Bound in shadows

Chapter 4: Beneath the Mask

(First-Person POV: Alessia)

Days at the De Luca estate began to blur together, each one indistinguishable from the next. The mornings were filled with strained civility: breakfast served on fine china, with Matteo offering clipped greetings and me doing everything in my power to ignore him. Afternoons meant aimless wandering through the manicured gardens, Nico trailing behind me like a silent shadow. Evenings were oppressive, spent dining in near silence with Matteo, Luca, and an occasional lieutenant. But the nights were the worst.

Alone in my room, surrounded by the cold luxury of the estate, I felt the walls closing in. My mind raced with every possibility—every escape plan, every way this could end badly. It was suffocating.

By the fifth night, I couldn't take it anymore. The stillness of my room was unbearable, a silence so loud it felt like it was pressing against my skull. I threw on a cardigan over my nightdress and slipped out into the hallway, grateful for once that Nico wasn't stationed outside my door.

The estate was eerily quiet at night. The moonlight filtering through the massive windows cast long shadows on the walls, and the faint hum of the security system was the only sound accompanying the soft padding of my bare feet against the cold marble floor. I wasn't sure where I was going—anywhere but my room.

As I neared Matteo's study, faint voices drifted toward me, low and urgent.

I hesitated, the rational part of my brain screaming at me to turn around, but curiosity anchored me in place. Pressing myself against the wall, I inched closer to the slightly ajar door, straining to make out their words.

"Do you think this is sustainable, Matteo?" Luca's voice was sharp, impatient.

There was a pause, then Matteo replied, his tone low and measured. "Do you have a better suggestion?"

"We've already had two shipments intercepted this month," Luca snapped. "If Romano's allies suspect anything, they'll come for us, marriage or not."

"They won't," Matteo said firmly. "This alliance has bought us time, and I'll make sure it stays intact."

"Time isn't enough," Luca argued. "You're gambling with everything we've built—"

"I'm protecting it," Matteo interrupted, his voice like a whip.

The sudden shift in his tone sent a chill down my spine. Matteo rarely raised his voice, but when he did, it carried the weight of absolute authority.

There was a long pause before Luca spoke again, his tone softer but no less pointed. "And her? What's the plan there?"

My breath hitched.

"What about her?" Matteo's voice was cold now, guarded.

"She's a loose thread," Luca said. "You know that. You can control her for now, but what happens when she stops playing along? When she becomes a liability?"

I clenched my fists, anger bubbling beneath my skin. A liability? Was that all I was to them?

Before I could move, Matteo's reply stopped me in my tracks.

"She's not a liability," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Alessia is mine to deal with. You'll stay out of it."

"Yours?" Luca's voice dripped with disbelief. "You actually believe she's going to stay loyal to you? To us?"

"She doesn't have to be loyal," Matteo said quietly. "She just has to stay alive."

I didn't remember walking to the library, but somehow, I found myself there, sinking into one of the armchairs. My hands trembled as I clutched a book I'd pulled off the nearest shelf without even glancing at the title.

"She just has to stay alive."

Matteo's words echoed in my mind, over and over, until they felt like a weight pressing down on my chest. Was that all I was to him? A pawn in his game? A bargaining chip to keep the peace?

But it wasn't just the words that haunted me—it was the way he'd said them. There had been something beneath his cold, calculated tone, something I couldn't quite place. Was it regret? Guilt? Or something else entirely?

The next morning, Matteo found me in the dining room, where I was half-heartedly picking at a bowl of fruit.

"Good morning, cara," he said, his voice smooth as silk as he took the seat across from me.

"Don't call me that," I muttered, stabbing a piece of pineapple with my fork.

He tilted his head, studying me with those dark, unreadable eyes. "You've been quieter than usual."

"I didn't realize my mood was of such great concern to you."

His lips twitched, the barest hint of a smile. "It is when it disrupts my peace."

I dropped my fork onto the plate with a sharp clatter, leaning forward to meet his gaze. "Your peace? That's rich coming from the man who dragged me into this mess."

"Dragged you?" Matteo leaned back in his chair, his expression calm despite the challenge in my tone. "If I recall correctly, your father made that decision. Not me."

"And you had no choice, right?" I shot back. "You're just a helpless victim in all this."

His jaw tightened, but his voice remained steady. "Think what you want, Alessia, but you're here now. And I suggest you get used to it."

I opened my mouth to argue, but he stood abruptly, cutting me off.

"Come with me," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"Where?"

"You'll see."

He led me outside, through the gardens and toward a secluded courtyard at the back of the estate. A low stone wall surrounded the space, and in the center stood a fountain, its water glittering in the sunlight.

"What's this?" I asked, crossing my arms.

He gestured to a bench near the fountain. "Sit."

I hesitated, then reluctantly obeyed, watching as he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one.

"You don't smoke," I said, surprised.

"Not often," he admitted, exhaling a plume of smoke. "But sometimes it helps me think."

I studied him, trying to make sense of this sudden change in demeanor. He wasn't the cold, calculating man I'd seen at dinner last night. This version of Matteo seemed almost… human.

"What do you want from me?" I asked finally, my voice softer than I intended.

He glanced at me, his expression unreadable. "I want you to understand what's at stake. For both of us."

"And what exactly is at stake?"

"Everything," he said simply.

For a brief moment, the mask he always wore slipped, and I saw something behind it—a flicker of vulnerability, of fear. It was gone in an instant, replaced by the unshakable confidence that seemed to define him. But that fleeting moment was enough to remind me that Matteo De Luca, for all his power and control, wasn't invincible.

And neither was I.