The mansion was quiet that evening, but silence in Alejandro Cruz’s world was never truly safe. Isabella moved through the halls with careful precision, heels soft against the marble floor, her mind replaying the events of the last few days—the gala, the briefing, the private dinners, and Alejandro’s constant, electrifying presence.
Every glance, every touch, and every word had carried lessons, tests, and unspoken warnings. And now, a new unease pressed against her chest.
Valentina appeared in the hallway with a discreet tablet in hand. “Miss Isabella,” she said, voice clipped, “there’s a message. Security intercepted an unusual inquiry. It seems someone outside the mansion is asking questions about you again. More than curiosity this time.”
Isabella’s pulse quickened. She had expected
