She’d never been a servant. She’d been hidden.
“Vittorio allowed the structure,” Magnus said. “Bianca enforced it.” The calm words carried something razor-edged underneath.
Elia shivered. The tremor ran through her before she could stop it, acold awareness threading through her as the truth settled deeper. All the years inside the Donati house suddenly rearranged themselves in her mind. The discreet rules. The careful distance. The way Vittorio had watched without ever intervening. She wrapped her arms briefly around herself, not from weakness but from the shock of understanding how close she had always been to the center of something dangerous.
Magnus tilted his head, bringing his mouth near her ear. “Listen to me,” he said. “You’re not going back there. Not tomorrow. Not ever.”
It took her a moment to speak. “What if he demands it?”
“Then he learns what refusal looks like.”
The tension in her body began to drain. Exhaustion moved in behind it, heavy and sudden.
Magnus’s hold remained steady. “Come here.”
He guided her backward without releasing her. Elia let him. He eased her onto the bed and sat beside her. For a moment she stared at the sheet still clutched aroundher.
A shield.
He reached for it and drew it away with deliberate gentleness. He didn’t let it fall. He folded it and set it aside as if removing a barrier rather than stripping her. For a brief instant his gaze hardened,not with hunger but with decision. Magnus Severin was a man who chose what he kept, and once chosen, he didn’t relinquishit.
Except for a pair of delicate panties, Elia was bare beneath the warm lamplight. Magnus’s gaze moved over her calmly. Not assessment. Recognition.
He lifted his hand and brushed a knuckle along her cheek. “You’re safe here,” hesaid.
Safe. The word sounded impossible.
He crossed to the side table and switched off the brighter lamp, leaving the room in dimness. When he returned to the bed, the restrained confidence of his movements drew Elia’s attention despite the turmoil in hermind.
He slid beneath the covers behind her without ceremony, his presence warm and solid as he pulled the blankets over them both.His arm wrapped around her waist, bringing her back against his chest. She froze for a heartbeat, startled by the intimacy. Then she let herself sink intoit.
Magnus’s hand settled over her stomach, protectively. “Breathe,” hesaid.
Elia did. Slowly. Her mind tried to spin again, dragging her back toward ledgers and silence and the smell of lilies.
Magnus’s mouth brushed the back of her head, abrief touch that steadied her more than she expected. “Try to sleep,” he murmured.
Elia’s fingers curled into his forearm. “I’m scared,”she admitted.
“You should be. But you’re not facing them alone. I’m here.”
A broken laugh slipped out of her. Magnus’s hold tightened, apossessive pressure that didn’t trap. It protected. Elia’s eyelids grew heavy. The house remained silent. His breathing stayed steady behind her, the most reliable sound in a night that had stolen every other certainty.
Elia didn’t remember the exact moment she fell asleep. She only remembered that she wasn’t alone when shedid.
The first light of morning slipped around the edges of the curtains. She surfaced the way she always had. Cautious. Alert.
The first thing she registered was warmth. Magnus’s body behind her. His arm still around her waist. His hand resting over her stomach as if he had never let go. She lay still for a moment, listening.
The house was still. Safe, at least in the way stone walls and locked doors could be. The truth from last night returned in arush.
Vittorio Donati.
Father.
Debt.
Bianca.
