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Madman

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Chapter 7: Madman (Anastasia's POV)

Not a single person had the courage to walk back into that room after running out of it. Most of the guests had already left, desperate to get away from that place, and only a handful of people lingered outside, mostly government officials and federal agents. Some guests and some here to investigate. 

I'd worked on numerous cases, even the most brutal ones, but I never felt my blood run cold the way it did tonight. 

The police and agents were scattered all around the place, searching the crime scene for even the smallest of clues. They hadn't even found out who the host was and who invited all of us to the opening. It wasn't too hard to believe that whoever it was invited everybody with the intention of putting on a show, and that final piece was the reason he or she wanted such a grand audience. 

"Anastasia," Marshall said, approaching me. "You should go home." 

I glanced at the officers behind him. "Are they questioning everyone else too?" 

He nodded in response. "It's highly likely that you'll be asked to work on this case at some point, being one of the few agents who were invited," he explained. 

"Isn't that against protocol? I'm here at the crime scene." 

"Anastasia," he sighed in exasperation, "please, go home. I'm already worried enough as it is. This case is the last thing I want you around, but our options are limited. We don't have a lot of agents who can work on such a high-profile case." 

Not wanting to argue with him, I glanced at the crowd. "Where's Scott?" I asked. 

"He left. They finished questioning him." 

"He drove me here," I said, a soft groan escaping me as I threw my head back and stared at the sky. "Is there any chance you can drive me home?" I asked. 

He exhaled softly, "I'm afraid I'll be here for a few more hours with the authorities." His eyes scanned the crowd before rounding back to mine and then slowly drifting to someone behind me. 

Hesitantly, I turned to look over my shoulder. Dante stood further back, a lit cigarette hanging between his fingers as he tapped off the ash. I quickly spun back around to face Marshall. "Marshall, please no." 

"It's the safest option right now," he said, resting a hand on my shoulder. 

"I can get home by myself," I argued.

"After what we've seen tonight, you know better. I'm not letting you go anywhere alone," he said to me sternly. "Ask him to take you home." 

"But I—" 

"Or I will, Anastasia." He was called back by one of the police officers before I could argue. 

My jaw clenched as I ground my teeth and spun around to face him. My eyes narrowed on him. 

He looked so calm and composed even in a mortifying situation like this. Casually standing in a corner and smoking a cigarette without a care in the world. Letting out a breath, I reluctantly dragged my feet forward and approached him. 

His eyes held mine until I stopped right before him. Breathing out, clouds of smoke puffed out of his mouth as he dropped the cigarette and crushed the butt beneath his shoe. "Can I help you?" he asked, staring down at me as he pocketed his hands. 

My hands fisted at my sides. Asking this man for help was the one thing that stomped all over my self-respect, but this moment was too critical. So I swallowed my pride and told him, "I need a ride home. Marshall has to stay back, and Scott left." 

"What are you asking, Ms Vitalio?" 

I rolled my eyes and looked away. "I'm asking if you can drive me home. It's the first and last time I'll ask." 

"It's not the first," he replied, stepping closer to me. 

My heels would have sunk into the ground if I wasn't standing on concrete. That was how much effort it took to hold my ground and not move away from him. 

"And it certainly won't be the last," he added, his arm brushing against mine as he walked past me and toward his car. 

Muttering curses under my breath as viciously as I ever had, I trailed behind him, stopping in front of him as he opened the passenger door for me. I slipped into the seat and let out a huff as he shut the door and rounded over to his seat. 

The drive was silent. Every bone in my body grew rigid, being so close to him after all this time, heat prickled at my skin every second that passed, and the longer it took, the tighter my lungs grew. I couldn't breathe around him. I felt too much and not enough at the same time; being in such proximity to him felt too overwhelming. 

"Breathe, Ms Vitalio," he said. I could feel his eyes on me as I looked away, staring out the window. 

A beat passed until I could bring myself to look at him. "Why were you there tonight?" I asked. 

"I went for a meeting," he answered. 

The silence that fell upon us was worse than earlier, and all I could do was hope time would pass by faster. Finally, the car stopped at my apartment building. Immediately, I unbuckled myself and grabbed my things. 

"Anastasia—" 

I drowned out his voice as I opened the door and practically threw myself out, exhaling roughly as I walked to the entrance and then headed straight up to the penthouse, never looking back. Closing the door behind me, I groaned loudly, letting my hair down and kicking my heels off. 

No matter how prepared I thought I would be to see him after so long, it wasn't enough. I wasn't sure it would ever be enough. 

Exhaustion washed over me the moment I entered my bedroom, and after the turn things had taken tonight, I didn't have the energy to lie awake and dwell upon things. As I slipped under the covers, Kenji took his spot, climbing onto the bed and nestling beside my legs, and before I knew it, I had dozed off. 

Throughout the night, my sleep was hindered and disturbed by what happened at the gallery. When I woke up the next morning and went to work, I had already made up my mind. I would work on this case not just at some point but throughout the entirety of it. 

I knew it was partially against protocol to allow an agent who was at the crime scene to investigate a case, but this was far too big to let go. Marshall was right. Not many agents could work on such a high-profile case, and this one had all the corrupt people in the entire city involved. I couldn't let it go so easily. 

Instead of heading to my office, I marched straight to Marshall's. 

He looked up from the papers in front of him and lifted his brows at me. "Yes?" 

"Let me work on it," I said immediately. 

He paused for a moment only to shake his head a second later. "Absolutely not. That's my last resort. In fact, it comes even later than that." 

"Marshall." 

"Anastasia, this could be extremely dangerous. We may be underestimating this criminal. We don't know anything yet, and until we find out more, I'm not letting you get involved." 

"I'll find out more," I volunteered, "someone has to do it. After last night, everybody seems too shaken up to do anything about it, and from what I saw in the office, nobody even knows where to begin." 

"You cannot find the answer to every question by doing it yourself." 

"No, but I can try." I braced my hands on the table and leaned forward. "Let's say I don't work on this case. Who else do you think can handle it?" I lifted a brow at him. 

He sighed in annoyance and shot me a pointed look. "Don't do this to me, Anastasia." 

"I'm being logical," I argued. "You said it yourself. We don't have a lot of options. Not a lot of agents can handle such a high-profile case," I quoted him. "Trust me," I persisted. 

"Anastasia, no." 

"Why not?" I groaned, pushing off the table and throwing my hands up in frustration. 

"Because it's too dangerous, and you, out of all people, are far too dear to me," he scolded. 

"I'm still an agent. You have to let me do my job, you know that, right?" 

"This isn't it." 

I folded my arms across my chest. "This is exactly it. Please?" 

"Anastasia—" 

"Please! I'll work with anybody you want me to if it makes you feel any better. Anyone." 

He began to argue but cut himself off before he could even begin. Pausing briefly, his brows furrowed at me. "Anyone?" 

I nodded frantically. "Things could go very wrong if this person isn't stopped. If you give me a partner that's capable, I have no reason to refute." 

After contemplating for a while, he nodded slowly once, still seeming wary. "Let me think about it. I'll let you know soon." 

I let out a low breath and slowly backed away to the door. "Thank you," I exhaled. 

The next hour or so I spent in my office, brainstorming. I was already tempted to start digging into the events of last night, but I couldn't take any action before I got the direct order from Marshall. A share of my time went into training the new agents, and just when I finished giving them instructions for the day, Marshall called me back into his office. 

When I walked into his office, I realized that I should have fucking known. Nothing could have prepared me for the sight of Dante standing in that office. 

For a moment, just for a moment, it felt as if I'd gone back two years as if I had walked into this office not knowing a thing, and Dante was here to teach me everything I had to know. 

Exhaling softly, I stepped forward and stopped beside him. Glancing at him out of the corner of my eye, I couldn't help but notice his glasses, the same ones I'd always seen on him, sitting on the bridge of his nose. I turned to face Marshall. "Have you made a decision?" I asked. 

"I have," he nodded, leaning back in his seat. "You want to work on this case, Anastasia? I understand. You can go ahead." 

I nodded slowly, still in doubt and wary as to why Dante was here. 

"When you came here this morning, you said you would work with anybody I wanted you to," Marshall reminded me. 

I went rigid for a minute. "Someone capable... yes," I agreed hesitantly. 

He glanced at Dante before gesturing toward him. "Someone capable," he said. 

For a minute, I had no idea what to say. As much as I wanted to, I couldn't blatantly deny that Dante was capable because I was no liar; I knew exactly how capable Dante was. He would benefit this case greatly, and if we were in the past, I wouldn't have hesitated at all, only agreed. 

But the Dante I knew two years ago was very different from the Dante I knew now. Certainly, he was still capable, but our... relationship, our dynamic was far too strained to allow us to work together. I couldn't even stand to be in the same room as him for too long, let alone work with him again after a year. 

"What are you suggesting?" Dante questioned, keeping his hands comfortably tucked into his pockets, bringing one out to push the glasses further up. My eyes flew to Marshall's. 

"I'm suggesting you two work together," Marshall said bluntly with a casual shrug. "It's been a year since you have, and I'm well aware that things aren't exactly... rosy between you two. But this case is important to you, isn't it?" His question was directed at me. 

"Anyone else," I bargained, "you give me anyone else, and I can work with them." 

"It's not my order alone," Marshall replied, "Alessio insisted on it too." 

I closed my eyes and took a breath of annoyance. "You told Dad?" I demanded. 

"He's still part of the agency, Anastasia. He's invested a lot into it." His eyes shifted to Dante. "He's the only person we can trust at a time like this and the only one who is willing to work on this case." 

"Trust?" I scoffed in disbelief. I turned to Dante. "We all know how that ended the last time we trusted him on a mission, don't we?" 

Dante's eyes cut to mine, although he remained silent. 

"I can't work with him," I said firmly. 

Marshall shook his head, "Then you can't work on this case." 

"Marshall," I pleaded. 

"My decision is final. You two either work together, or you both don't work on this case at all." 

Exasperated, I ran a hand through my hair. "There's too much riding on this," I argued, "I need someone I can trust to be my partner. We're dealing with a madman. His painting, the murder..." 

"How are you so sure the murderer is the artist of that painting?" Marshall questioned. 

"Not a single detail was off," Dante said before I could. "Every inch of that painting looks identical to the body they found. We're dealing with a psychopath. He truly is a madman." 

Marshall turned to me. "Discuss. Figure it out. You have till the end of the day to come to an amicable decision. We don't have a lot of time."

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Chapter 7

Just out of curiosity

Favorite Taylor Swift album and song on that album??

next ch: partner

Also, I haven't written an mmc who smokes in so long. I don't like smokers whatsoever, but can we pls not pretend like it isn't hot when the one doing it is a FICTIONAL man?