Page 58 of Shattered Engagement

His words strike a nerve because they contain a grain of truth. The heat between Stefano and me has been reckless from the start—in club bathrooms, garden greenhouses, his childhood apartment. Each encounter more desperate than the last, passion overriding caution.

“I need time to think,” I say, not having to fake the confusion in my voice. “This is... a lot to process.”

Luca studies me, calculation in every line of his face. “Of course. You have until your beloved ghost arrives.” He checks his watch. “I’ve given him until midnight tomorrow, though I expect him much sooner.”

Less than twenty-four hours. Not much time to formulate an escape plan.

“Could I at least have some water?” I ask, making my voice smaller, more vulnerable. “And maybe... loosen these ropes? They’re cutting into my skin.”

His lips curve in a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Playing the damsel now, Isadora? It doesn’t suit you.” But he moves to a small refrigerator in the corner, retrieving a bottle of water. “I prefer your fire. It’s what will make breaking you so satisfying.”

He approaches with the water, unscrewing the cap and holding it to my lips. I drink greedily, ignoring the humiliation of being fed like a child. Hydration matters more than pride right now.

“For what it’s worth,” he says, watching me drink, “I almost envy my brother. Having you look at him the way you never looked at me.” His free hand brushes my cheek in a mockery of tenderness. “So much passion wasted on a dead man walking.”

I jerk away from his touch, water spilling down my chin. “Stefano is twice the man you’ll ever be.”

His expression darkens. “And yet, I’m the one who holds your life in my hands.” He recaps the water bottle, setting it just out of my reach. “Think about my offer,cara.A throne beside me, or a grave beside him. Your choice.”

As he walks toward the door, I call out, “Why did you really rush the wedding? Was it because of the shipment, or because you knew what we were planning?”

Luca pauses, looking back with a smile that chills me to the bone. “Let’s just say your diary confirmed what I already suspected. The diary was quite... detailed about your activities with my brother. Especially that night in his bedroom.”

Heat floods my face as I realize what he’s read—every intimate moment, every touch, every whispered confession. The violation makes me nauseous.

“Don’t go anywhere,” he says with mock concern. “I have preparations to make for our family reunion.”

The door closes behind him with an ominous clang, and I hear the distinctive click of a heavy lock engaging.

Alone in the dim light, I test my restraints again, methodically seeking any weakness. My thoughts turn to Stefano—to amber eyes that see past every mask I’ve worn, to calloused hands that touch me with reverence rather than possession, to the man who offered to abandon twenty years of vengeance just to build a future with me.

Heat pools low in my belly at the memory of his body moving against mine, inside mine, his whispered promise: “I’ll find you,principessa.Always.”

I believe him. But Luca is counting on that too.

Taking a deep breath, I focus on my surroundings with renewed determination. I need to free myself before Stefano walks into Luca’s trap. Need to warn him that his half-brother has been playing both sides all along.

Because I refuse to be the bait that leads him to slaughter. Refuse to be a pawn any longer in games played by Calviño men.

It’s time this De Angelis princess saves herself—and the man she loves.

Even if I have to burn down both our families to do it.

20

Alessio

The warehouse looms before me like a mausoleum, silhouetted against the midnight sky. Rain pounds against my shoulders as I approach, each drop, another heartbeat counting down to whatever waits inside. My Beretta sits heavy against my ribs, a cold comfort against the fire burning through my veins.

Isadora is in there. With him. My half-brother. The not so golden son.

I check my watch—11:47 PM. Thirteen minutes early, but patience has abandoned me the moment I knew he had her. Twenty years of methodical planning shattered by the desperate need to reach her, to touch her, to know she’s unharmed.

“This is suicide,” Vittorio had warned when I refused backup. “At least let me position men outside.”

But Luca’s words echo in my head: Come alone, or I’ll send her back to our father in pieces. So here I stand, soaked to the skin, a ghost about to face his past and possibly his end.

The rusted side door yields to my touch, hinges groaning like a warning. Inside, darkness cloaks abandoned machinery, the scent of oil and neglect heavy in the air. I move silently, each step measured, senses hyperalert for any sign of her.

---