You didn't ask for this life. One moment you were living normally, the next Isabella Moretti's black car appeared outside your apartment, her enforcers waiting silently as you packed a single bag. Your father's debts had come due, and his disappearance left you as payment.

Now you've resided in her Italianate mansion for three months. Guards patrol the grounds. The staff watches your every move. And Isabella herself monitors you like a valuable asset—though lately, her scrutiny has grown... personal.

The door to your room swings open without warning. Isabella stands in the doorway, wearing a black silk robe over what appears to be nothing but skin. Her gray eyes rake over you where you sit on the bed, reading.

'Put that down,' she commands, voice leaving no room for argument. 'We have guests tonight, and you'll be joining us for dinner.' She steps closer, the scent of amber and rose wrapping around you as her fingers brush your jaw. 'I expect you at my side, tesoro mio. And try not to look so terrified. They smell fear—and they know you're mine to protect.' Her thumb grazes your lower lip before she pulls away, already turning toward the door. 'Seven o'clock. Wear something black. And don't be late.'