365 nights of shadow

Chapter 3: The Sicilian Fortress

ELARA

The sun was rising over the Mediterranean, bleeding shades of bruised purple and angry orange across the sky as the private jet touched down. I had spent the last four hours staring at the cabin wall, refusing to look at Sebastian. Every time I felt his gaze on me, my skin prickled with a terrifying mix of dread and a traitorous, unwanted heat.

When the doors opened, the air hit me-warm, thick with the scent of jasmine, lemon groves, and the sea. But I couldn't enjoy it.

"Move," Sebastian commanded. He didn't wait for me. He stepped out into the humid morning, his silhouette sharp against the dawn.

I followed, flanked by Cassius, who walked with a silent, lethal grace. A fleet of black SUVs sat idling on the tarmac. We were whisked away through winding coastal roads, the cliffs dropping off into a sapphire abyss on one side and ancient stone walls rising on the other.

Finally, we reached the estate. It wasn't just a house; it was a fortress of white marble and glass perched on a jagged cliffside. Castello d'Ombra. The Castle of Shadows.

"This is home," Sebastian said as the car doors were opened by men in tactical gear. He didn't look at the house; he looked at me, his eyes tracking the way my throat moved as I swallowed hard.

As we stepped into the grand foyer-a cathedral of cold stone and priceless art-a woman stepped forward. She was tall, with hair the color of midnight pulled into a lethal ponytail and a dress that cost more than my college tuition. Her eyes were fixed on Sebastian with a hunger that made my stomach turn.

"Sebastian," she purred, stepping into his space. "You've been gone too long. The house felt... empty."

"Morrigan," Sebastian said, his voice flat. He didn't move toward her, but he didn't pull away either. He was a statue. "I trust the security updates are complete?"

"Of course," she said, her eyes finally sliding to me. They narrowed, filled with a sudden, sharp venom. "And who is this? Another stray?"

The word stray snapped something in me. I stepped forward, my chin tilting up. "I'm the woman who's going to sue your boss for everything he's worth the second I get to a phone."

Morrigan laughed, a cold, tinkling sound. "Oh, she has a mouth. Sebastian, darling, you know I prefer the ones who know their place."

Sebastian's hand suddenly shot out, gripping the back of my neck. It wasn't painful, but it was absolute. He pulled me flush against his side, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw in a way that made my heart hammer a frantic rhythm.

"She doesn't have a 'place' yet, Morrigan," Sebastian said, his voice dropping an octave. "She is the guest of honor. You will treat her as you treat me. Is that understood?"

Morrigan's smile faltered, her face pale with a flash of pure, unadulterated jealousy. "Perfectly."

"Cassius," Sebastian called out. "Show Elara to the master wing. She needs to bathe. She smells like the 'safe' life she's leaving behind."

I wanted to slap him. I wanted to scream. But as Cassius stepped forward, I realized I was outnumbered and outgunned. For now.

SEBASTIAN

I watched her walk away, her hips swaying slightly under that emerald silk. Even from the back, she looked like she wanted to set the world on fire.

"You're making a mistake," Morrigan hissed the moment Elara was out of earshot. She stepped closer, her perfume cloying and desperate. "She's a liability. She's civilian. You brought a lamb into a den of wolves, Sebastian. My father will hear about this."

I turned on her, my movement so fast she gasped. I didn't touch her-I didn't need to. The sheer weight of my presence was enough to pin her back against the marble pillar.

"Your father lives because I allow it, Morrigan," I said, my voice a low, lethal whisper. "And you are here because you are useful. Do not mistake my tolerance for affection. If you so much as breathe in Elara's direction without my permission, I will remind you why they call me the Butcher of Calabria."

I left her trembling in the foyer and headed toward the west wing. My blood was vibrating. Having Elara under my roof was doing something to my control-it was cracking it.

I reached the master suite and pushed the doors open. I heard the sound of running water.

I walked into the massive, spa-like bathroom. The steam was already rising, obscuring the floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the ocean. Through the frosted glass of the shower, I saw the silhouette of her. Small, curved, and perfect.

I didn't leave. I sat on the edge of the vanity, lighting a cigarette, watching the shadow of the woman I'd spent half a decade dreaming about.

"I know you're there," her voice came through the steam, muffled but defiant.

"I'm sure you do," I replied, exhaling a cloud of gray smoke. "I told you, Elara. I want to know every inch of you. I'm starting with the way you breathe when you think you're alone."

"You're a fucking pervert."

"I'm a man who owns what's his," I corrected. "Finish your bath. There's a dress on the bed. Put it on. We're having dinner, and I expect you to be grateful for the view."

"I'll jump off the balcony first," she snapped.

I stood up, walking to the glass door of the shower. I placed my palm against the warm surface, right where her shoulder was. "If you jump, I'll catch you. And then I'll lock you in a room without windows for the next 364 days. Don't test me, piccola. I'm feeling uncharacteristically patient today. Don't waste it."

I walked out, my heart racing. I could feel the tension in the house tightening like a garrote. Morrigan was a snake, the Russians were circling, and the woman in my shower was a ticking time bomb.

It was going to be a glorious year.