Chapter 6- Reckless Plan
The drive back to the mansion was thick with silence.
Not the peaceful kind. The kind that simmers.
The kind that feels like a match just waiting to be struck.
Alessandro sat beside me, his broad frame consuming space and air and sanity. He didn’t speak. Didn’t look at me. Just stared straight ahead like some fucking stone statue sculpted for brooding and murder.
God, I hated him.
The way he appeared out of nowhere. The way he always seemed calm, even when the world was on fire. The way he made me feel—like I was something breakable.
I was not breakable.
I was fire.
And I was burning.
The mansion’s iron gates opened like obedient soldiers, and the car rolled into the long, winding driveway. The tires crunched over the gravel, a sound that felt like bones cracking under boots.
As soon as the vehicle stopped in front of the grand marble steps, I didn’t wait for the driver to open the door. I shoved it open and stepped out in one violent motion, heels clicking on stone like gunshots.
I slammed the door behind me, loud enough to echo through the estate like a warning shot.
Behind me, I heard the soft click of the other door opening.
No.
I turned, every hair on my body standing on end as Alessandro emerged, slow and silent, that predator stillness wrapped around him like a second skin. His shirt was barely rumpled, despite the chaos we’d just walked through. His jaw was tight, and his eyes…
Those cold, blue eyes tracked me with precision.
Like prey.
I squared my shoulders, storming up a few steps before spinning on my heel to face him.
“You better stay out of my way,” I said, voice sharp, slicing through the stillness. “If you value your life.”
Nothing.
Not a blink. Not a flinch.
He just stared.
Infuriating.
“You think just because my father pays you to hover over me like some grim reaper on retainer, I’m going to listen to you?” I hissed. “You think I’m scared of you?”
Still nothing.
God, it made me want to scream.
“You’re not special,” I snapped, taking another step forward. “I’ve broken men twice your size for looking at me the wrong way. So unless you want to end up as a story I tell over brunch, back. The fuck. Off.”
He tilted his head, just slightly, as if inspecting me. As if trying to decide whether I was a threat or just a tantrum in designer heels.
And then… he walked past me.
Didn’t say a word.
Didn’t look at me.
Just brushed by like I was air.
Like I wasn’t even there.
My blood boiled.
“Asshole,” I muttered under my breath, but not low enough for him not to hear.
I stormed into the house, past the marble columns and the flickering chandeliers, past the polished floors that reflected the storm in my eyes. The maids looked up as I passed, eyes wide, but no one dared say a word.
They knew better.
Everyone in this house knew better than to talk to me when I was like this.
I climbed the stairs two at a time, fists clenched at my sides, heart pounding. I didn’t stop until I reached the third floor, turned the corner, and shoved open the door to my room so hard it banged against the wall.
I stepped inside and slammed it shut behind me.
Locked it.
And then I screamed.
A full-bodied, primal scream straight into my pillow as I collapsed on the bed, face-first. The soft silk sheets muffled the sound, but I didn’t care. My throat burned. My muscles trembled.
“I hate him,” I growled into the fabric.
“I hate him, I hate him, I hate him!”
I flipped onto my back, chest heaving.
What the hell was his problem?
Why wouldn’t he just leave?
I kicked off my heels and threw one across the room. It hit the closet door with a sharp thud. The other followed. Then my earrings. Then the stupid clutch I’d carried.
Everything was wrong. This wasn’t the night I wanted. It was supposed to be fun. Freeing. Powerful. I wanted to feel like a goddess in control of her world—and for a moment, I had.
I sat up, wiping the sweat from my temple, my hair a mess around my shoulders. My skin buzzed with leftover adrenaline. My blood still raced like it hadn’t gotten the memo that the fight was over.
Except it wasn’t.
Not really.
Because Alessandro was still here.
Still in this house.
Still breathing my air.
Still—
Trusted.
And just like that, the thought dropped into my mind like a lit match on gasoline.
He was here because my father trusted him.
That meant he was important.
He was useful.
That meant…
My lips curled into a slow, wicked smile.
That meant I knew exactly how to get rid of him.
Not by begging.
Not by throwing tantrums or yelling at the walls.
No.
If my father trusted him—if he truly believed Alessandro was the best protection money could buy—then all I had to do…
Was prove he wasn’t.
Break that trust.
Destroy the illusion.
Make him look like a failure.
And daddy dearest would drop him faster than a stock crash.
I laughed—low and delicious and dangerous.
It felt good.
Better than good.
It felt right.
Because if Alessandro wanted to play the silent protector, the stoic soldier, the unflinching shadow… then I’d become his worst nightmare.
I’d be chaos.
I’d be temptation.
I’d be fire.
And I’d burn his perfect little reputation to the ground.
All I needed was the right setup.
The right moment.
And I was very, very good at creating moments.
I slipped off the bed and padded barefoot to the mirror, looking at my reflection with narrowed eyes. Makeup smudged. Hair wild. Eyes still gleaming with fury and something sharper—strategy.
I smoothed my hair down and grabbed a wipe, erasing the last of my lipstick.
My mind worked in overdrive.
What would humiliate a man like him?
What would make my father think Alessandro was a liability instead of an asset?
I grinned.
Sex scandal? Too obvious.
Abandoning duty? Too forced.
But manipulation?
Ah, that was my art.
Make him lose control.
Get under his skin. Make him snap. Turn stoic into reckless.
Because if Alessandro so much as raised his voice at me, laid a finger on me—even in defense—my father would cut ties. Instantly.
All I had to do… was poke the bear.
And I had claws.