Chapter 3: The First Test

The walk to the meeting room felt like a death march.

Daisy's heels clicked against the marble floor, each step echoing in the cavernous hallway. The dress Valentina had left behind was a masterpiece of cruelty—blood-red silk that clung to every curve, slit so high it was practically obscene. Daisy felt exposed. Vulnerable. Like a lamb being led to slaughter.

Enzo walked beside her, close enough that his arm brushed hers. He was a wall of cold, controlled power. His face was carved from stone, revealing nothing. But his hand found the small of her back, pressing lightly, guiding her forward.

"Remember," he murmured, his lips barely moving. "Cold. Cruel. Unfeeling."

Daisy nodded, her throat too tight for words.

They reached a set of massive double doors. Two guards flanked the entrance, their faces blank. They opened the doors without a word, and Daisy stepped into the lion's den.

The room was enormous, dominated by a long mahogany table that could seat thirty. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting sharp, unforgiving light across the faces of the men and women seated around it.

They were all watching her.

Daisy felt their eyes like physical blows. She could feel them dissecting her, measuring her, searching for cracks. These were predators. Wolves dressed in Armani and diamonds.

And they were hungry.

"Valentina." A man at the head of the table rose to greet her. He was older, maybe sixty, with silver hair and cold gray eyes that missed nothing. "We were beginning to worry about you."

Enzo stepped forward, positioning himself slightly in front of Daisy. "She had a medical emergency," he said smoothly. "A minor surgery. She's recovered now."

The older man's eyes narrowed. "Surgery? I wasn't informed."

"It was private," Enzo said, his voice leaving no room for argument. "Now, shall we begin? We have business to discuss."

Daisy felt a wave of relief. Enzo was protecting her, deflecting suspicion. But she knew she couldn't hide behind him forever. She had to prove herself.

She moved to the table, settling into the empty chair beside Enzo. She kept her spine straight, her expression blank. She let her eyes roam over the assembled faces with cold disinterest, just as Valentina would have.

Be cruel. Be unfeeling.

The older man—Daisy guessed he was one of the family elders—cleared his throat. "We've had reports that the Romanos are moving against us. Their soldiers have been spotted near our warehouses in Brooklyn."

"Then kill them," Daisy said, the words falling from her lips before she could stop them.

The room went silent.

Daisy's heart stopped. She'd spoken too sharply, too eagerly. A real Valentina would have been more calculating, more manipulative. She'd messed up.

But Enzo's hand found hers under the table, squeezing once. Reassurance.

"Valentina is right," he said smoothly. "The Romanos have been a problem for too long. It's time we reminded them who they're dealing with."

The silver-haired elder nodded slowly. "The Don's fiancée speaks with wisdom," he said, and Daisy could have wept with relief. "We'll move on the warehouses by the end of the week."

The meeting continued, and Daisy listened. Names. Places. Deals. Betrayals. It was a world of shadows and blood, and she was swimming in it.

She was acutely aware of Enzo beside her—the heat of his body, the subtle scent of his cologne, the way his hand occasionally brushed against hers. He was a rock in the storm, steady and unyielding.

And she was beginning to trust him.

That was dangerous.

The meeting drew to a close, and the family members filed out. Daisy started to rise, but Enzo's hand on her arm stopped her.

"Not yet," he murmured. "Matteo is coming. He's the brother. He'll test you."

Daisy's stomach clenched. The brother. She'd forgotten about him. Enzo had mentioned him only briefly—younger, resentful, always looking for an edge.

A man strode into the room, and Daisy's first impression was that he was too handsome. He had Enzo's dark hair and sculpted features, but his eyes were brown, not blue. His smile was too wide, too practiced. He looked like a wolf pretending to be a puppy.

"Valentina," he said, spreading his arms wide. "You're back. I was so worried."

He moved to embrace her, and Daisy tensed. She didn't know the protocol here. Did Valentina hug the brother? Did she push him away?

She was acutely aware of Enzo beside her—the heat of his body, the subtle scent of his cologne, the way his hand occasionally brushed against hers. He was a rock in the storm, steady and unyielding.

And she was beginning to trust him.

That was dangerous.

The meeting drew to a close, and the family members filed out. Daisy started to rise, but Enzo's hand on her arm stopped her.

"Not yet," he murmured. "Matteo is coming. He's the brother. He'll test you."

Daisy's stomach clenched. The brother. She'd forgotten about him. Enzo had mentioned him only briefly—younger, resentful, always looking for an edge.

A man strode into the room, and Daisy's first impression was that he was too handsome. He had Enzo's dark hair and sculpted features, but his eyes were brown, not blue. His smile was too wide, too practiced. He looked like a wolf pretending to be a puppy.

"Valentina," he said, spreading his arms wide. "You're back. I was so worried."

He moved to embrace her, and Daisy tensed. She didn't know the protocol here. Did Valentina hug the brother? Did she push him away?

She chose the middle path—accepting the embrace stiffly, her body rigid.

Matteo pulled back, his eyes searching hers. "You seem different," he said, his voice too casual. "Quieter. More... gentle."

Daisy forced a cold smile. "Surgery is exhausting, Matteo. It takes a lot out of a woman."

Matteo's eyes narrowed. "Yes," he drawled. "I'm sure it does." He turned to Enzo, his expression hardening. "We need to talk. Privately."

Enzo's jaw tightened. "Whatever you have to say to me, you can say in front of Valentina."

Matteo laughed, but there was no humor in it. "You trust her now? After everything she's done?"

"Watch your tongue," Enzo warned, his voice dropping to a dangerous register.

But Matteo wasn't finished. He turned back to Daisy, his eyes glittering with malice. "You know, I never understood why my brother chose you. You're beautiful, sure. But beautiful women are a dime a dozen in this world. You're cold. You're cruel. You've never shown him an ounce of real affection. So why does he keep you around?"

Daisy opened her mouth, but no words came. She didn't know how to answer that. She didn't know why Enzo kept Valentina around. It made no sense—unless there was something she was missing.

"She's a means to an end," Enzo said flatly. "Nothing more."

The words cut through Daisy like a knife. She knew he was performing. She knew he had to say it to maintain the illusion. But it still hurt.

You don't love him, she reminded herself fiercely. This is all an act.

But her heart didn't seem to care.

Matteo studied her for a long moment, his head tilted. "You know what I find interesting?" he said slowly. "You've been gone for two weeks. Two weeks without a trace. And now you're back, softer, sweeter, like someone glued a mask over your old face." He stepped closer, and Daisy had to resist the urge to flinch. "What happened to you, Valentina? Did you finally find a heart somewhere?"

Daisy held his gaze, forcing her hands to stay still. "Maybe I just realized that cruelty is exhausting," she said, her voice steady. "Maybe I decided that being nice was easier."

Matteo laughed. "Valentina Rossi. Nice." He shook his head. "I don't believe it for a second."

He turned and strode out of the room, leaving Daisy alone with Enzo.

The silence was deafening.

"He knows," Daisy whispered. "He suspects."

"He's always suspected," Enzo said grimly. "Matteo is a snake. He's been looking for an excuse to tear me down for years. He won't give up easily."

"Then what do we do?" Daisy asked, her voice shaking. "If he exposes me, I'm dead. We're both dead."

Enzo's hand found her chin, tilting her face up to meet his eyes. His thumb brushed across her cheek, and Daisy's breath caught.

"Then we make sure he doesn't have anything to expose," he said softly. "I've survived worse threats than my brother, Daisy. I'll protect you. No matter what it costs."

Daisy believed him. And that terrified her more than any threat Matteo could make.

"Now," Enzo said, releasing her chin. "I need to check on something. Stay in your room. Don't talk to anyone. And keep being Valentina."

"Where are you going?" Daisy asked, hating how desperate she sounded.

Enzo paused at the door, his profile silhouetted against the harsh light. "To find out the truth," he said. "About who you really are. And why you look exactly like the woman I was supposed to marry."

"Please, Daisy," he added, and there was something almost fragile in his voice. "Be careful."

He left her standing in the empty room, her heart pounding and her mind racing.

She was falling for him. A man who could kill her without blinking. A man who was using her for his own ends. A man who would never love her because he didn't even know who she was.

And somewhere out there, the real Valentina was still watching.

The thought made Daisy's blood run cold.

She stumbled to her room and locked the door. She leaned against it, her hands shaking, her breath coming in short, desperate gasps.

Pull yourself together. You can do this. You have to do this.

She looked up, and her heart stopped.

There, on the bed, was a single red rose.

The same kind she used to sell in her shop.

And tucked beneath the stem was a note:

"I know who you are, little flower. And I'm coming home."

Daisy screamed.