Page 16 of Shattered Engagement

I observe her movements, the way her body tenses and releases with each step. Even distraught, she moves with innate grace. “We have two options,” I say, keeping my voice clinical. I can reject this assignment, citing a made-up medical emergency, or we can agree that what happened that night stays between us.”

She spins to face me. “And if I ask why you’re really here? Because I don’t believe for a second this is a standard security detail.”

Clever girl. There’s more to Isadora De Angelis than the spoiled mafia princess I’d expected.

“My job is to protect you until you marry Luca. That’s all you need to know.”

“While what? Pretending you haven’t seen me naked? That you haven’t had your mouth between my legs?” Her bluntness is a weapon meant to unbalance me.

Instead, it ignites something primal. I close the distance between us in two strides, stopping just short of touching her. “Careful,principessa,” I warn, my voice dropping to a growl. “The walls in this house may well have ears.”

Her breathing quickens, pupils dilating as I loom over her. “Don’t call me that.”

“It’s what you are, isn’t it? The De Angelis princess, soon to be Calviño’s queen. Being traded for power and influence.” I lean closer, catching the scent of her perfume—something expensive, floral, nothing like the heated musk of her skin I remember from that night. “Tell me, does Luca know you fuck strangers in club bathrooms?”

Her palm connects with my cheek, the slap sharp and sudden. I catch her wrist before she can pull away, holding it firmly but not enough to bruise. Our faces are inches apart, her chest rising and falling rapidly with each breath.

“Let me go,” she whispers, though she makes no real effort to pull away.

“Remember this moment, Isadora,” I murmur, releasing her wrist slowly. “This heat between us? This anger? It’s dangerous for both of us. We need to control it.”

She steps back, rubbing her wrist, though I know I didn’t hurt her. “Fine. Professional distance. We never met before today.”

“Exactly.” I straighten my jacket, restoring the barrier of formality between us. “Now, we should discuss your actual security arrangements. There are protocols you’ll need to follow.”

She nods, visibly pulling herself together. “Of course. The wedding is in ten days. You’ll be gone after that. We can manage ten days.”

The confidence in her voice doesn’t reach her eyes. We both know this attraction isn’t something that can be switched off like a light.

“Ten days,” I echo. “Now, show me the house layout. I need to assess all entry points and establish secure protocols.”

As she leads me back toward the main house, I maintain a proper distance behind her. But I can’t help noticing the way her dress hugs the curves I’ve had my hands on, the elegant line of her neck where I’d left marks that must have faded by now.

Almost two weeks of constant proximity to the woman who’s unknowingly become a piece in my revenge against Giancarlo. The woman promised to my half-brother. The woman whose taste I can still remember on my tongue.

The universe has a twisted sense of humor.

But I’ve waited twenty years for my revenge. I’ve built an identity, infiltrated my father’s organization, and earned trust and power. I won’t let desire, no matter how consuming, derail my plans.

Isadora De Angelis is just another complication. A beautiful, intoxicating complication that I’ll need to manage carefully.

As we reach the terrace, she glances back at me, and for a moment, I see the fire in her eyes that first drew me to her at the club. The same wildness that had made her whisper “I want you to make me forget everything but this moment” against my lips.

Ten days.

It’s going to be a special kind of hell.

6

Isadora

“He’ll be accompanying you everywhere until the wedding.”

My father’s words linger in the air between us as I stare at him across the breakfast table. Sofia, my mother, sips her espresso with practiced indifference, as if the assignment of my personal jailer is merely a minor detail in the wedding preparations.

“Everywhere?” I repeat, keeping my voice steady despite the panic clawing at my throat. “That’s excessive.”

“The wedding is in nine days,” my father says, his tone leaving no room for argument. “The alliance with the Calviño family is too important to risk any... incidents.”

---