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I pace the confines of my bedroom like a caged animal, unable to sit still as the late morning light filters through the curtains. The mansion is in chaos—servants rush about, security is doubled at every entrance, and hushed conversations cut off abruptly when I enter a room. The stolen shipment has sent shockwaves through both families, exactly as Stefano intended.

Stefano. I still struggle to think of him by his true name rather than as Alessio. The man the world knows is a carefully constructed weapon, forged in secrecy and honed by vengeance. But the man who touches me in darkness, who whispers truth against my skin—he is Stefano.

And I am playing a very dangerous game with him.

A soft knock interrupts my thoughts. Three quick taps—our signal. My heart leaps into my throat as I open the door just enough to see him standing there, perfectly composed in his enforcer suit, nothing in his expression betraying the storm between us.

“Miss De Angelis,” he says formally, “I need to discuss updated security protocols with you.”

For the benefit of anyone listening, of course. Always careful, always calculating. The perfect soldier.

“Come in,” I say, stepping aside.

The moment the door closes, his demeanor shifts, the mask slipping just enough for me to glimpse the tension radiating from him. He moves to the window, scanning the grounds with practiced precision, checking for surveillance like breathing.

“The shipment,” I say without preamble. “That was you.”

It’s not a question. I know the answer before his eyes meet mine, dark amber and unapologetic.

“Yes.”

“Twenty million dollars. My father’s security team roughed up. Luca on the warpath.” I list the consequences, watching his face for any hint of regret. There is none. “This is how you start a war, Alessio.”

“Stefano,” he corrects quietly. “And yes, this is exactly how I start a war.”

He says it so matter-of-factly that I’m momentarily stunned by his calm. “You could’ve warned me.”

“I couldn’t risk it. The fewer people who knew, the better.” He steps closer, close enough that I can smell his cologne, feel the heat radiating from his body. “Even you.”

“I’m your accomplice in this,” I remind him, anger flaring. “I deserved to know.”

“You’re not my accomplice.” His voice roughens. “You’re the one thing in this plan I’m trying to protect.”

The declaration hits me with physical force. For so long, I’ve been a commodity to be protected for my value, not for myself. Yet in Stefano’s eyes, I see something different—concern not for the De Angelis heiress, but for me. Isadora.

“Luca suspects you,” I tell him, recalling my fiancé’s thinly veiled accusations at breakfast. “He’s convinced you’re behind the theft.”

A ghost of a smile touches his lips. “Let him suspect. He has no proof.”

“And if he finds some?” I move closer, unable to resist the magnetic pull between us. “If he convinces my father or Giancarlo? What then?”

“Then I accelerate the timeline.” His hand reaches out, fingers brushing my cheek with surprising gentleness. “Four more days, Isadora. That’s all we need.”

Four days. The wedding date looms like an execution. I turn my face into his palm, seeking the warmth of his touch even as anxiety claws at my throat.

“Luca was furious this morning,” I whisper. “I’ve never seen him like this. He was asking questions about you—how often we’re alone together, whether you’ve ever been inappropriate.”

Stefano’s expression hardens. “What did you tell him?”

“The truth.” I meet his gaze steadily. “That you’ve been nothing but professional. That the enforcer assigned to protect me has kept the appropriate distance at all times.”

The lies come so easily now. Just more deception piled atop the mountain of falsehoods our lives are built upon.

“Good.” He nods, but I see the shadow of something darker cross his features. “Keep playing the dutiful fiancée. The perfect bride.”

“While you bring down their empire?” I can’t keep the bitterness from my voice.

“While I get justice,” he corrects. “For my mother. For the life that was stolen from me.”