The city lights of Mexico shimmered like molten gold, but Isabella didn’t notice. Her pulse still thrummed from the events of the previous night—the threat, Alejandro’s protective but possessive presence, and the whispers of danger that seemed to follow her wherever she went.
She moved through the mansion with careful precision, heels clicking softly against the polished floors. Every step reminded her that in Alejandro’s world, nothing was accidental, and nothing was safe.
Valentina handed her a tablet, expression unreadable. “Miss Isabella,” she said, voice clipped, “security reports indicate suspicious activity near your apartment. Someone may have been observing you before you moved in. They are careful, but they are persistent.”
Isabella’s pulse quickened. She had expected scrutiny
