Chapter 12
Marco stood in his study, staring at the flickering fireplace as the flames twisted and curled. Shadows danced across the room, stretching long against the walls. A glass of whiskey sat untouched on the table beside him, forgotten. His mind was elsewhere—on Carmen, on her absence, on the silence she had left behind.
The door creaked open behind him, but he didn’t turn. He knew who it was.
“Long day?” Arianna’s voice was smooth, almost melodic, as she crossed the room. Her heels clicked softly against the polished floors before she stopped a few feet away. “You look like you’re carrying the world on your shoulders, Marco.”
“I don’t have time for games, Arianna,” Marco said, his tone clipped. He kept his gaze on the fire, unwilling to meet her eyes. “What do you want?”
“I want to help,” she said innocently, though her smile hinted at something else. She moved closer, draping herself into the armchair across from him. “You’re spiraling. It’s hard to watch, if I’m honest.”
Marco shot her a look, his brow furrowing. “What are you talking about?”
“You know what I’m talking about.” Arianna tilted her head, a strand of dark hair falling over her shoulder. “She’s gone. Carmen. And it’s making you weak, Marco. People see it. They’re whispering about it.”
Marco’s jaw tightened. “Is that what you came here for? To remind me of my problems?”
Arianna smiled faintly, as though she enjoyed the fire in his tone. “No. I came because I’m worried about you. About the family. About the choices you’re making.”
“I’m making the choices that need to be made,” Marco shot back, his voice colder now.
“Are you?” Arianna’s tone dropped, just slightly. “Because it seems to me you’ve let emotions cloud your judgment. You’re chasing after Carmen like a lost dog when you should be securing the family’s power.”
“Enough,” Marco growled, turning toward her fully.
Arianna didn’t flinch. Instead, she sat back in the chair, crossing one leg over the other as her gaze held his steadily. “You don’t want to hear it, but I’ll say it anyway. Did you ever wonder why Carmen ran, Marco? Did it not strike you as… odd?”
Marco’s brow furrowed. “She was afraid. I failed to protect her.”
Arianna laughed softly, a sound that grated against his nerves. “Afraid? Of you? No, Marco. She wasn’t afraid. She had a plan.”
Marco stiffened. “What are you talking about?”
Arianna leaned forward slightly, her eyes narrowing as she chose her words carefully. “Carmen didn’t just run away. She ran to Vincent Rossi. I’m sure you’ve thought about it—why him of all people? Why your old enemy? Do you really think she just needed a place to hide?”
“She didn’t have anywhere else to go,” Marco replied, though his voice faltered.
“That’s what you tell yourself because it’s easier,” Arianna said, her voice dropping lower. “But what if she had reasons, Marco? Reasons she hasn’t told you.” She paused, letting the silence stretch. “What if Carmen’s departure was part of something bigger?”
Marco stared at her, his mind racing. He could feel the ground shifting under him, the seed of doubt Arianna had planted taking root. “You’re suggesting something, so say it.”
Arianna rose from the chair and took a step closer. “What I’m suggesting is that you stop being blind. Carmen went to Vincent. Vincent, who has every reason to hate you. Vincent, who’s been quiet for far too long. Does that not make you wonder? Does that not make you ask yourself whether she’s working with him?”
Marco’s expression darkened, though he said nothing.
“Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe she’s innocent. But what if she’s not?” Arianna whispered, her voice barely audible. “If you don’t look closer, you might not see the knife until it’s in your back.”
“Get out.” Marco’s voice was calm, but there was steel behind it.
Arianna smiled, that same faint, knowing curve of her lips. “I’m just trying to help, Marco. Think about it.” She turned and walked toward the door, her heels clicking softly, as though she knew her words would linger in the air long after she was gone.
When the door closed behind her, Marco sank into the chair. His hands clenched into fists as Arianna’s accusations echoed in his mind. Vincent. Carmen. Bigger than this. He wanted to dismiss it all as Arianna’s scheming—another manipulation—but the doubts had already taken root.
…
The sun was beginning to set over Vincent’s estate, spilling streaks of orange and red across the horizon. Carmen stood outside near the garden, pulling her coat tighter around her as the air turned cool.
Vincent had disappeared somewhere into the house hours ago, leaving her alone to think. She didn’t mind. She had spent enough time among men like Vincent and Marco to know when silence was a gift.
She glanced at her phone—no messages. No news. Part of her wondered if Marco had stopped looking. Maybe he believed she wasn’t coming back. Maybe, after everything, he didn’t want her to.
Her hand dropped to her stomach instinctively. The smallest swell was starting to show beneath her coat, and the thought of it made her throat tighten. Whatever happened, she couldn’t let herself be weak. She wouldn’t. Not for herself. Not for her child.
The soft sound of footsteps on gravel made her turn. It was Vincent. His hands were shoved into his pockets, and his expression was unreadable.
“I don’t think this quiet suits you,” he said as he stopped a few feet away. “You’ve never been one to hide.”
“I’m not hiding,” Carmen replied, her voice steady.
Vincent raised an eyebrow. “No? Then what are you doing here, Carmen? Waiting for Marco to come and drag you back?”
“No.” She lifted her chin. “I’m making plans.”
“Plans?” Vincent’s tone was mocking, but his gaze sharpened with curiosity. “And what sort of plans are those?”
“I need information,” she said, ignoring the challenge in his voice. “About someone in Marco’s circle. I think she’s the reason for all of this.”
Vincent laughed quietly. “You’re not serious. You want me to help you dig around Marco Venetti’s house of snakes?”
“Not for Marco,” she corrected him. “For me. For my child.”
Vincent’s smirk faded. “And what makes you think I’ll help?”
Carmen met his gaze, unwavering. “Because you don’t like Marco. And because you owe me.”
Vincent’s jaw tightened, and for a long moment, he didn’t answer. Then, with a small sigh, he pulled his hands from his pockets and rubbed the back of his neck. “Fine. I’ll make a few calls. I have some people who like digging up secrets.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” Vincent replied, his voice dry. “You might not like what you find.”
Carmen turned back to the garden, the wind brushing against her cheeks as Vincent walked away. She didn’t know what she would find, but she wasn’t afraid anymore. Arianna had played her games, and Marco might be falling for them, but Carmen wouldn’t sit by and let her destroy everything.
No matter what it took, she would uncover the truth. For herself. For Marco. For their child.
