The trip to the port office was a nightmare of silence. Kyle sat in the back of the Maybach with me, but he might as well have been on another planet. He was buried in his phone, his face a mask of cold stone. Every time I tried to say something to break the tension, he didn't even look up.
"If you're going to ignore me, you could have at least let me stay in the room with a book," I muttered, crossing my arms.
"Assets don't need entertainment, Valentina. They need to be present," he said, his voice flat.
We arrived at a sleek, black-glass building overlooking the industrial docks of Naples. The air smelled like dust and diesel. Kyle led me into a private lounge that overlooked his shipping empire, but he didn't tell me to sit. He pointed to a chair in the corner, far away from his desk.
"Stay there. I have a meeting."
Five minutes later, the door swung open. I expected Marcus or a group of stern men. Instead, a woman walked in. She was the definition of Milanese perfection—long blonde hair, a dress that cost more than a small house, and a look in her eyes that said she owned every room she walked into.
"Kyle, caro," she purred, ignoring me entirely.
"Sera," Kyle said. His voice changed. It wasn't the cold growl he used with me; it was smooth, familiar, and devastatingly casual.
I sat in the corner, my blood starting to boil. This was his "slut"—the woman the tabloids probably linked him to every week. She walked straight to him, and to my horror, Kyle didn't pull away. He leaned back in his chair, allowing her to slide onto the edge of his desk.
"I missed you last night," sera whispered, loud enough for me to hear. She reached out, her manicured fingers running through his dark hair. "I heard you found a new... toy at the gala. Is she the reason you didn't call?"
I waited for Kyle to snap at her. I waited for him to tell her I was his "fiancée."
Instead, he reached out and grabbed sera's waist, pulling her between his knees. He looked directly at me over her shoulder—his eyes were dead, devoid of any of the heat from last night.
"She's just work, sera," Kyle said, his voice loud and clear. "A little mess I'm cleaning up. Nothing you need to worry about."
Sera giggled, a sound that made me want to scream. She leaned down and kissed him—a long, deep, and very physical kiss. Kyle didn't just let her; his hand moved to the back of her neck, pulling her closer, his thumb stroking her skin in a way that felt like a slap to my face.
My "loud mouth" felt like it was filled with lead. I watched them, the girl who had been "owned" and "marked" by him just hours ago, realizing I was absolutely nothing to him. Last night meant nothing. The bed meant nothing.
"Kyle," I breathed, my voice trembling with a mix of rage and humiliation.
He broke the kiss slowly, his eyes finally locking onto mine. He looked bored. He looked like he was watching a movie he'd already seen.
"What is it, Val? Do you need a glass of water? Or are you just realizing that I don't care if you're watching?" He turned back to sera, his hand sliding down to her hip. "Go wait in the car, sera. I'll be down in twenty minutes to finish what we started."
Sera stood up, smoothed her dress, and gave me a look of pure, condescending pity. "She's a bit rough around the edges, isn't she, Kyle? Maybe you should get her a better stylist."
The door shut behind her, leaving me alone with him. The silence was deafening.
I stood up, my legs shaking. "You're a disgusting, arrogant bastard."
Kyle didn't even blink. He went back to his papers, his face returning to that cold, business-like mask. "I told you this morning, Val. This isn't a game of love. You're a target I'm protecting because you have information I need. Don't start getting jealous of the women who actually know their place."
"I'm not jealous! I'm disgusted!" I shouted, the diamond collar feeling like it was choking me.
"Good," Kyle said, finally looking up. His gaze was icy. "Keep that disgust. It'll remind you that in this room, you're the help. And the help doesn't get to have opinions on who I put in my bed."
He stood up, grabbing his jacket. "We're going to the docks. Try to look like an asset, not a scorned mistress. It's embarrassing."