Page 90 of Ruthless Arrangement

“Please, sit,” he gestures to a comfortable chair. “I imagine you’re exhausted.”

I sink into the seat, cradling my coffee cup like a shield. “It was a long night.”

“You saved his life,” Alessandro states, taking the chair opposite mine. “That creates a certain bond between people. A debt.”

“I didn’t do it for a debt,” I say.

His smile is knowing, even indulgent. “No, I don’t imagine you did. Which makes it all the more significant.” He studies me for a long moment. “Our first meeting…perhaps I underestimated the mettle beneath the journalistic curiosity.” “You’re not what I expected, Ms. Song.”

“What did you expect?”

“Someone more malleable. Someone who would be overwhelmed by Nico’s world, either running from it in terror or succumbing to its allure.” He sips his coffee. “Instead, you maintain a curious balance, neither fully rejecting nor entirely embracing what you’ve witnessed. It’s unusual.”

I’m not sure if it’s a compliment or an accusation. “I’m here to document, not judge.”

“Are you?” His tone suggests he knows better. “Is that why you picked up a gun last night? For documentation?”

The coffee suddenly tastes bitter on my tongue. “I acted on instinct.”

“Yes. That’s my point.” Alessandro leans forward. “When instinct overrides calculation, we reveal our true selves. And your instinct was to protect him, even at the cost of taking a life.”

I have no answer for that. The truth of his observation settles uncomfortably in my chest. My actions last night weren’t those of a detached journalist or even a manipulative strategist. They were raw, unfiltered impulses that revealed feelings I’ve been trying to deny.

Alessandro seems to take my silence as confirmation. “Nico had a difficult childhood,” he says, changing direction. “His parents were killed when he was seven. A business disagreement that turned violent.”

The image of the feverish Nico calling for his father flashes in my mind. “He found them,” I say softly, the pieces connecting.

Alessandro’s eyebrows lift in surprise. “Yes. How did you know?”

“He was delirious last night. He remembered being kept from seeing his father.”

“I tried to protect him from the worst of it,” Alessandro says, voice distant with memory. “But he heard the gunshots. Saw the blood before I could get him away from the scene.” He sighs heavily. “No child should witness such things.”

“So you raised him,” I prompt, curious despite myself about the forces that shaped Nico into the man he became.

“I did what was necessary. Taught him to protect himself in a world that had already shown its cruelty.” Alessandro’s gaze sharpens. “The first lesson was control of himself, then of others. The second was strategy. Never act from emotion. Never reveal weakness.”

“You taught him to manipulate,” I translate.

“I taught him to survive,” he corrects. “And he has done more than survive. He has thrived in a world that would have destroyed a lesser man.” There’s unmistakable pride in Alessandro’s voice. “But he has paid a price for that success.”

“Marco,” I say quietly.

Alessandro nods. “Marco was the closest thing to a friend Nico allowed himself. His death. It will change him.”

“He was different last night,” I admit. “When the fever broke through his control.”

“Vulnerability is not a state Nico permits himself,” Alessandro agrees. “Which makes what I observed between you even more remarkable.”

I tense. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve never seen him react to anyone the way he reacts to you. How he trusts you.” Alessandro’s gaze is penetrating, as if he can see through my constructed masks to the confusion beneath. “And I’ve never seen him more dangerous than when he thought you were threatened.”

The statement lands hard. Trust. The word feels like mockery when I know our entire relationship has been built on mutual deception. I’ve been playing him just as he’s been playing me and using seduction as strategy, intimacy as a weapon.

“You’re wrong,” I say, voice steadier than I feel. “Nico doesn’t trust me. He’s been manipulating me from the beginning.”

Alessandro’s smile is knowing. “The two aren’t mutually exclusive, Ms. Song. Nico can manipulate you while also trusting you. Human emotions are rarely tidy or consistent.” He rises. “Think about what I’ve said. And consider your own motives with equal honesty.”

---