The storm lingered in Adriana’s veins long after Damian’s car vanished into the night.
She sat in her chamber, fingers tracing the frost-slick windowpane, her reflection pale in the moonlight. She told herself she should feel fury—at his audacity, at his arrogance, at the danger he had dragged to her feet. But beneath the anger pulsed something hotter, darker. Something she couldn’t confess, even to herself.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw him in the rain. The way he had looked at her. The way his words wrapped around her like chains she almost wanted to wear.
He should terrify me, she thought. So why do I feel safer in his gaze than in Luca’s touch?
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The following day, Enzo tightened the noose. The house was bustling with preparations—flowers ordered, menus discussed, invi
