The Cost of Proximity
The silence Alessandro left behind was heavier than his presence.
Ava remained seated long after the door closed, her pulse still racing, her thoughts tangled in the image of him standing in her room—unguarded, wounded, human in a way she had not been prepared for. She pressed her fingertips together again, grounding herself in the memory of restraint, reminding herself that proximity was not permission.
That was another rule she was learning.
Closeness here always came with a cost.
That night, sleep refused to come. Ava lay awake, staring at the ceiling as shadows shifted faintly across it, replaying the moment his gaze had softened just for a second before hardening again. She had not imagined it. She was certain of that. And the certainty unsettled her more than doubt ever could.
By morning, the estate had returned to its controlled calm.
Too calm.
The kind of calm that followed storms no one spoke about.
Ava moved through her routine with practiced composure, though her awareness was sharper than ever. Guards exchanged brief, coded glances. Conversations cut short when she entered rooms. Alessandro was nowhere to be seen.
She ate breakfast alone.
Again.
But this time, the solitude felt intentional.
Late morning brought an unexpected summons—not from Alessandro, but from a woman Ava had only seen once before.
Bianca Romano.
She waited in one of the smaller sitting rooms, draped in elegance and quiet menace. Her smile was warm. Her eyes were not.
"Ava," Bianca said smoothly. "Please. Sit."
Ava did, instinctively wary.
"I wanted to meet you properly," Bianca continued. "It's not often Alessandro brings someone… so close to the center."
"I didn't have much choice," Ava replied carefully.
Bianca's smile sharpened. "None of us do."
The words carried layers Ava was not yet equipped to fully understand.
"You handled yourself well at the dinner," Bianca said. "Many would have faltered."
"I followed instructions," Ava said.
"Yes," Bianca agreed. "But obedience and intelligence are not the same thing."
Ava met her gaze steadily. "What do you want?"
Bianca studied her for a long moment, then laughed softly. "Direct. I like that. Very well. I want to know how much you see."
Ava felt a chill. "See?"
"Alessandro," Bianca said. "People like him survive by being unreadable. But proximity has a way of… eroding that."
"I see what he allows," Ava said truthfully.
Bianca's gaze flickered with interest and calculation. "Then you're wiser than most."
The conversation ended politely, but Ava left the room with unease settling deep in her chest. Bianca Romano was not an ally. She was not an enemy either.
She was something far more dangerous.
The rest of the day passed without incident, but Ava could feel the subtle shift in how people regarded her. Not just as Alessandro's wife. As someone who knew things.
That evening, Alessandro finally returned.
He found her in the library, standing by the window with a book forgotten in her hands.
"You spoke with Bianca," he said.
It was not a question.
Ava turned slowly. "She sought me out."
His jaw tightened. "She shouldn't have."
"Then perhaps you should tell her that," Ava replied calmly.
His gaze lingered on her, sharp and assessing. "What did she ask you?"
"What you see," Ava said. "What I see."
"And what do you see?" he asked quietly.
She hesitated only a moment. "A man who carries too much alone."
The admission hung between them, raw and unguarded.
Alessandro exhaled slowly. "That is not an answer you give freely."
"I'm not giving it to them," Ava said. "I'm giving it to you."
For a moment, something in his expression shifted—something dangerously close to gratitude. Then it was gone.
"You are standing closer to lines you do not yet understand," he said.
"Then teach me where they are," she replied.
Silence stretched.
Finally, he nodded once. "Very well. But understand this, proximity will not protect you."
"I don't need protection," Ava said quietly. "I need clarity."
His gaze softened with just a fraction. "Clarity comes at a price."
"I'm already paying," she said.
That night, Ava lay awake once more, but this time her thoughts were sharper, more deliberate.
She was no longer just surviving.
She was being positioned.
And with every step closer to Alessandro Romano, she understood one truth with chilling clarity:
The closer she stood to his world, the more it would demand from her.
And one day—sooner than she liked—she would be forced to decide whether proximity was worth the cost.