Novels by Ann Lottimore

The day bled into dusk without ceremony.The sky over Geneva turned a shade too dark too soon, like even the clouds knew what was coming. Inside the villa, everything looked the same — polished floors, tall windows, manicured stillness — but the energy had shifted. Siena felt it first. Not through sight, but instinct. The way animals sensed a storm before the first crack of thunder.Adriano hadn’t said much since the last security report.He was pacing now. Not his usual calculated stride, but short, sharp turns across the hallway outside Lucia’s room. A man rehearsing outcomes he couldn’t control.Siena sat on the edge of the bed, brushing her daughter’s hair with trembling fingers. Lucia slept deeply, worn out from medication, cheeks flushed with warmth that Siena kept telling herself was healing, not fever.But even that lie began to crack when she heard the first gunshot.It wasn’t close. Not yet. But it was real. Echoing in the distance like a starting bell.She froze.Adriano st

The storm was no longer just outside. It had seeped into the walls. Every step in the villa echoed sharper, every glance lasted a beat too long. Siena could feel it — that shift in the air, like the entire place was holding its breath. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. Zara found her in the hallway near the clinic wing, her face pale, lips set in a tight line. She didn’t speak at first — just walked beside Siena in silence for several long steps. Then she said, quietly, “There’s a breach.” Siena stopped cold. “What kind of breach?” Zara hesitated — and that alone made Siena’s stomach twist. “Not outside,” Zara said. “Inside.” Siena’s voice dropped. “What do you mean?” Zara’s expression didn’t change. “Someone within the staff has been transmitting coordinates. Messages were intercepted just an hour ago.” Siena’s breath caught. “Someone here?” she asked. “In the house?” Zara nodded once. “We’re running internal sweeps now. Communications are restricted. But Mr. Valtasa

The villa had turned into a fortress.Iron gates locked. Cameras tracking every flicker of motion. Armed guards at every door, posted like statues. Drones above the property. Even the birds didn’t seem brave enough to fly too close.But Siena Costa had never felt more trapped.She sat by the wide window in one of the guest rooms, overlooking the rain-slicked drive. Somewhere in the shadows beyond those trees, danger waited — real, breathing men with guns and hunger in their eyes.And they weren’t just after Adriano anymore.The walls might’ve been thick, the alarms sensitive, but she knew — safety was an illusion. The kind you could taste right before it shattered.She heard the quiet sound of the door opening behind her. No knock. Just the soft click of someone who knew he didn’t need permission.Adriano.She didn’t turn to face him. Just kept watching the trees sway.“You should try to rest,” he said.Siena’s voice was a whisper. “Lucia’s asleep. I’m not leaving her alone.”“I poste

The silence hadn’t even settled before it shattered again.Siena stood frozen in the hallway, heart pounding after Adriano’s parting words — “Stay where I can see you.” She was still trying to process the weight of them, the intensity in his eyes, when the alarm began to blare.Not a siren. Not something theatrical.Just a sharp, repeating chime — low and cold — echoing through the marble halls like a pulse of war.Within seconds, the corridor exploded into motion. Armed men in black tactical gear stormed past her, their boots pounding, radios crackling with clipped commands in Italian and French. Siena instinctively pressed her back to the wall, arms around her middle, trying to breathe.This wasn’t panic.This was response.Training.Preparation.They’d been expecting this.A guard paused just long enough to speak to her.“Miss Costa, go to the child. Now.”She didn’t hesitate.She turned and ran.—The corridors blurred around her — glass, stone, shadow. The air tasted different no

The rain came lightly in the early afternoon—thin, hesitant droplets brushing the wide windows of the villa like fingers searching for a way in. Siena sat alone on the edge of the small balcony outside Lucia’s room, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, her tea untouched on the small table beside her.Lucia was sleeping again. Peacefully, this time. The doctors had adjusted her medication, and her breathing had steadied. Siena had watched her daughter’s chest rise and fall for nearly an hour before she allowed herself to exhale.And now… now the silence was dangerous.Because in silence, thoughts grew wild.She stared out over the garden — stone pathways, trimmed hedges, iron fences. All of it flawless. All of it locked in place like a well-oiled machine.Just like him.Adriano.She didn’t want to think about him. But she always did.Ever since they arrived in Geneva, he’d kept his distance. He hadn’t touched her again. Hadn’t pushed. Hadn’t even raised his voice. But Siena could st

The light came in slowly, pale and soft, filtering through the sheer curtains like a whispered promise. The villa was quiet — the kind of quiet that only comes after chaos. Siena stirred in the armchair beside the hospital-style bed, her limbs stiff from hours of half-sleep. A blanket had slipped from her shoulder. Her neck ached. But she didn’t care.Lucia lay still in the bed, her tiny chest rising and falling with even rhythm. No coughing. No fever. Just peace.Siena exhaled shakily, letting her head fall back against the chair. Her eyes closed for a beat, not in exhaustion this time — but in fragile relief.She’s okay. For now.Her fingers brushed against Lucia’s small hand on top of the blanket. Still warm, but not burning. The doctors had done something last night — transfusion, antibiotics, oxygen therapy. Siena had barely listened to the terminology. All she’d cared about was the moment Lucia finally stopped shivering.And now…Now she was afraid to hope.She sat upright again