Page 89 of Ruthless Arrangement

After what feels like hours, the fever breaks. His restlessness subsides, his breathing deepens, and his skin cools to a more normal temperature.

Exhausted, I sink back into the seat. The clock on the wall shows 4:17 AM. Dawn isn’t far off.

I study Nico’s face in repose, trying to reconcile the different versions of him I’ve witnessed. The calculating manipulator who orchestrated my assignment from the beginning. The ruthless enforcer who broke a man’s fingers without hesitation. The grieving friend who lost control at Marco’s death. The feverish man who spoke of protecting the city. The child who found his father’s blood.

Which is the real Nico Varela? Perhaps all of them. Perhaps none.

And where does that leave me, the woman who killed to save him?

I close my eyes, overwhelmed by exhaustion.Just a moment’s rest,I tell myself.Just until morning comes.

* * *

I blink,disoriented, my neck stiff from sleeping in the chair. The events of the night rush back, the fever, the cooling cloths, Nico’s delirious confessions.

I straighten, checking the bed. It’s empty, sheets thrown back.

Panic flares until I hear water running in the bathroom. A moment later, the door opens and Nico appears, wearing only pajama pants riding low on his hips, fresh bandages stark white against his skin. He moves slowly, mindful of his injuries, but the improvement from last night is remarkable.

“You should be resting,” I say, rising.

“I’ve rested enough.” His voice is stronger, his gaze clear and focused. The vulnerable man from last night is gone, replaced by the controlled, calculating Nico I’ve come to know. But now that I’ve seen beneath the mask, I can’t unsee it.

“How are you feeling?” I ask. The answer is clear in his posture, in the return of his intensity.

“I’ve had worse.” He crosses to a wardrobe and selects a shirt, moving with deliberate care as he slides it on, not bothering with the buttons.

“You had a fever last night,” I tell him. “You were…talking.”

His hands pause in the act of pouring water from a carafe on the nightstand. “What did I say?”

“Different things. Some of it made little sense.” I hesitate, uncertain how much to reveal. “You mentioned Marco a lot. And something about protecting the city.”

He turns to face me, expression opaque. “And that surprised you.”

It’s not a question, but I answer anyway. “It contradicts the narrative that you’re only in this for personal gain.”

The faintest of a smile touches his lips. “Perhaps that’s the narrative you constructed, not the reality.”

Before I can respond, there’s a knock at the door. Nico calls for them to enter, and Alessandro steps into the room, impeccably dressed despite the early hour. He carries a silver tray with coffee service, the domestic gesture incongruous with his aura of controlled power.

“Nephew,” he greets Nico, eyes assessing his condition with clinical detachment. “You look better than expected.”

“I had good care,” Nico replies, with a nod in my direction that feels like more than simple acknowledgment.

Alessandro turns to me, his expression warming. “Ms. Song. I thought you might appreciate coffee after your long night.” He sets the tray on a side table. “Black, if I recall correctly.”

That he knows how I take my coffee is unsettling.

“Thank you,” I manage, accepting the cup he offers. The coffee is perfect, of course, strong and rich, how I prefer it.

“I’d like to speak with Ms. Song,” Alessandro says to Nico. “If you’re stable enough to be left alone for a few minutes.”

Nico’s expression tightens almost imperceptibly. “I’m fine. Take all the time you need.”

I follow Alessandro from the room with a feeling of foreboding. What could he want to discuss with me alone? Has he somehow learned that I’ve been playing his nephew, using seduction as a strategy just as Nico has been using me?

We walk in silence through the grand hallway of the estate. Alessandro leads me to a sun-drenched conservatory filled with exotic plants. The air is warm, humid, smelling of damp earth and sweet blossoms. The glass walls offer a panoramic view of manicured gardens extending to a distant tree line. It’s beautiful, peaceful, a stark contrast to the violence that brought us here.

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