The villa slept in uneasy silence, but Adriana was wide awake.
She stood at her window, staring out across Naples. The diamonds Luca had given her lay abandoned on the vanity, their glitter mocking her. Her chest ached with the weight of her father’s commands, Luca’s possessive hand, Isabella’s watching eyes.
She was suffocating.
Then, as if conjured by the thought of him, a shadow moved in the courtyard below.
Her heart stuttered. The silhouette was unmistakable—broad shoulders, the sharp lines of a predator cloaked in midnight. Damian.
Before she could question, before she could fear, her body moved. She slipped from her chamber, silent through the hall, and descended into the garden where the roses dripped silver under the moonlight.
He was waiting.
“Damian,” she whispered, her v
