Chapter Four: The Watcher

September brought the first hint of autumn to Chicago.

And with it, Bruno’s increasingly frequent visits to her wing of the estate.

“Mrs. Vieira,” he’d say. Always formal. Despite the fact that she’d told him repeatedly to call her Geneva. “The boss wants to know if you’ll be attending the charity gala tonight.”

Or, “The boss says you’re free to redecorate the solarium if you’d like.”

Or, “The boss noticed you’ve been walking the gardens alone. He’s assigned additional security.”

Always the boss.

Never Elio. Never your husband.

It took her two weeks to realize what was happening.

Elio was watching her.

Not just through Bruno’s reports. Through the security cameras positioned throughout the estate. Through the guards who shadowed her every move. Through the staff who reported back to him every detail of her daily routine.

The realization should have angered her.

Instead, she found it almost amusing.

The man who claimed not to want her was tracking her movements like she was a valuable asset that might disappear.

“Why does he care what I do?” she asked Bruno one afternoon.

Bruno’s weathered face remained carefully neutral.

“The boss takes his responsibilities seriously, ma’am. Your safety is his responsibility.”

“My safety or my availability?” Bitterness crept into her voice. “In case he needs to produce that heir he’s so concerned about?”

Something flickered in Bruno’s eyes.

“Mrs. Vieira, if I may speak frankly.”

She nodded. Curious despite herself.

“The boss isn’t an easy man to understand. But he’s not the man you think he is either.”

Before she could ask what he meant, her phone buzzed.

Lena. With their weekly lunch date reminder.

The restaurant was in neutral territory. An upscale Italian place owned by a family not affiliated with any major organization.

Lena was already seated when Geneva arrived. Her security detail at a nearby table. Eyes constantly scanning the room.

“You look terrible,” Lena announced.

“Not sleeping.”

“He’s still keeping his distance?”

Geneva nodded. Focusing on the menu though she already knew what she wanted.

“Complete radio silence. Unless he needs his beautiful wife to appear at some function.”

“Men are idiots.” Lena signaled the waiter. “Especially men in our world. They think showing emotion is weakness.”

“It’s not about emotion.” Geneva’s voice was quiet. “He just doesn’t want me. He made that clear before we were even married.”

The waiter arrived with wine. Lena waited until he’d left before leaning forward.

“Can I tell you something? Something I heard from my father?”

Geneva nodded. Though she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

“The Santoro family is making moves.” Lena’s voice was low. “They’ve been buying up politicians. Bribing cops. Consolidating power on the north side. My father thinks they’re planning something big.”

The Santoro family. Their rivals.

The ones Elio had mentioned when explaining why he was marrying her.

“What does that have to do with me?”

“They know you’re Elio’s weak spot.” Lena was blunt. “The only thing he cares about beyond power. Going after you would be a direct attack on him.”

“That’s ridiculous. He doesn’t care about me at all.”

“Are you sure about that?” Lena raised an eyebrow. “Because from what my father says, Elio’s been obsessed with your security since the wedding. Tripled the guards. Installed new surveillance systems. Personally vets anyone who gets within fifty feet of you.”

The conversation with Bruno suddenly made more sense.

Your safety is his responsibility.

“That’s just protecting his investment. I’m his wife. It would be a sign of weakness if something happened to me.”

“Keep telling yourself that.” Lena’s expression was knowing. “But maybe pay attention to what he does. Not what he says.”

They finished lunch discussing safer topics. Upcoming charity events. Lena’s latest battle with her father over refusing another arranged marriage.

By the time they parted ways, the afternoon sun was slanting through the Chicago skyline. Painting everything in amber and gold.

Her driver, Marcus, was waiting at the curb.

But as they pulled away from the restaurant, Geneva noticed a black SUV behind them. One that hadn’t been there before.

“Marcus,” she said quietly. Her heart beginning to race. “Are we being followed?”

His eyes flicked to the rearview mirror.

She saw his jaw tighten.

“Yes, ma’am. Hold on.”

He accelerated smoothly. Weaving through traffic with the skill of someone trained for exactly this situation.

But the SUV kept pace. Matching their every move.

Her phone was already in her hand when it rang.

Elio’s name flashing on the screen.

“Where are you?” His voice was clipped. Urgent.

“Leaving lunch with Lena. Marcus says we’re being followed.”

“I know. We’re tracking you. Stay on the phone with me.”

There was something in his voice she’d never heard before.

Fear.

“Elio—”

“Just stay on the phone, Geneva.”

The use of her name—not my wife or some formal title—made her breath catch.

“Bruno is two minutes behind you with backup. Marcus knows the protocol.”

The SUV suddenly accelerated. Pulling alongside them.

Geneva caught a glimpse of tinted windows. Of something metallic being raised.

Marcus jerked the wheel hard right.

They careened down a side street as the sound of gunfire erupted behind her.

She screamed.

Dropped the phone.

Clutched the seat as Marcus drove like a man possessed.

“Mrs. Vieira—”

Elio’s voice, tiny and distant from where the phone had fallen.

“Geneva.”

She grabbed for it with shaking hands.

“I’m here. I’m okay.”

“Where’s Marcus taking you?”

“I don’t know.” She looked out the window. Trying to orient herself. “We’re heading toward the warehouse district.”

More gunfire. Closer this time.

The rear window exploded inward. Safety glass showering over her.

She ducked down. Her heart hammering so hard she thought it might break through her ribs.

“Hold on, ma’am.” Marcus said through gritted teeth. “Almost there.”

Almost where?

She wanted to ask. But then she saw it.

One of Elio’s properties. A nondescript building that looked like every other warehouse in the district. But was actually one of his most secure locations.

The gates opened as they approached. Marcus gunned the engine. Speeding through just as they began to close behind them.

The pursuing SUV slammed into the gates. Unable to follow.

Armed guards appeared from every direction. Surrounding their car.

And then Elio was there.

Yanking open her door.

His face pale beneath his normally golden complexion. His eyes wild with something that looked suspiciously like terror.

“Are you hurt?”

His hands were on her. Checking for injuries with a thoroughness that belied his usual distance.

“Did they hit you? Talk to me, Geneva.”

“I’m fine.” She managed. Though she was shaking so hard she could barely form words. “The window broke, but I’m not hurt.”

He pulled her from the car.

Into his arms.

Crushing her against his chest with a force that drove the air from her lungs.

She could feel his heart racing. Matching the frantic rhythm of her own.

Could feel him trembling. Almost imperceptibly.

“Cristo.” He breathed into her hair. “When I saw the tracker deviate from your normal route—”

He didn’t finish the sentence.

But he didn’t need to.

She understood.

For the first time since their wedding, Elio Vieira was showing her something real.

Not the cold businessman. Not the ruthless mafia boss.

But a man who had been genuinely afraid.

Afraid for her.

👉 [Tap here for Next Part] 👈