Nikolai POV
Rain turned Manhattan into a smear of silver as the convoy pulled away from the Moretti estate.
I watched the house disappear through the rear window.
Warm light spilled from its tall windows, gold against the black night, soft enough to look inviting and guarded enough to remind anyone with intelligence that beauty could still kill.
The Moretti estate did not look like my father’s house. It did not feel like it either. It welcomed and warned at once.
Their home breathed.
Mine waited.
That was the first difference.
The second was Valentina.
I could still see her standing beneath the chandelier, ivory silk against candlelight, my ring on her finger and that almost-smile on her mouth when she told me to be careful.
Careful.
She had turned the word into a weapon. Then
