. A hollow sound. "That's the Amalfi effect."

"No," I said, moving a step closer. "That's the you effect."

Again, we were close. Again, I felt the pull.

And again, he didn't move.

I reached up—just barely. My fingertips brushed his wrist. His eyes widened, and his hand closed around mine, tight.

"Louis…" His voice was gravel and smoke. "You're playing with fire."

"Maybe I want to burn."

His breath caught.

But then, he let go of my hand, pushing me back firmly but not rough.

"No," he said, low and dead serious. "This ends now."

I looked at him—really looked. And I saw then, it wasn't anger in his eyes.

It was fear.

Not of me.

Of himself.

I left him there, jaw set, shoulders rigid, staring at the floor like it had the answers to questions he didn't want to ask.

And I went back to my room with one thought repeating in my head:

This man is going to ruin me.

And I might just allow him to.