Morning light crept stealthily through the window, finding Lara already awake, wrapped in silence and rumpled sheets. Vincenzo slept beside her, his back muscles exposed, his breathing slow and deep.
She watched him for a long moment, then rose quietly, slipping into the silk robe he'd left draped over the chair. In the bathroom mirror, her reflection stared back at her: tousled hair, swollen lips, purple marks on her neck.
What have I done? But the answer was there in her eyes, in the glow that hadn't yet faded, in the fire he'd kindled that now refused to die.
It was more than sex. More than revenge. And that terrified her more than any contract.
When she came out of the bathroom, Vincenzo was already dressed, immaculate as always, pouring coffee into two porcelain cups. He looked at her, and for a second, Lara saw something different in his eyes, something that seemed almost human.
But then he held out an envelope.
"Your father will be released today at 2 p.m."
She took the envelope with trembling hands.
"And our contract?"
"It continues." He took a sip of coffee. "This wasn't forgiveness, Lara. This was only the beginning."
She pressed her lips together but didn't argue. Instead, she looked at the cup he offered her.
"And now?"
Vincenzo smiled, the same predatory smile as always.
"Now you wear blue. And at eight tonight, you're having dinner with the prosecutor who put your father in prison."
Lara froze.
"Why?"
"Because I want to see how far you're willing to go."
He raised his cup in a silent toast, his eyes burning with an unspoken promise.
Lara held the envelope as if it were made of glass. Inside were the release papers. A name, a date, a cold judge's signature. It was there, black and white: her father would be freed.
But at what cost? She didn't reply. Didn't react. She simply walked to the window, keeping her back straight and her face impassive, though inside, a war raged.
"You're too quiet," Vincenzo remarked, still in that calm, almost bored tone.
"I'm trying to understand," she said, turning to face him. "You give me this… my father's freedom… and in the same breath, you shove me into a dinner with the man who locked him up?"
"I gave you a choice, Lara. You can go… or go." He shrugged. "What you do there is up to you. Smile, stay silent, pour the wine. Just don't forget: Vincenzo Vasquez's companion has a role to play."
She let out a dry, disbelieving laugh.
"Companion? Is that what I am now?"
He stepped closer, setting his cup aside. His hands settled on her waist with the same precision he used to handle figures and contracts. A firm, inescapable touch.
"You're the price. And I, Lara… am the collector."
She stared at him, searching his eyes for any hesitation. But all she saw was control. And for some reason she hated, it set her burning inside.
*****
The call came at 5:27 p.m.
The setting sun bathed the buildings in a melancholy gold. Lara was sitting on the penthouse balcony, wrapped in a rare silence, trying to find a moment's breath in the whirlwind her life had become. The soft breeze carried the city's scent: the asphalt still warm, the distant aroma of coffee from a neighbor's apartment. For the first time in days, she allowed herself to believe that maybe the worst was over.
Until her phone buzzed.
The lawyer's name flashed on the screen, and a chill ran down her spine, as if an icy blade had traced a line along her neck. Something was wrong. Lawyers didn't call without a reason.
"Dr. Fagundes? Is everything all right?"
On the other end of the line, there was a heavy, cutting silence. When he finally spoke, his voice was tight with a tension that made Lara's fingers clamp down on the arm of the chair.
"Lara… your father… he's disappeared."
The world collapsed. Air fled her lungs as if someone had punched her in the stomach. The city sounds, the honking cars, the distant murmur of people on the street, vanished, replaced by a shrill ringing in her ears.
"What?"
"He was released from prison as planned, at 2 p.m. He got into a private car that was supposedly sent by you or Vasquez. Since then, he hasn't arrived at the agreed address, nor answered any calls. The car vanished." A pause. "And… the police aren't treating this as just a simple delay."
The phone slipped from her fingers, dropping into her lap with a dull thud. Lara couldn't breathe. Her father. Free for only a few minutes. And now… gone.
Kidnapped.
She couldn't even remember leaving the balcony, but suddenly she was storming through the apartment like a hurricane, her footsteps echoing across the marble floor. Vincenzo's office was at the end of the hallway, its solid wooden doors always shut, as if concealing secrets she didn't even want to know.
Without thinking, she shoved the door open so hard it slammed against the wall with a crash that made the picture frames tremble.
"Where is he?!"
Vincenzo was standing behind his computer, immaculate as ever, wearing a suit that cost more than a year of an ordinary worker's salary. His fingers danced across the keyboard with infuriating calm, as if she hadn't just barged in like a cornered animal. He didn't even turn around immediately. He finished typing something before lifting his eyes to her, cold and calculating.
"Good afternoon, Lara."
"Don't you dare provoke me!" Her hands were trembling, rage and fear swirling into a storm that made her feel like she was about to explode. "My father is missing. He's been kidnapped! Did you know about this?"
His eyes narrowed, a shadow passing over his face before the mask of indifference returned.
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
"It was a car registered to your company that picked him up. The lawyer confirmed it! And you were the only person who knew where he'd be staying."
He stood slowly, every movement deliberate, like a predator preparing to strike.
"Are you accusing me of kidnapping the man I just had released from prison?"
"I'm saying you're capable of that. And more."