The evening air was cool, laced with tension and the lingering scent of cigars and roses. Elena stood alone in the vast garden behind the villa, watching the moonlight glimmer off the marble statues Lorenzo’s ancestors had collected from across Europe.

They’d been at war for centuries.

But now it was her war, too.

She heard his footsteps before she felt his presence.

Lorenzo slipped behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, lips grazing the shell of her ear. “You disappeared after the meeting.”

“I needed air,” she whispered. “And space to think.”

His grip didn’t loosen. If anything, it tightened.

“Elena,” he said, voice rough, “you’re not alone...