Chapter 17 - Chapter 17: Shadows of the Past

The night was thick with tension as Bianca made her way to the lavish club that had become the center of her operations. She could feel the weight of everything pressing down on her—her role as a spy, her relationship with Lorenzo, the dangerous web that Salvatore had spun around her. She had been playing the game for so long now, but tonight, the stakes felt higher than ever before. She had spent days analyzing her every move, every interaction. What could she reveal to Salvatore without tipping her hand? How could she prove her worth to him while keeping her true intentions hidden? The answers weren't coming easily, but one thing was clear: the more she played along with Salvatore's twisted dance, the deeper she sank into his world. The club's neon lights illuminated the street as Bianca pulled her black Audi up to the valet. She threw on her sunglasses and got out, slipping past the doorman with a practiced ease. The familiar scent of expensive cologne and whiskey mixed with the faint trace of danger that seemed to hang in the air every time she stepped foot inside. Tonight, she wasn't just a guest. She was a player—one who couldn't afford to make a single misstep. As she walked into the club, her heels clicking against the marble floors, she immediately felt the eyes of the patrons on her. The allure of her beauty, her confidence, it all drew attention. It was a dangerous thing, but she had learned to wield it as a weapon. She wasn't just a flight attendant anymore; she was Bianca Rossi, and she would make Salvatore—and everyone else in this room—understand that she wasn't someone to be taken lightly. She spotted Salvatore near the bar, surrounded by a few of his men, his usual stoic expression in place. His eyes, though, flickered when they met hers. There was something in them—something dark and knowing. He had become a constant presence in her life, a dangerous pull that she couldn't seem to break free from. Bianca walked toward him, her steps slow and deliberate. Every muscle in her body was tense, but she kept her face neutral, allowing none of the anxiety she felt to show. She was here for a purpose, and she wasn't going to let anything distract her. "Ms. Rossi," Salvatore greeted her with that smooth, calculated voice that always sent a shiver down her spine. He motioned for her to join him, and she did, taking the seat beside him without a word. "You look stunning tonight," he said, his gaze briefly flicking over her attire. She was wearing a sleek black dress that hugged her figure, paired with diamond earrings that sparkled in the dim light. It wasn't just a compliment—it was an assertion of his control, a reminder that he had the power to make her feel small if he wished. Bianca tilted her head slightly, offering a small smile. "Thank you," she replied, her voice cool and composed. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything important." Salvatore's lips curved into a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Nothing that can't wait for a beautiful woman," he said, leaning back in his chair. His eyes never left her face, and Bianca could feel the weight of his scrutiny. The conversation drifted to trivial matters—lighthearted topics that only seemed to mask the undercurrent of danger that ran through the air between them. But Bianca knew that every word, every gesture, was part of the game. Salvatore was testing her, just as Lorenzo had warned. She needed to keep him engaged, to maintain his interest without revealing too much. It was a delicate balance, one that required all of her wit and charm. As the night wore on, the tension between them grew. Salvatore didn't ask her outright what she wanted from him, but the subtle questions, the probing glances, told her that he was getting closer to figuring out her true intentions. Bianca could feel the walls closing in. She had to make a move before he did. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Salvatore's voice broke the silence again, this time lower, more intense. "You know," he said, his gaze hardening as he leaned forward, "I've been wondering about you, Bianca. You've been playing this game for a while now. But I have to ask—what's your endgame?" Bianca's pulse quickened, but she kept her expression steady. "I don't know what you mean," she replied, keeping her voice casual, almost playful. "I'm just here to enjoy the night. To meet new people." Salvatore studied her for a long moment, as if weighing her words. "You're clever," he said, his tone almost admiring. "But I know better than to believe that's all you're after. You're not here for pleasure, Bianca. You're here for something else. And I think I know what it is." Bianca felt a cold chill run through her. He was getting closer, and it was only a matter of time before he figured everything out. But she couldn't let him see her fear—not now, not when she was so close to getting what she needed. She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a whisper. "And what do you think I'm here for, Salvatore?" she asked, the words dripping with intrigue. Salvatore didn't answer immediately. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving hers. His fingers tapped lightly on the armrest, a rhythm that matched the beating of her own heart. "I think you're here to get closer to me," he said at last, his voice low and deliberate. "You want to be part of this world. You want power. You want control." Bianca's heart skipped a beat. He was so close, so d*mn close to the truth. But she couldn't let him know. Not yet. "I think you're mistaken," she said softly, her lips curling into a smile. "I'm here because I like the company. I like the luxury. It's as simple as that." Salvatore chuckled, a dark, knowing sound. "You're a good liar, Bianca. But you're not fooling me." The air between them grew thick with unspoken tension, and for a brief moment, Bianca wondered if she had pushed too far. But then Salvatore's smile softened, and he leaned forward again, his voice turning almost gentle. "Listen, Bianca," he said, his tone sincere but still laced with danger, "I'm not going to pretend I don't see the game you're playing. But understand this—if you want something from me, you're going to have to prove you deserve it." Bianca felt a jolt of realization. This was it. The moment of truth. Salvatore was giving her a choice. He was going to demand more from her. He wasn't going to let her slide by without making a sacrifice. "I'm ready," she said, her voice unwavering, though her pulse raced. Salvatore studied her for a long moment, as if deciding whether or not to believe her. Then, slowly, he nodded. "We'll see, Bianca. We'll see." As the conversation drifted back into less dangerous waters, Bianca's mind raced. Salvatore's words hung heavy in the air, a promise and a threat all at once. She had to decide—whether she was going to play his game or walk away from everything she had worked for. But there was no going back now. She was in too deep, and the stakes had just gotten higher. The question was no longer whether she could outsmart Salvatore—it was whether she could survive his game long enough to make it out on top.