Isabella’s POV
The restaurant was a vision of understated elegance—dim lighting, soft music, and private booths tucked away behind frosted glass partitions. It was the kind of place where secrets were whispered, deals were made, and danger lurked in every shadow.
Alessio walked ahead of me, his shoulders straight, his steps purposeful. I followed, trying to ignore the flutter of unease in my chest. I shouldn’t have been here. Every instinct screamed for me to leave, but I couldn’t. Not with Alessio watching me so closely, his eyes flickering with a warning I didn’t dare ignore.
The maître d’ led us to a secluded table where three men were already seated. Their suits were impeccably tailored, but their faces told a different story—hard, weathered, and dangerous. These weren’t businessmen
