Chapter 2 - The Scent of Danger
"You should not be in this corridor, Viola," Alessandro said, his tone shifting from the quiet intensity of our first meeting to a cool, businesslike detachment. "It is not safe tonight."
"I only wanted some quiet," I said, my fingers tightening around the handle of my cane. "The ballroom... it was too loud. Too many smells."
I heard a faint, dry chuckle escape his throat. It was a short, humorless sound, but it lacked the cruelty I had expected from the stories Bianca had whispered to me about the Moretti family.
"A sensory overload," he murmured. "I suppose three hundred people sweating out their greed and cheap champagne would do that to someone like you."
"Someone like me?" I countered, my defensive instincts sparking. "You mean someone who cannot see?"
"No," Alessandro said, and I felt him take a half-step closer, his presence towering over me. "I mean someone who actually pays attention. Most people in that room look at everything and observe nothing. You smell the world for what it truly is. A useful skill. Sometimes a dangerous one."
Before I could ask him what he meant, the heavy double doors at the end of the corridor creaked open.
"Alessandro!"
The voice was loud, sharp, and dripping with an arrogant familiarity that made the silent soldiers around us instantly shift their weight. I recognized the scent immediately—synthetic musk, expensive Italian leather that had been oiled too recently, and the sweet, cloying aroma of peppermint schnapps.
It was Julian Vance, the younger brother of the city’s district attorney and a man whose family had been trying to squeeze the Moretti Syndicate out of the northern shipping lanes for years.
"I was told you were hiding in the shadows," Julian said, his footsteps uneven as he approached. He was drunk, his breathing loud and wet. "And look what we have here. You've found yourself a little plaything. The blind girl from the stage."
I felt Alessandro’s entire body lock. The air in the corridor didn't just turn cold; it felt as though the oxygen had been violently sucked out of the room.
"Julian," Alessandro said, his voice dangerously soft. "You are breathing my air. I suggest you take a step back before I decide you don't need it anymore."
Julian laughed, a harsh, wet sound that rattled my nerves. "Oh, come on, Alessandro. Don't be like that. I was just admiring her work. The fragrance she made... it's a bit too subtle, don't you think? Just like her."
I heard the rustle of Julian's sleeve as he reached out toward me.
Instantly, a hand caught mine, pulling me violently but safely behind a wall of solid, unyielding muscle.
SMACK.
A sickening, wet sound echoed through the corridor, followed by a sharp, choked gasp.
"Who gave you permission to look at her?" Alessandro’s voice was no longer a whisper. It was a low, terrifying growl that seemed to vibrate through the very floorboards beneath my feet.
"Alessandro... please—" Julian choked out, his voice strangled. I could hear the desperate, scratching sound of his fingernails clawing against what must have been Alessandro's grip on his throat.
"If you ever look in her direction again," Alessandro whispered, the words dripping with a promise of absolute violence, "I will personally ensure the next thing you smell is the mud at the bottom of the river. Now get out of my sight."
A heavy thud followed as Julian was thrown against the wall, his frantic, stumbling footsteps retreating down the hall like a frightened animal.
Alessandro turned back to me. His breathing was slightly faster now, his chest rising and falling against my hand, which I had instinctively placed against his lapel to steady myself.
"Are you alright?" he asked.
May you like
"Yes," I whispered, my heart hammering against my ribs. "But you... you shouldn't have done that. His brother is the—"
"I don't care who his brother is," Alessandro cut me off, his hand gently finding mine and lowering it from his chest. "No one touches what is mine to protect."
