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“Asking me to kill her if she ran…” he shakes his head, looking out over the city, “was it necessary?”

Yes.

I don’t say it aloud. I sent her out for a reason. Enzo and Riccardo needed to believe it was just a fitting trip. She needed to believe I trusted her. But the truth was—I needed to see what she’d do with freedom just out of reach. Would she run? Beg them to help her? Or would she play along, like the obedient little liar I hoped she was?

“Did she try to run?” I ask, flicking my cigarette over the edge of the balcony.

Enzo shakes his head. “No. She didn’t.”

I smile, not out of warmth. Good girl.

“She said you were nice,” he adds after a minute. “Said you used to come by her Nonna’s café all the time. That you smiled. Helped out. So, was that bullshit, or are you just two different people depending on what you want?”

I turn fully now, waving his question off like dust on my jacket. “She’s my girlfriend. It’s complicated.”

He narrows his eyes. “Don’t lie, Vieri. Not to me, not to us.”

A tightness forms in my chest that I shove down fast. I want to tell him everything. I want to let him in. But I’ve lived long enough to know that trust gets chipped away before it ever gets returned.

“I’m doing this for us,” I say. “For the family.”

He doesn’t answer. But he’s Enzo. He won’t push further. Not unless I give him reason to.

“Try not to hurt her anymore,” he mutters. “She’s fragile.”

I scoff before I can stop myself. Fragile? That girl bit Bugatti like a goddamn pit bull and sent my maid down with a shattered toilet lid. She’s got claws—but Enzo doesn’t need to know that. None of them do.

He starts to turn away, but pauses. “She’s in the room.”

I turn, hands sliding into my pockets, and leave him on the balcony.

The hallway is quiet as I head back to her room. No guards. I step in and I see her on the floor near the window—knees tucked in, arms wrapped around them, her head bowed.

She scrambles upright the second she hears my footsteps. Her hair's a mess again, wild around her face. Her lips are still cracked, one split worse than the other. Her cheek is tinged in red, and her skin looks thinner now—almost bruised by light.

“Enzo told me you behaved,” I say, my voice flat, unreadable.

She nods. “I want to see my Nonna and my friend. I’ll keep my word.”

Too bad I won’t keep mine.

I study her face. There’s no fight there now—only a quiet resolve. It’s impressive how fear softens a person.

“Did you get a dress?”

She shakes her head. “Enzo said it’ll have to be custom made. They’re still working on it.”

I nod, walking a few feet toward her. She keeps her back to the wall like she thinks I’ll lunge. Maybe I will.

“The dinner’s soon,” I say. “Your job is simple. Pretend to be my girlfriend. Just like you played along with Enzo—play along with everyone I introduce you to.”

I watch her expression closely, expecting some flicker of resistance, but she just lowers her gaze and nods.

“Act the way you would with a boyfriend.”

She shifts, awkward now. “I’ve never had a boyfriend.”

I blink, eyebrows twitching. Of course she hasn’t. Suddenly, her wide-eyed stares, the way she freezes when I touch her—they make sense. She isn’t playing innocent. She is.