Valentina barely slept.
The hours between midnight and dawn stretched with the cruelty of a night that refused to offer any reprieve.
She lay on her back, staring at the ceiling, while the night replayed itself in her mind with merciless accuracy of the day's drama: the kitchen, the low amber light, and the way Dante’s eyes had found hers across the room, just seeing her, but studying her.
She understood what it was. A man who possessed immense power demonstrating it, testing the newest trophy in his environment.
Isabella had been right about that much, at least.
Just as the grey suggestion of dawn bled into the sky, a soft knock sounded against the door, three exact beats.
Valentina swung her legs off the bed, smoothed her silk nightgown out of habit, and opened the door.
Isabel
