Page 121 of Shadows of Steel
Dante barely allows me out of his sight. Even now, as I move through my pilates routine, I can feel the weight of his gaze searing into me from his office window. I don’t need to look to confirm it, I know he’s there. Watching. Guarding.
And the security detail? They hover like vultures, maintaining a respectful distance yet poised to intervene at the first sign of trouble.
My body flows through the motions. My muscles burn, but I welcome the discomfort. Anything to quiet the relentless hum of unease in my mind.
I freeze mid-stretch, my pulse hammering against my ribs as my eyes catch a flicker, a shadow.
My gaze snaps toward the far window, the one in the west wing. That part of the estate is rarely occupied, its rooms untouched, steeped in silence. Yet, for the briefest moment, I swear I saw movement behind the glass.
A sharp jolt of adrenaline slices through me.
I swallow, forcing logic to override instinct. It’s probably Bianca. One of the maids, tending to the space, shifting things around.
Or maybe… I’m just imagining things.
A slow exhale escapes me as I shake my head, pushing through the last of my stretches. But the unease doesn’tdissipate. A cold weight lingers in the pit of my stomach, pressing down, heavy and unshakable.
What if it’s him?
The thought crashes into me with brutal force, stealing the breath from my lungs. It’s not like he hasn’t been in this house before.
I grit my teeth. No. I refuse to let him invade my mind, to dictate my every move, to reduce me to a prisoner in my own home.
And yet.
Even as I finish my workout, the feeling refuses to leave me. It lingers, like a whisper at the back of my mind.
The guards keep their position as I make my way back into the house. They follow me only to the main hallway before scattering back to their assigned posts.
Good.
I don’t need an audience for this.
I move through the quiet corridors, my steps soft against the marble. The west wing is always empty. Always silent.
So why the fuck was there movement?
As I approach the room, I notice the guard first. He stands rigid in front of the door, his expression blank but his body language screams tension.
I slow my steps, coming to a stop before him. “Why are you here?”
The guard doesn’t answer immediately and a flicker of unease coils in my stomach.
“I’m under strict orders from Mr. Salvatore.” He replies evenly, his tone careful.
I couldn’t care less.
“What’s behind the door? Why are you standing watch?” My voice is smooth.
His jaw tightens. “I’m afraid I can’t say.”
I take a step closer, my gaze unwavering, cutting through him. “Open it.”
“Ma’am—"
“Now.”
He hesitates. I arch a brow, my voice dropping to a lethal whisper. “That wasn’t a request.”
