The invitation arrived like a threat dressed in silk. A courier in a tailored suit delivered it to the Valenti estate at noon, hands trembling as he bowed low and avoided Calla’s eyes. Lorenzo took the envelope with two fingers as if it might bite. He brought it straight to Adrian’s office, where Adrian stood at the window, jaw set, phone pressed to his ear.
Calla watched the courier retreat down the drive at nearly a run. “Who was that?” she asked quietly. Adrian ended the call without answering. His gaze fixed on the envelope in Lorenzo’s hand. “The Council,” Lorenzo said. “The Italian families. Emergency summit. Tonight.” Adrian’s mouth tightened. “Location?” Lorenzo hesitated. “Palazzo Fiorente. Neutral ground.”
Calla’s pulse jumped. “Neutral ground is never neutral.” Adrian’s eyes f
