Rafael continues watching both of us with barely concealed interest, his eyes moving between Isabella and me like he's reading a book we don't know we're writing, and I make a mental note to have a conversation with him later about keeping his observations to himself. This is not a game and Isabella’s life is at risk.
"What can I do?" Isabella asks. "To help."
"Stay safe," Matteo says immediately. "That's what you can do. Let us handle the rest."
"Matteo—"
"I mean it." His voice is firm but not unkind. "You've been through enough. Let us handle this."
She looks like she wants to argue but doesn't, just nods and settles back in her chair, and I can see the frustration in the set of her shoulders, in the way her jaw tightens slightly.
We spend another thirty minutes going over logistics, over surveillance schedules and guard rotations and the various properties Declan owns that we'll be watching.
Then Rafael says it.
"What about Saturday?"
The room goes quiet in a specific way.
"The wedding goes ahead as planned," Matteo says.
"With everything moving around Declan right now?—"
"The De Luca alliance doesn't change. We need it more than ever with the O'Rourkes active." Matteo's voice is final. "Saturday happens. We just make sure nothing gets near her before then."
Nobody looks at me.
Isabella is looking at her hands.
"Salvatore's security will overlap with ours at the venue," I say, because someone has to say something practical and I need somewhere to put my eyes. "I'll coordinate with his team this week."
"Good," Matteo says.
The conversation moves on. Through all of it, I'm aware of Isabella beside me, of the way she goes very still after Rafael's question, of the fact that she doesn't look up again for a long time.
When the meeting finally breaks up, Matteo asks me to stay behind for a moment and Isabella and Rafael file out, and Iwatch her go with more effort than it should take for her to leave the room.
The door closes.
Matteo looks at me across his desk and his expression is serious in a way I recognize, the particular seriousness that means he's about to say something important.
"I need to make sure you're okay with this," he says. "Being her guard full time. I know it's asking a lot."
"It's fine," I say, and the lie tastes worse than usual.
"You've always been honest with me, Enzo. More than anyone else in my life." He leans forward slightly. "So I'm asking you honestly. Are you okay with this?"
The question sits between us and I think about last night, about her body under mine, about the sounds she made, about the way she looked at me after like I'd given her something she'd been searching for.
"No," I say. "No conflict."
He nods, satisfied, and the trust in his face makes me want to put my fist through the wall.
"Thank you," he says. "I know I don't say it enough but you're the only person I trust like this. The only person I trust with her."
I stand because if I stay sitting I'm going to say something I can't take back.
"I'll keep her safe," I say. "That's a promise."
