RIO'S POV
The rest of the night was a knife fight under silk.The air crackeld with tension .
Elena sat stiff beside me, her eyes locked on Enzo like she could carve him open with her gaze.
That bastard smirked at the head table with my father and Alfredo, their laughter light and false. Jessica hovered next to them, ignored. To anyone else, it looked like business as usual. To me, it looked like a storm about to break.
Elena's fingers trembled around her champagne flute. She downed it too quickly, then another and another. I watched the storm gather behind her blue eyes and hated that I couldn't cage it for her.
As much as I wanted to put a bullet through the bastard's head right now, there was still so much we needed to know. But watching Elena sit mere inches away from her mother's killer was doing terrible things to my anger issues. I was losing it just as much as her.
The MC announced the "business" portion of the evening ,investors and alliances paraded like cattle cotracts were signed .
Seating told the real story: who sat with whom, which chairs were empty, which glances cut like blades.
I climbed the stage, gave the speech Elena had written for me ,short, elegant. I cut it in half. The sooner I was back at her side, the sooner I could keep her from breaking.
Mariana and Margo flanked her, whispering, grounding her with soft hands. They loved her.
I needed her.
Back at the table, I slid in beside her, caught her hand in mine. She was brittle tonight, no smile, eyes glassy.
"Baby," I murmured low, "we can leave. All of us. Now."
Her lips curved, but it wasn't a smile. "No." Her gaze flicked back to Enzo, and I felt her jaw tighten under my palm.
Enzo leaned into my father, whispered something. They both chuckled, and the sound was wrong. The air tasted of ash. My gut knotted.
"Are you okay?" I asked.
She didn't answer. She didn't have to.
Then Enzo rose. Slow. Purposeful. His eyes never left her as he crossed the floor. The room hushed. He dragged a chair to our table, sat opposite her like this was theater and he owned the stage. He's got guts and I've got a gun.
"Two seconds to stand up and walk away, Enzo," I said, my hand resting easy on my gun. My voice was cold enough to frost the air.
Elena touched my wrist, a ghost of a smile on her lips. "It's okay," she said, but her eyes stayed sharp.
Enzo gives me a quick look before looking at Elena , he tilts his head , a sick grin on his face .
He leaned forward, mockery dripping. "You look so much like her."he whispers loud enough .
It didn't take a genius to know who her was—and my blood boiled. I was seeing red at this point.
Elena stiffened. My pulse snapped.
"I've got her eyes and hair," Elena shot back, venom in her tone. Her glass lifted to her lips as she leaned forward. Enzo looked taken aback. Good.
I pulled the gun free and leveled it at his chest. The click thundered louder than the music. In the corner of my eye, Marco and Mariana mirrored me ,three barrels aimed steady at Enzo. The ballroom air went thin, brittle. He had no idea the lengths we'd go for Elena. One word from her and the three of us would pull the trigger, no hesitation.
"One more word," I said, voice a blade, "and I'll paint your brains across that fresco."i warned .
The smirk drained from Enzo's face. His hands shook just enough for me to see.
He realized Elena wasn't alone. She had people on her side who would kill him in an instant.
Elena rose, leaned in close palms on the table and her face inches from Enzo's. Her voice was sweet as venom. "I'll be seeing you soon, Enzo," she whispered, and the man physically flinched.
That promise silenced him better than my gun. He backed away, slow, retreat in his posture. The room exhaled, noise and music bleeding back in.
We lowered our weapons. Elena reached for another bottle. I caught it first hard.
"Enough. We're going home," I said, sharper than I meant.
Her eyes flared, wet and angry. Her attitude is something else, and I wasn't having it tonight. She needed sleep, not alcohol.
"Don't tell me what to do, Rio," she snapped, slurred.
She shoved off the table, staggered toward the exit. Even drunk, she's still the most beautiful chaos I've ever seen.
I followed ,two strides and my hand wrapped around her wrist, pulling her back to my chest.
She scowled, eyes burning. "I'll go back to my place. I need to be alone," she said, voice small and trembling.
My jaw locked. Alone wasn't safe. Alone was never safe.
She wiggled away from me and walked out of the mansion. I cursed, running my hand through my hair as I followed her out. She was walking in the wrong direction ,she didn't even know. I chuckled.
I followed behind her, and within three steps, I caught her arm again and dragged her to the car we came in. I pressed her body against the car, and that made her even more angry ,but I didn't care. One, because I wasn't letting her go anywhere without me; and two, because her attitude does things to me.
"Let me go," she hissed.
I smiled ,dangerous and tired. Her lipstick was smudged, her hair wild, her lips trembling.
"No," I said.
She tried to look away and push me off her . I caught her chin, forced her to meet me. "What part of you're mine did you not understand, princess?" My hand slid to her waist, pulling her flush. Her breath hitched, but she didn't push me away her hands flew to my chest in fists.
"You're drunk. You're angry. But you're not going back to that apartment. You can fight me at home. Scream at me, hate me, throw glass at the walls. But you're coming with me." My breath fanned her cheek, final as a vow. "I promised to protect you. I meant it."
"Now drop the fucking attitude and let's go home ...,"I add with a serious face looking down at her how breath taking she still manges to look even when broken.
Her hands pressed against my chest—not pushing, just anchoring.
Something inside her softened. Her shoulders physically relaxed as she took in a deep breath. I nodded at the action and stepped back a hair. Slowly, she bent, slipped off her heels—the action making her shrink inches shorter. She handed them to me, and I took them gladly. I grinned at the sight, tucked them under my arm, and guided her into the backseat.
She curled up small, knees hugged to her chest, hair curtaining her face. I slid in next to her, hands still trembling from the rush of wanting to kill and kiss in the same breath. I sent a quick text to Mariana to grab Elena's purse on her way out.
The city rolled past in silence. Her pendant swung, faintly smelling of smoke and salt.
That key always had that scent.
My chest ached at the scent.
"Baby," I said, leaning closer, voice softer now. "Look at me."
She turned, mascara streaks glowing in the dim. Guess she didn't wipe her makeup off completely. I brushed her cheek, thumb grazing her lips like a prayer.
"We'll figure it out. Together. But tonight, you rest. Eat. Shower. Sleep,and try to forget " I whispered, pulling her to my side. She was still lost in thought, her eyes dimmed of their usual light. My heart pained at the sight.
Her breath shivered. Then she nodded, small, fragile. "Okay."she sniffled .
I pulled her into my lap. She curled into me, face against my chest, heartbeat syncing to mine.
For now, she was safe.
Mine.
And I'd burn the world to keep it that way.
The convoy slid to a stop; engines died one by one outside my manor. When I left, all my men left with me. She didn't move from me when we reached home , her arms curled around my neck tighter snuggling into me . I chuckle at the sight .
One of my hands kept her steady as we slid out of the car, the other carrying her heels. It felt like a tragic scene written just for us as I walked to the door with her in my arms.
Mariana, Margo, and Marco fell a few steps behind, their whispers soft as moth wings. The mansion loomed quiet ,a sleeping beast. We didn't speak. There would be words tomorrow; tonight, silence held us together.
"You'll be okay. We've got you," Mariana whispered to Elena, pressing her shoulder.
She gave her a brave smile and drifted away with Margo.
Marco squeezed her hand too before he disappeared down the hall.
My steps were light. I carried her to my room like she was something precious and fragile.
"They love you," I murmured, setting her gently on our bed.
"I love them too," she said, her smile dull, not reaching her eyes.
"Shower?" I asked.
She nodded. I disappeared, returning with the soft click of water running, then the scent of lavender as I started her bath.She was still staring into space . I hate seeing her like this .
I helped her strip from her dress and wrapped a fluffy towel around her.I wish this day would have ended different, with me peeling off this gorgeous dress and dragging that thigh strap down with my teeth . Claiming her like I always do. But tonight she didn't need crazy sex she needed peace , she needed me .
I slid the glass open, and we stepped into the tub. Warm water closed around her , lavender foam and rose petals floating like slow confetti.
She sank into the water ,the warmth making her muscles relax.She sighs , eyes closed and I just watch her for a second.
I watched with a proud smile.
I love seeing her like this. Relaxed. Mine.
Soon, I joined her in the tub after I picked a shirt and my boxers for her and placed it on our bed my shirt, of course.She looks angelic in my clothes .
She sighed, pressing her back to my chest when I got behind her in the tab.
My hands moved around her waist, pulling her closer. I slid my hand on her arms, and she relaxed even more at the action.
For a moment, it was just silence and bubbles as I traced her arms softly.
She was small, fragile against me ,like glass I had to hold carefully not to break.
She leaned forward, dragging her knees up to her chest.
I washed her hair softly, massaging her scalp, easing out the tension for her. I bathed her slowly, loving how her skin felt against my palms. God, I could get used to this.
And then I started humming.
"Island of the Grey Stones."
A tune my mom sang to me and Mariana when we were little.
Elena turned slightly. Her key necklace dangled a little.
"I know that song…" her voice came small, her blue eyes boring into mine.
My fingers froze, tangled in her beautiful mess of wet hair.
"You do?" I asked with a small smile. My voice was also a whisper, as if speaking louder would shatter this moment.
"Mmhm… my mom used to sing it for me," she said, turning around as I kept washing her hair.
Coincidence, maybe?
Maybe.
I wrapped her in a towel and set her on the counter once I was done bathing her. The porcelain was cold against her skin, so I moved quickly dabbing her dry, combing my fingers through her wet hair and also using her brush until it fell soft against my hands.
Then she looked at me blue eyes red at the edges, worn, raw and for a second, I almost forgot to breathe.
"Better?" My voice came out low, almost careful.
"Yeah… thank you, for… well… everything." She rested her head against my chest like it belonged there.
My palm rubbed slow circles on her back, steady like I could convince her the night hadn't touched her.
"You were so brave tonight," I whispered against her hair. "You handled that perfectly, amor."
Brave. She didn't see it. But I did.
She let out a laugh that was closer to disbelief than joy. "Me? Brave? I was a mess. Sweat, smudged makeup…"
She didn't get it—how she walked straight into fire and didn't crumble.
There was a silence I didn't want to break.
Then she whispered, "I had rehearsed a lot of things… but I never knew what I'd do if I ever confronted my mom's killer."
Her words cut something inside me. I pulled back just enough to tuck a damp strand of hair behind her ear, forcing her to look at me.
"Well… you handled it like a pro. I'm proud of you. And no one will touch you, baby. I'll be here every step of the way." I gave her the truth plain, with the smallest smile I had left.
Later, we sat on the bed. She drowned in my t-shirt, her hair tied up messily, a glass of milk and a plate of Oreos in front of her—her comfort snack.
She'd argued about food like it mattered. I wanted her to have something real, something that would put strength back into her veins—but of course, she's stubborn as always.
"Baby… the chicken rice would have been better," I huffed, sliding onto the bed beside her.
She giggled, lazy and unbothered, dunking another cookie. "Well, I'm too lazy to eat all that," she said with an eye roll.
And just like that, the ball, the keys, the death threats—they blurred into background noise just for a moment.
For tonight, it was only us. Her smile soft but not reaching her eyes, her laugh unguarded, my arm brushing hers in the quiet. A girl in my shirt, crumbs on her lips, and the dangerous illusion that maybe, just maybe, we could be normal.
Normal—for now, before the sun rises. Because when it does—
War.