"The articles, the scandal, I'll handle it. You have my word."
She studies my face for a long moment. "Why?" she asks quietly. "Why does it matter to you what happens to me?"
The question catches me off guard. I'm not sure I have an answer, at least not one I'm ready to voice.
"Because you're going to be my wife," I say finally. "And I protect what's mine."
Something shifts in her expression—disappointment, maybe. "Right," she says softly. "Of course."
She leaves without another word, and I'm left standing in my study, hard as a rock and confused as hell about what just happened between us.
I pour another scotch, trying to make sense of my reaction to her. This was supposed to be simple; a business arrangement, nothing more. But Vittoria is getting under my skin in ways I didn't expect.
The way she challenged me, stood up to me, no one has done that in years. Most people are too afraid. But she looked me in the eye and called me weak, called my family weak.
And instead of being furious, I found myself aroused.
What the fuck is happening to me?
My phone buzzes with a text from Rocco:Meeting in an hour. Damage control.
I finish my drink and straighten my tie. Time to clean up this mess before it destroys everything we've built.
But first, I need to figure out what the hell I'm going to do about my complicated feelings for my bride-to-be.
The emergency meeting with the family heads is brutal. Domenico is furious, threatening to pull out entirely. The Russians are questioning our competency. The Irish are making snide comments about our security.
"This is unacceptable," Domenico snarls across the conference table. "My daughter's reputation is being destroyed because of your family's incompetence."
"Your daughter's reputation is intact," I reply coolly, though my hands are clenched under the table. "She handledherself perfectly at the party. The problem is whoever leaked information to begin with."
"The problem," Vincent Torrino interjects, "is that your house isn't secure. First, Valentina talks to reporters, now this. How can we trust you to protect our interests?"
Before I can respond, my phone buzzes. A text from an unknown number:More photos coming tomorrow. Much worse ones.
My blood turns cold. There are more photos? Worse ones?
"Cesare?" Rocco's voice cuts through my panic. "Everything alright?"
I show him the text. His face darkens as he reads it.
"Gentlemen," I say, standing slowly. "It appears this situation just became more complicated."
As I explain the threat, watching the faces around the table grow increasingly grim, one thought dominates my mind:
Someone wants to destroy this alliance. The question is who, and how far they're willing to go to succeed.
CHAPTER FIVE
vittoria
I stareat my reflection in the full-length mirror, barely recognizing the woman looking back. The wedding dress is fucking gorgeous. It fits like it was made for my body, hugging every curve right down to my ankles, where it flows into a dramatic train. My hair is swept up in an intricate updo, adorned with delicate pearl pins.
I look every inch the blushing bride.
Inside, though? I'm a complete mess.
As the stylist puts finishing touches on my makeup, my mind keeps wandering back to that night in Cesare's study. The kiss we shared was unexpected, electric, and it awakened something in me I didn't know existed. For those brief moments, I forgot about the arranged marriage, family obligations, the dangerous world we live in.
