Dogs Among Withered Roses - Chapter 10

Watching Ricardo and Berenice, quietly listening as if gathering every word of their conversation, Erkin’s gaze deepened for a brief moment. Though it was because of what Berenice had planned, done, and caused, Ricardo—who until now had shown more human expression than Erkin thought possible—had displayed a wide range of emotions.

At least, until Berenice mentioned not just Brian, but Steven J. Lockwood as well.

Erkin, who had watched Ricardo’s face turn even colder than when he’d spoken of Russo Gucci, the man who had betrayed both Berenice and the Valentiera Family, felt an instinctive certainty that what he’d just seen, heard, and felt couldn’t be ignored.

Valentiera and Lockwood. Or Ricardo and Steven….

As Erkin etched those two names deep into his mind again and again, Ricardo, his face tight and full of swallowed words, gave a command that had been carefully filtered.

“Before the Lockwood brothers achieve whatever goal they’re hiding, deal with the younger one.”

“What? Why do you keep—”

“I won’t say it twice. End it.”

Berenice frowned at the repeated interference, first with her bodyguard and now this. Her mouth opened, full of words ready to argue, but with guilt already hanging over her, she seemed to decide it wasn’t worth stirring up another fight. Pouting slightly while glancing at Ricardo, Berenice turned toward Erkin.

“…Step out for a while. I’d rather not have you watch me beg forgiveness from my brother.”

He wondered if he should really leave, but Ricardo didn’t revoke her order. Understanding what that meant, Erkin silently turned and left the study.

***

Erkin’s steady footsteps faded away.

Once only the two of them remained in the office, Berenice straightened her shoulders, the same ones that had just seemed ready to shrink in apology. The wary expression she’d worn moments ago vanished completely. Taking a long, steady breath, she returned to her usual composed, cool-faced indifference and spoke first.

“Now tell me. There are fewer ears around.”

“Tell you what.”

“The reason you assigned Erkin as my bodyguard.”

“….”

“Don’t start spewing nonsense, Brother. One fool talking out of turn is enough. If the Marino Family and Russo were the problem, you could’ve just picked any picciotto to test like always.”

“That’s true.”

Ricardo didn’t deny it.

Assigning one of the picciottos to guard Berenice had always been part of a test, a rite of passage. Of course, it was partly for real protection, but that wasn’t the whole purpose.

It was a way to see if the chosen man, after spending time close to the boss’s sister, would pass information about Valentiera’s internal affairs to anyone else. Whether he’d slack off when Berenice told him to take it easy. Whether he’d try to use her, who handled part of the Family’s finances, for his own advantage.

On the surface, it looked like an easy job: an undemanding assignment, an employer and colleagues with no rough edges, and generous bonuses. It might seem that as long as you killed enough time without trouble, you could easily become a soldato under Berenice’s recommendation, even without notable results. But in truth, it was a noose that could tighten at any moment. The instant you relaxed and slipped, it would catch your ankle and snap it clean.

Tilting her head back slightly, Berenice briefly glanced in the direction Erkin had left—the man who had stepped into a new snare—and asked casually, like tossing out a stone.

“You said you were planning to make him caporegime. You don’t trust him?”

“That’s not it.”

Taking a cigar and cutter from the wooden box, Ricardo shook his head and muttered quietly, “I just wanted to see if he’s really a good man.”

“See if he’s good?”

Catching on the tail end of his words, Berenice squinted stubbornly, forcing him to elaborate. Ricardo sighed.

“He’s good at his job. But there’s something strangely desperate about him.”

“Desperate?”

Not suspicious? The answer caught Berenice off guard. She straightened in her chair. She knew what ‘desperate’ meant, but she hadn’t expected that word to describe Erkin.

“When you say desperate, do you mean he’s the type to risk his life for results?”

“No. It’s different from that.”

“There are different kinds of desperation?”

At Berenice’s question, Ricardo frowned. Not because he disliked her question, but because even he didn’t know how to answer it.

“Now that I’ve said it out loud, it’s getting tangled. Forget it.”

“I swear, sometimes I want to hit you. Who taught you to end conversations whenever you please after making people curious?”

“You should learn how to speak politely first.”

Rejecting the cigar Ricardo offered, Berenice let out a slow hum and crossed her legs. Desperate, huh? That didn’t suit Erkin at all. She didn’t know what Ricardo saw in him to call him desperate, but the conclusion was clear: he thought using her to test a mere picciotto wasn’t enough, so now he was doing the same to a soldato.

Everyone was just dying to use her. Whether it was one bastard or another, they all wanted something from her.

Twisting her lips in disgust, Berenice asked flatly, “If Erkin knew the meaning behind why you pushed him to me, do you think he’d like it?”

“Why should I care?”

“How cold. What if that loyalty of his cracks because of you?”

“That’s something that’ll only happen if my sister can’t keep her mouth shut.”

“Well, you’re not wrong.”

Still, that was harsh. Instead of protecting her, he’d just tossed her into a trap. Even when his sister pouted and complained, Ricardo didn’t care. Lighting the end of his cigar, he looked perfectly calm, as if suspecting and testing someone before betrayal struck was nothing but common sense.

Come to think of it, there wasn’t much difference between that and what she’d done—investigating Russo and Brian, using them even after learning their true motives. Realizing that, Berenice raised both hands lightly, as if saying, ‘Fine, do whatever you want.’

Maybe I should’ve warned him yesterday….

He wasn’t even a picciotto who hadn’t gone through his initiation yet; he was a soldato. Regardless of how annoying Erkin was, Berenice felt a flicker of guilt and bit her lip.

Drawing in a deep puff from his cigar, Ricardo advised calmly, “So don’t start acting petty. It’s not that hard. From what I saw earlier, if you so much as smile at him, he’d probably wag his tail even without having one.”

“Oh, please. Don’t say disgusting things like that.”

Berenice looked revolted, her face twisted like she’d just bitten into something sour.

“Then what is it? What bothers you so much?”

“It pisses me off that you shoved a bodyguard at me without saying a word. Would it kill you to give me a warning first?”

“You’ve got some nerve saying that, considering you’ve kept your mouth shut about Russo all this time.”

“Whatever. Just stop testing people by making them my bodyguards. Handle it yourself and stop using me for it. You’ve got private detectives for a reason.”

Sounding a little tired, Berenice muttered under her breath. Watching her quietly, Ricardo tilted his head toward the closed door.

“If you don’t hate him that much, at least try to get along.”

“….”

“Go on. Keep an eye on him.”

***

At the sound of footsteps, Erkin, who had been standing a short distance away, approached slowly. Even with his long strides and unhurried pace, he closed the distance between them in just a few steps.

Berenice stopped when there were only a couple of steps left between them and looked up at him. The distance was perfect, close enough that she didn’t have to tilt her head back or lean into him to meet his eyes. Wanting to remember the space between them, she traced it with her gaze when Erkin suddenly spoke.

“Did he scold you badly?”

“What, did you think I got spanked or something?”

“You seem fine.”

He sounded genuinely relieved, his tone warm and natural. Maybe he’d learned to tune out her meaningless sarcasm in just one day. A faint smirk formed on his lips.

So he can actually smile.

It was a different smile from the fleeting one she’d seen yesterday. There was still a hint of disbelief in it, but it wasn’t mockery or irony, but a real smile. It felt strange, like catching sight of something rare by accident.

She found herself silently timing how long it would last.

Then, without warning, Erkin closed the distance she’d just measured.

“The briefcase. Hand it over.”

There wasn’t even time to feel regret for the mirage-like smile that vanished. Without warning, Erkin reached out and took the briefcase before Berenice could hand it to him. It wasn’t particularly heavy. While he was at it, he also grabbed the coat hanging over her arm and bent down slightly.

“Is it uncomfortable to walk?”

He seemed concerned about how she had nearly lost her balance earlier. Taking her silence as agreement, perhaps thinking her foot hurt too much to move, his eyes began to search her face for any trace of hidden pain.

If there was even the slightest hint of teasing in his gaze, she was ready to shove his face away, but she couldn’t. Her body refused to move as she strained her stomach muscles, afraid another ridiculous hiccup might burst out.

His gaze had brushed over her before, discreet and fleeting, like he was checking something, but never like this.

Why’s he looking at me like that now?

More uncomfortable than her feet, which were starting to throb as blood rushed to them, was the man standing right in front of her. Beneath the shadow cast by his sharply defined brow bones, his cold, blue eyes gleamed with a pressure that seemed to trap her in place.

With just one frozen, unreadable look, he seemed to quietly press down on her, controlling even the rhythm of her breathing, both the inhale and the exhale.

Following his frigid gaze as it lingered and moved—from her eyes, to the space between her brows, to her lips, and across her cheek—Berenice frowned slightly, as if something about it didn’t sit right with her. Her eyes sharpened, searching Erkin’s face for whatever it was she couldn’t quite place.