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I tilt my head, studying him for the truth. "Was it?"
"You doubt my word?" he asks softly.
A small, sad smile plays on my lips. I enjoy our last moment together, for I know I’ll never see him again. "Should I?"
"No. You have my word."
My breath catches at his touch as he squeezes my hand one last time. Desire sparks in the air between us, as tangible as the music. I am drowning in his eyes, no longer caring if I surface. All I want is to pull him under with me.
But, fantasies must come to an end, and soon, he will discover that he and I share just one bond in particular: one of enmity.
"Your word," I echo, voice cracking at the lies I tell. "Then I suppose I shall have to trust you."
"A wise decision," he says, bending his face and kissing my cheek before turning on his heel and departing with his men.
Chapter 18
Rafaele
I watch with bated breath as Romola dances gracefully with Fiero, her movements fluid and elegant. The masquerade party is in full swing, the room alive with laughter and music. But I remain focused on the two of them, my eyes darting between their faces.
"Damn it, Romola," I mutter under my breath, feeling a knot of anxiety twist in my stomach. "Don't give away our plan." We need the Heart of Italy, that precious diamond, and Fiero is the only obstacle in our path.
I can't help but wonder why she's been dancing with him for so long, allowing herself to be entranced by him. Is it part of her strategy, or has she genuinely fallen for his charms?
"Rafaele," a voice whispers in my ear, startling me. I turn to find Franco, my right-hand man, disguised as one of the partygoers. I recognize him from the small tattoo peeking out from the nape of neck.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I ask quietly, speaking from the corner of my lip.
His face is hidden behind an ornate mask, but his eyes convey a sense of urgency. "We have a problem."
I grit my teeth, trying to maintain my composure. "What is it?"
"The Heart of Italy has been stolen from the compound," he says, his voice barely audible above the party's sounds.
My blood runs cold at his words. My hands begin to shake and tremble. This can’t be happening. The Heart of Italy is located in a fortress. "Franco. Don’t play the fool. That's impossible. The room is impenetrable."
"Apparently not," Franco replies gravely. "And we need to act fast before we lose any chance of reclaiming it."
I feel rage, pure rage. In this instant, I could kill someone. My goal is no longer just about stealing back what’s mine; now, we're dealing with an unknown enemy who's struck at the heart of our operation.
I clench my fists, the anger and betrayal boiling within me. "If this is your idea of a joke, Franco…" I say, still in disbelief, not prepared to accept this unprecedented reality.
"See for yourself," he insists, handing me his phone. The small screen displays a CCTV video, timestamped just hours ago.
My heart pounds as I watch Agostinos sitting on his haunches on the floor, inspecting the Heart of Italy in slow-motion. In the video, Romola walks off towards the other jewels, and I follow her.
Right there, behind our backs, Agostino swiftly shifts the diamond from his palm into his coat pocket, skillfully replacing it with a perfect replica. The cunning maneuver is executed with precision, his hands moving like those of a master thief. I watch in disbelief as the footage captures Agostino's calculated sleight of hand, the betrayal cutting deep like a knife.
Fury surges through me like a raging storm, and I clench Franco's phone tightly in my hand, the screen crackling slightly under my grip. "Agostino," I growl through gritted teeth, my voice low and dangerous. The very thought of his betrayal ignites a fire within me, burning away any remnants of trust.
"Li mortacci tua! Son of a bitch," I mutter under my breath, struggling to control my fury.
"Rafaele, what do you want us to do? We need to act fast," Franco urges, concern etched on his masked face.
"Find them," I growl, my voice low and menacing. "Find Romola and her father. Bring them to me alive. They have some explaining to do." My mind races, trying to piece together their true intentions. Were they working with Fiero all along, playing us for fools?
"Understood," Franco nods. “And I’ve called for back-up. Our men are surrounding the premises, and some are disguised here. In case shit hits the roof.”
