Annabelle barely had time to process Angelo’s unsettling words or quell the storm of emotions they’d stirred before one of Dante’s men entered the room.

His presence, as stoic and foreboding as always, immediately sent her mind spiralling.

“What now?” she thought, her frustration mixing with unease.

“Miss Whitaker,” the man said with a clipped tone, his face betraying nothing. “Mr. Cazador has asked for you.”

Her heart skipped as the book she’d been holding slipped from her fingers and landed on the plush carpet with a soft thud.

For a moment, she sat frozen, the man’s words echoing ominously in her mind.

Dante wanted to see her?

Now?

Why?...