𝐈𝐈𝐈. “Prove you can do it.”

Cesare doesn’t answer immediately. He simply watches me, measuring me with his eyes. No hurry, no emotion, just that suffocating silence he knows how to command better than any threat, a silence more lethal than anything his brother could do with his bare hands.

“Yes, Marina.” He finally says, tilting his head slightly. “If you can find out what the Bianchis are plotting, bring me proof of it… I’ll allow you to leave this world and everything we stand for. You’ll walk away. Untouched.”

The skin on my back prickles, already feeling the black ink marking a loyalty I never wanted.

“But.” Cesare rises now, his broad shoulders filling the space, his presence almost smothering.

He slowly walks around the table until he stops in front of me, leaning down slightly to match my height, his face so close I can feel his warm breath on my skin.

“…If you try to fool the Famiglia, Marina… If you betray us…” Cesare pauses, bringing his lips close to my ear, sharing a secret: “There will be no place in this world where you can hide from me.”

My breath falters, and although I try to hide it, I know he noticed. He always notices.

He pulls back just enough to look at my face, but still lets me feel the ghost of his breath on my cheek.

Matteo slams his hand on the table, causing me to flinch, but I can’t step back. The woody scent mixed with tobacco burns like poison—paralyzing, corroding me from the inside out.

“You’re seriously considering sending this bitch to Enzo, Cesare?” Matteo sneers, his voice sharper than usual, more dangerous, growling like a dog straining against a chain.

Cesare turns his head slowly, looking over my shoulder as though the interruption is an irritating noise too loud to ignore but too low to deserve his full attention.

“Watch your tone, Fratellino,” he says dryly. “You’re starting to bark too loudly.”

Once again, I almost choke on my own breath. I don’t know what makes me more tense: the closeness of Cesare, the tightly leashed rage simmering under Matteo’s skin—or the tension between the two brothers that can only end in disaster.

“She can’t do it,” Matteo grits out. “If the Bianchis even suspect, we’ll be at war again. Is that really what you want to do while Salvatore’s away?”

Cesare straightens up, his eyes now fixed on Matteo, who remains sitting. At last, my body responds, and I manage to step back, resting my hand on the table, worried my high heel will give out and reveal just how much I despise this closeness, this tension that makes my stomach feel warm…

“Are you questioning my judgment, Matteo?” Cesare’s voice dropped, chilling the room with its tone alone.

“That’s not it,” he mutters, restless, running a hand through his black hair, though a few rebellious strands still fall across his forehead. “You said yourself she doesn’t have what it takes. The bitch’s gonna screw this up for sure. And we can’t take that risk.”

Cesare extends his hand, crossing the space I’ve worked so hard to create with just a controlled gesture, turning me to face Matteo. He places his palm on the top of my back, and even though everything about this man feels cold, his touch is unexpectedly warm. Scorching. Not even my hair can shield me from the intense sensation sliding dangerously downward, despite my best efforts to block it.

“You’re right. I did say that.” Cesare presses his thumb lightly against my nape, right at the top of my spine, and I straighten more, obeying his silent command before I can even think about it. “Even though Zia Nora approved Marina’s test, I never saw the proof. No one did. Only her. And now, I wonder why.”

The test... the proof no one else saw, yet it was passed without a second thought, proving I was ready to serve the family by any means necessary.

Traditionally, Società’s female associates learn how to hold a gun, hit the right place with a knife, and especially how to destroy without weapons, blood, and with a smile. That’s the art of seduction—and I learned it, too.

Many men have lost empires because of women. Due to love. Due to lust. Because they craved just one taste. Because they wanted it so badly, they lost their minds in every way possible.

So, for an entire year, Zia Nora made sure I knew every trick, while Ottavio Romano, the third son, taught me how to fight, shoot, and kill.

But Cesare’s doubt makes memories flash through my mind, and my heart skips a beat.

I look at Matteo, who narrows his eyes slightly, jaw clenched, lips twitching in a frustrated gesture he tries to conceal with a sneer and a fierce glint in his dark eyes, black as obsidian.

“Does it matter?” Matteo scoffs. “Even if Zia didn’t pass her out of sheer whim, Enzo Bianchi’s on another level. You know he’s the favorite to lead the Fratellanza Bianca. His older brother doesn’t even stand a chance.”

He clenches his jaw, as if the very thought of me getting under a Bianchi’s skin strikes a nerve in him, and he clicks his tongue with a tsk, more irritated than sarcastic.

“You really think this little brat can make him look past the contracts those noble di merda are so proud of?”

Brat? He’s not that older than me.

Why does this crazy jerk act like he’s old and wise?

I open my mouth to snap back, but Cesare is faster. Actually, even if his voice hadn’t come first, I doubt I could’ve said anything, not with the way his thumb starts sliding slowly down, tracing my spine.

“You’re right, Teo.” Despite the affectionate nickname, there’s no warmth in his voice. “Why don’t we put it to the test, then?”

“What?” I finally find my voice, spinning toward him, hoping my sudden movement will stop that dangerous touch. But it only makes things worse, because now, his hand is fully open on my back, almost possessive, right where their mark will be if I don’t buy my freedom with this deal—or run and die trying.

“You heard him, Marina. Prove you can seduce Enzo Bianchi, and I’ll let you take your shot and fight for your freedom.”

Cesare leans over me again, and I hold my breath. I don’t want to intoxicate myself any further. I don’t want to fill my lungs with his scent.

“…Make Matteo get an erection.”

My breath hitches anyway, eyes widening.

“Without. Touching. Him.”