I didn't sleep.
I couldn't.
The photograph burned behind my eyes every time I blinked.
Me. At my window. Barefoot. Vulnerable.
Watched.
The sky was still dark when I rose from my bed and walked to the curtains. Slowly. Carefully.
I didn't turn on the lights.
If he was watching, I would not give him another silhouette.
My heart pounded against my ribs as I pulled the curtain aside just enough to see the grounds below.
Nothing.
Just the long driveway. The fountain. Security posted at the gates.
But Luca De Santis didn't send warnings he couldn't enforce.
Which meant—
He was close.
Or someone loyal to him was.
My phone vibrated again.
Unknown number.
Another message.
I dislike repetition, Isabella.
My breath stopped.
I hadn't moved.
Hadn't stepped outside.
Hadn't tried to run.
Which meant this wasn't about action.
It was about thought.
My fingers trembled slightly as I typed back.
What do you want?
The response came instantly.
Obedience.
Cold.
Precise.
Terrifyingly simple.
Before I could reply, another message followed.
And honesty.
A third.
Do you intend to make this difficult for me?
My pulse thundered in my ears.
He wasn't threatening violence.
He was testing compliance.
"I don't belong to you," I whispered into the dark room.
But I knew the truth.
In one week, I would.
And in our world, marriage wasn't romantic.
It was ownership dressed in white silk.
Another vibration.
Open the door.
Ice flooded my veins.
I stared at the message.
Open the door.
No.
He couldn't be here.
Not at five in the morning.
Not without the entire estate knowing.
My body moved before logic could catch up.
I stepped into the hallway.
The Romano house was silent.
Too silent.
No guards.
No staff.
No movement.
My stomach dropped.
I reached the front staircase.
And saw them.
Two of my father's men.
On the floor.
Alive.
But unconscious.
Not bleeding.
Just… neutralised.
The front door stood slightly ajar.
A gust of cold air slipped inside.
He didn't break in.
He walked in.
Because he could.
Because no one dared stop him.
Footsteps echoed behind me.
Measured.
Unhurried.
I turned slowly.
Luca stood at the base of the stairs.
Black coat. Dark shirt beneath. No tie. No weapon visible.
He didn't need one.
The house felt smaller with him inside it.
"Good," he said calmly. "You listened."
My voice felt distant when I spoke.
"You drugged my father's men."
"They will wake in two hours." A pause. "Unharmed."
He began ascending the stairs.
One step at a time.
Every instinct screamed to run.
But run where?
He stopped one step below me.
Still taller.
Still towering.
Still terrifyingly composed.
"You misunderstand something," he said quietly.
"This arrangement is not punishment."
I laughed softly.
It came out unsteady.
"You invaded my home before sunrise."
"I removed variables."
His eyes scanned my face carefully.
Studying.
Learning.
"You are the daughter of a man who lies as easily as he breathes," he continued. "You are leverage. You are motive. You are vulnerability."
Each word hit like a verdict.
"And I will not marry vulnerability."
My throat tightened.
"What are you saying?"
His gaze darkened slightly.
"I am determining whether you are a threat."
The air left my lungs.
"You think I would betray you?"
"I think," he corrected softly, "that you were raised by a man who would."
His hand lifted slowly.
Not touching.
Hovering near my chin.
A silent question.
I refused to flinch.
Something flickered in his expression.
Approval.
He lowered his hand.
"You do not tremble," he observed.
I forced my voice steady.
"You don't deserve that satisfaction."
A shadow of something almost like a smile touched his mouth.
"Good."
Then, without warning, his tone hardened.
"If you attempt to run, I will find you."
"If you attempt to deceive me, I will know."
"And if your father uses you against me—"
His eyes went cold.
"He will not survive the mistake."
The threat wasn't aimed at me.
It was worse.
It was absolute.
Silence stretched between us.
Then—
"Why?" I asked.
"Why marry me at all? You could crush us without this."
He held my gaze.
Long.
Unblinking.
"Because," he said softly, "peace is more profitable than blood."
A pause.
"And because enemies are easier to control when they are sleeping in your house."
My stomach twisted.
"I won't spy for you."
"You won't have to."
His voice dropped slightly.
"Your father underestimates you."
That caught me off guard.
"And I do not."
For the first time, his eyes softened—not kindly.
Intensely.
"You are observant," he said. "You calculate before you speak. You hide fear well."
He leaned closer.
"Those qualities make you dangerous."
Dangerous.
Not disposable.
Not collateral.
Dangerous.
His phone buzzed.
He glanced at it briefly.
Then back to me.
"Wedding preparations begin tomorrow."
He stepped back down the stair.
"Pack only what you need."
"And Isabella—"
I hated the way my name sounded in his voice.
Like something claimed.
"Yes?"
"When you stand beside me next week…"
His eyes held mine in the dim light.
"Stand as if you chose it."
Then he turned.
Walked out of my house.
Past unconscious guards.
Past broken pride.
Past my old life.
The front door closed with quiet finality.
I remained frozen at the top of the stairs.
Heart racing.
Breathing shallow.
Trying to decide what terrified me more—
That he could destroy my family.
Or that he didn't want to.
And deep beneath the fear—
A darker realization settled in my chest.
Luca De Santis wasn't testing whether I would betray him.
He was deciding whether I was worthy of standing beside him.
And that—
That might be far more dangerous.