Morning arrived without permission.
Amélie stood at the center of her bedroom, the city of Paris stretching endlessly beyond the tall windows, but her thoughts were nowhere near the river or the streets below. The events of the night before clung to her skin like smoke. Kidnapping was not new to her world. Betrayal was not shocking. But being saved by Vittorio Romano had shifted something deep and irreversible.
She dressed slowly, deliberately. Black trousers. A crisp white blouse. A fitted jacket that carried the quiet authority she had learned to wear like armor. She braided her hair back, not for beauty but for control. Control was everything.
By the time she entered the lower hall, Lucien was already there, tension written clearly across his face.
"You vanished," he said, voice low. "Do you know what kind of chaos that caused?"
"I know exactly," Amélie replied calmly. "Which is why I am still standing."
His gaze searched her for injuries. Finding none, his relief hardened into anger. "You were taken from inside our own walls."
"Yes," she said. "Which means the threat is closer than we thought."
They walked side by side through the château, past guards who straightened at her presence. Word had already spread. Fear traveled faster than bullets.
In the conference room, the atmosphere was tight. Faces turned toward her as she entered, surprise quickly replaced by something else. Respect edged with unease. They had expected weakness after an attack like that.
They would not get it.
"I will be brief," Amélie said, standing at the head of the table. "Someone believed taking me would destabilize this empire. They were wrong."
Silence followed. Heavy. Focused.
"There will be no retaliation without precision," she continued. "No reckless violence. Anyone who acts without my approval will answer to me directly."
That was new.
Lucien noticed it. So did everyone else.
After the meeting dispersed, Amélie retreated to her private study. She needed space to think and Vittorio occupied too much of it.
As if summoned by her thoughts, her phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
She answered without hesitation. "You are late."
"I was making sure you were not followed," Vittorio's voice replied, calm but tight.
"You assume I need protection."
"I know you hate needing it," he said. "That does not make it untrue."
She closed her eyes briefly. "Why are you calling?"
"Because the people who took you were not acting alone."
Her spine straightened. "Explain."
"They were funded by a neutral syndicate," he said. "Neutral until now. They are testing alliances. Watching who reacts and how fast."
"And you," she said softly. "Which side are you on today?"
There was a pause. Longer than necessary.
"Yours," he said finally. "For now."
She should have ended the call. She should have shut that door firmly and permanently.
Instead, she said, "Then meet me."
That evening, they stood on opposite sides of the same room in a discreet apartment overlooking the Seine. The distance between them felt deliberate and dangerous.
"You should not have come alone," Vittorio said.
"Neither should you," Amélie replied.
They watched each other, two predators circling a truth neither wanted to speak aloud. The tension was not just attraction. It was power recognizing power.
"You kissed me," she said quietly. "Do not pretend it meant nothing."
"I would never insult you like that," he replied.
"Then say it," she challenged.
He stepped closer. Not touching. Never touching without permission. "It meant everything it should not."
Her breath caught despite herself.
She moved past him, resting her hands on the balcony railing. The city lights reflected in her eyes. "If this becomes known, it will be used against us."
"Yes."
"And if it ends," she continued, "it will be violent."
"Yes."
She turned to face him. "Then why are you still here?"
"Because walking away would be the lie," he said. "And I am tired of lying."
The honesty was raw. Unprotected. It frightened her more than guns ever had.
They did not kiss again. They did not need to. Something deeper had already taken root. Trust. Fragile and explosive.
Later that night, as Amélie returned to the château, a message arrived on her encrypted line.
We know who saved you. Choose wisely.
She stared at the words until the screen dimmed.
Someone was watching. Someone always was.
But this time, Amélie did not feel cornered.
She felt ready.
Because the lines had been drawn.
And once crossed, there would be no going back.