4. Eyes of the Castle

Chapter 4

Eyes of the Castle

With a white cotton towel wrapped around my body, I cross my arms, staring up at the security camera in the corner of the bathroom, fuming, utterly dismayed.

This motherfucker.

Thank God the toilet is situated behind a separate door otherwise, I would erupt with humiliation knowing that someone was watching me... go . Milo did say that I should get used to having no privacy but this?

This is unacceptable, improper, intolerable .

Go take a shower, Kiara. Well, now I can see why he was pushing it so hard. What a sick, twisted pervert. I refuse to be a channel that he and his goons can turn on whenever they're feeling frisky and need a little peep show. I've already degraded myself by agreeing to work with the goddamn mafia and I would like to preserve the smidgen of dignity I have left. I wonder how many other cameras are hidden in my room. Does he think I won't mind? That I won't protest? That I won't do something about it?

How naive.

Grinding my teeth, I storm out of the bathroom, scanning the bedroom for a blunt object. As luck would have it, Mr. Di Vaio seems to be a sculpture aficionado, so my options are vast. I hope he's not attached to any of them.

On second thought, I hope he is .

Perhaps the marble lion licking his paw? I run my fingers along its smooth white surface, lifting it up. Pure marble. No. Too heavy. I continue looking. Maybe the archangel Gabriel? I shake my head. No, that would be sacrilegious. Nana would be disappointed. My eyes dart to a bronze Hercules with the weight of the earth on his shoulder. Hmm. This seems like it could be quite aerodynamic.

Snatching the metal statue off the sleek black dresser, I traipse back inside the bathroom, hoping that my hand-eye coordination will not fail me. Maybe the season of baseball my parents signed me up for when I was ten has been ingrained into my muscle memory.

Here's hoping.

Pursing my lips, I line my feet up with the ogling camera, my fingers coiled around the spherical earth of the statue. Taking a steady step backward, I wind up my arm and fling the bronze Hercules toward the camera, quickly jumping back in case it ricochets. I smile triumphantly as the lens of the camera shatters upon impact, the red light dimming as the statue falls to the ground.

I smirk at my handy work. That's better. Now I can get ready in peace.

Milo might be a voyeur but so far, he's not a liar. The outfits Luisa picked out for me are phenomenal, everything designer and nothing under a grand. I've always wanted to own couture, to feel glamorous with expensive fabric draped over my body. Perhaps this is the silver lining. I might no longer have a soul but at least I have Chanel. It could be worse .

Removing an off-the-shoulder chiffon blouse and a black pencil skirt from the velvet hangers, I lay the items on the bed before perching on the upholstered gold stool in front of the rococo vanity table. I barely recognize the woman looking back at me. I'm in Italy, a country I've always wanted to visit, yet I don't feel the joy that's supposed to come with checking an item off one's bucket list.

I adjust the flap on the towel hugging my body as I scan the tubes and containers of make-up in the drawers, shocked to find that the BB cream matches my skin tone. Maybe Luisa color matched me while I was in my Xanax coma.

Nana always told me to find happiness in the little things whenever I was feeling miserable, drained, empty . When your entire world collapses and you lose the most important people in your life, the little things become your life source. The chirping of a bird. The smell of Earl Grey. The warmth of sunshine on your face.

Today, it's make-up.

As I'm about to apply a gorgeous shade of taupe shadow to my lids, Milo and three of his henchmen come bursting inside the room, weapons drawn, ready for battle.

God, they're so dramatic.

"Alright, alright, I'll use the gold eyeshadow," I joke to myself, letting out a soft laugh. Milo stops in front of me, his expression stern, serious. Unbothered by his tense reserve, I continue to do my make-up. "Is there a problem?"

"Is everything alright?" He thoroughly scans the bedroom, hovering behind me, pistol gripped tight. "We received an alert that a security camera had been tampered with."

Oh, that's why they're here. Oops .

"Yeah, I threw Hercules at it." I close one eye and sweep the shimmering dust across my lids. "Was I not supposed to do that?"

"You what ?" he seethes, facing the mirror so that I'm looking at his reflection. I take in his unbuttoned white dress shirt, a tuft of chest hair peeking through the collar, two gold chains around his neck.

"I... disabled it." I give him a sweet smile. "I hope you don't mind."

"Those cameras are connected to sensors on the windows, idiota ." He waves his associates away before snapping his gaze back to mine. He holsters his gun and runs a frustrated hand through his hair. "They are there for your protection ."

"Right, the windows, sure," I scoff, craning my neck toward him, my body following as I stand up. "They're pointed directly at the shower. I'm not an idiot , Milo."

"Do not flatter yourself, Kiara." His jaw twitches with irritation as he sweeps his lecherous gaze across my spilling breasts. "If I wanted to see you naked, I would. And it most certainly would not be through a screen. "

I bite my lip, tilting my head to the side.

So fucking arrogant .

"Is that what you want, Mister Di Vaio?" I toss him a coy pout and cross my arms, inadvertently pushing up my breasts to create more cleavage for him to leer at. "To see me naked?"

He sucks in a sharp breath, dragging two fingers across his lips. "Do not tempt me, Kiara." He flicks his strained gaze up to my defiant eyes. "You are not the only person who struggles with controlling their impulses ."

I swallow, cursing myself for taking us down this road. I'll simply feign ignorance since he already thinks I'm an idiota .

"A bit trigger happy, are we?" I take a step away from the man that's causing my core to ache. "I imagine that's an undesirable trait for a man such as yourself."

He blows air out of his nose, stifling a smile. "Not the impulses I was talking about," he smirks, stalking toward me. "But you knew that."

I clear my throat, refusing to be rattled by this devilish man. "I don't want any cameras in the bathroom. That is non-negotiable."

"I find it endearing that you believe you can negotiate with me, gattina ." He lifts his hand up to my face and drags his thumb slowly along my jaw, outlining my face like he's painting a masterpiece. "Need I remind you who works for whom?"

" Kitten ?" I scoff, fighting the urge to lean into his touch as I swat his hand away. Mind over matter. Always. "I am not a child and don't wish to be addressed like one, thank you very much."

He grins, scratching his chin. "I would argue that destroying thousands of euros worth of security equipment is very child-like, no?"

I glance at the brown leather watch strapped around his wrist and note the brand. Patek Philippe. Of course. "Well, I would argue that a man who can afford a one hundred-thousand-dollar watch can afford a little camera, no ?"

His gaze briefly glances to the luxury Swiss watch, his lips twisting up in amusement. "What can I say? I have expensive taste. But that does not mean your actions go without punishment."

I blink. "Punishment? What are you going to do? Send me to time-out? "

A frown mars his eyebrows. "I am not sure what this time-out means but I doubt it is the punishment I had in mind." His voice turns smoky, taunting, full of deviant insinuation. "This will be your only warning, Kiara. I would recommend that you refrain from destroying any more of my property in the future... unless you're curious, of course."

I bite my lip, pushing the minute itch of curiosity out of my mind. "You're giving me a warning? How very diplomatic of you."

"I do not give warnings often. You will soon learn how undiplomatic I can be."

For the first time since I've been catapulted into this world, I find myself scared by the words rolling off Milo's tongue. There's a promise in his tone, an undeniable truth that sends a shiver down my spine.

"Understood." The reality of who this man is sets in. This isn't a good man. A kind man. A man who will forgive. This is a man who kills. Who slaughters. Who has no remorse.

"Kiara…" He cups my chin, tilting my head up. His expression softens. "I do not mean to frighten you."

I clench my teeth. "I'm not scared ."

"But you are." His faintly cruel eyes burrow into mine. "You need to understand that there are consequences to every action but as long as you listen to me, I will not hurt you, neither will anyone else."

"And if I don't listen to you?"

"Let us hope it does not come to that," he states with an edge before reaching into this pocket. He pulls out my grandmother's locket. "Your necklace."

I take a deep breath. He sure as hell knows how to segue topics. "Thank you," I mutter as he dangles it above my palm .

"Would you like me to put it on for you? It is very beautiful."

"No." I shake my head, a melancholy smile on my face. "I can't wear it, I'm allergic to silver."

"Oh," he hums with a slight frown. "How unfortunate."

"Yeah," I sigh, placing the locket on the vanity table. "It's just a keepsake now."

"I see," he says lightly, heading toward the door. " Allora , you should finish getting dressed, Kiara. Luisa will be here momentarily to escort you to my office. I will see you soon." He pauses, cocking his head to the side as I sit back down on the stool. "I have many questions for you."

I narrow my eyes. "Questions?"

"Yes, I am very curious as to why my private investigator could barely find any information on one Kiara Payne." He lifts an inquisitive brow. "Who are you?"

I blink. "You did a background check on me?"

"Of course." He lets out a melodic chuckle. "I had to make sure I wasn't going to be working with a criminal ."

I grin in spite of myself.

"Hilarious. Do I get to see your background check?"

"Now that is hilarious."