Something was wrong.
I’d been keeping my distance since the engagement party, forcing myself to stay within my boundaries. But I could see the shift in Alessia—the way her shoulders tensed, the way she barely touched her food, the way her mind was elsewhere.
And then there was Valentino.
That bastard was watching her. Always watching.
It made my blood boil.
I wanted to take her away. I wanted to grab her hand, pull her onto my bike, and never look back. But the chains of duty, of consequences, of her refusal held me back.
So I did the only thing I could.
I watched.
I waited.
And when I saw her storm out of Francesca’s room, her face pale, her breathing erratic, I followed.
"Alessia," I called, catching her in the hallway.
She froze for half a second before turning to me.
"Not n
