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They know predators when they see them.
And right now, I'm being led straight to the alpha.
The hotel's grandeur feels like a slap in the face—all gilt and crystal, old money and power. Black-suited men are everywhere, their presence turning the elegant lobby into something more ominous. Every exit is covered. Every angle is watched.
"What is this place?" I ask again, but Matteo just steers me toward a side hallway, his hand firm on my elbow.
More security appears as we move deeper into the hotel. These people I recognize. They are Stefano's inner circle, the ones who handle his most sensitive business. The ones who clean up messes.
Like me.
We pass what looks like a bridal party, their laughter jarring against the tension in the air. The sight of white lace and flowers makes something twist in my chest. Such a normal celebration in the middle of whatever this is that’s happening to me.
Matteo guides me around another corner, and my heart nearly stops. A conference room door stands open, flanked by more security. Inside, I catch a glimpse of dark suits, serious faces, and at the center of it all...
Stefano.
He stands with his back to the door, but I'd know him anywhere. The set of his shoulders. The controlled power in his stance. The way everyone else in the room orbits around him like planets around the sun.
Or moths around a flame.
"Please," I start, digging my heels in slightly. "Just tell me what's happening."
"Not my place to say." Matteo's voice is gentle but implacable as he urges me forward. "You need to hear it from him."
The conference room feels like a trap closing as we enter. It boasts clean lines and expensive furniture. It’s the kind of room where billion-dollar deals are made. Or maybe where death sentences are handed down.
Stefano turns, and the sight of his face steals my breath. Not because he looks angry, though there's plenty of that simmering beneath the surface. But because he looks...resolute. Like a man who's made an impossible decision and won't be swayed from it.
I open my mouth to speak, to explain, to beg for Tony's life, if nothing else.
But he holds up one hand, the gesture silencing me more effectively than a shout.
"When were you going to tell me about the baby?"
The question hits like a physical blow. Of all the things I expected him to say, this wasn't it. The room suddenly feels too small, too warm, too full of prying eyes.
And Stefano's gaze never wavers from mine, waiting for an answer I'm not sure how to give.
The words feel like ice water. My hand moves instinctively to my stomach before I can stop it, a tell I can't afford right now.
"I—" But what can I say? That I was planning to disappear with his child? That I thought I could outrun both him and the Fioris? That I was trying to protect everyone and managed to destroy everything instead?
Stefano's eyes track my movement, something dark and possessive flashing across his face. He steps closer, and despite all my training, I have to fight not to back away.
"The pregnancy tests in the bathroom," he continues, voice deceptively soft. "When did you find out?"
Around us, men in dark suits shift uncomfortably. This isn't the kind of conversation that should have an audience. Yet no one moves to leave.
Because this isn't just about the baby. This is about power. Control. Consequences.
"Yesterday," I manage finally. "I found out yesterday."
"And you ran." Not a question. An accusation.
"The Fioris?—"
"Were always going to be a problem." He moves closer still, until I can smell his cologne and feel the heat radiating from his body. "One I could have handled if you'd trusted me. If you'd been honest."