The morning sun filtered through the penthouse windows, casting long shadows across the marble floors. The air was heavy with tension as Damien stood near the dining table, his phone pressed to his ear. Isabella watched him from the couch, her fingers nervously tapping against her lap. The weight of Antonov’s looming threat was suffocating, and the knowledge that he had advanced his plans left her stomach in knots.
“I want everything in place before tonight,” Damien said into the phone, his tone sharp and commanding. “No mistakes.”
He ended the call abruptly, his dark eyes meeting Isabella’s. She could see the storm brewing within him, the controlled fury that made him both dangerous and alluring.
“What did you find out?” she asked, standing and crossing the room to him.
“Antonov’s hos
