đź–¤ Leonardo
Nicole hadn't said a word the entire drive.
Not one syllable.
Not one inhale loud enough to acknowledge I existed.
I glanced across the back seat of my custom black Mercedes. She was sitting stiffly against the door, hands folded on her lap, her spine rigid, staring straight ahead at the bulletproof divider separating us from the driver. Behind us, the convoy followed, dozens of black SUVs, headlights slicing through the dusk like silent threats.
But she still didn't flinch.
She didn't ask where we were going.
She didn't even look scared.
Just… quiet.
Too quiet.
Nicole Ferraro. Mine. but why didn't it feel satisfying?
I had destroyed her father, shattered her home, and publicly humiliated her in front of her entire family and what was left of his security detail. I watched her closely, searching for the first sign of the fire I craved, the sharp, sarcastic venom that usually fueled her. But she was still silent. Utterly and completely silent.
