The following morning, the penthouse was eerily silent. Isabella stood in the kitchen, nursing a steaming cup of coffee, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts. The plan Damien had laid out felt like walking a tightrope over a pit of fire. Every step was fraught with danger, and one misstep could destroy everything.
Damien entered the room, dressed impeccably in a dark suit. His commanding presence filled the space, yet his face was unreadable. He moved toward her with purpose, his dark eyes locking onto hers as if he could see straight into her soul.
“You didn’t sleep,” he observed, his voice low.
“I couldn’t,” Isabella admitted. “Too much on my mind.”
He stepped closer, his hand brushing against her cheek. “I told you, I’ll handle Antonov. You don’t have to worry.”
She placed her cup on t
