Chapter 6

The ride back felt longer than it should have, as if the city itself had stretched just to keep me trapped inside that car a little longer. The lights outside blurred into soft streaks, but I could not focus on them. My thoughts refused to settle, circling back to the same moment over and over again, to the way Isabella had looked at me, to the urgency in her voice that still clung to me like something I could not shake off.

You are not safe with him.

The words pressed into me with every breath, not fading, not softening, only growing heavier the more I tried to ignore them.

Beside me, Alessandro remained still.

Too still.

Not the kind of stillness that came from calm, but the kind that came from control, the kind that felt intentional, like every movement had been stripped away so that nothing unnecessary remained. It made it impossible not to notice him, impossible not to feel the quiet weight of his presence even without him saying a single word.

I shifted slightly in my seat, turning my head just enough to study him without making it obvious. The sharp line of his jaw was more defined now, his gaze fixed ahead, his expression composed in a way that felt almost too precise.

“You have been quiet,” I said, breaking the silence before it could swallow me whole.

He did not look at me immediately. When he finally spoke, his voice was calm, but there was something beneath it that felt sharper than before.

“I am thinking.”

“That never ends well,” I replied, my tone softer than I intended, my eyes still on him.

“It depends,” he said slowly, “on what I decide to do with those thoughts.”

Something in the way he said it made my chest tighten.

I turned more fully toward him, unable to ignore the pull of his presence any longer.

“And what exactly are you thinking about?” I asked, my voice quieter now, more careful.

He did not hesitate.

“You.”

The word landed heavier than it should have.

I let out a breath, but it did not feel like enough.

“That is not comforting,” I said, though there was less resistance in my voice than before.

“It is not meant to be,” he replied, finally turning his head slightly, his gaze meeting mine.

There was something different in his eyes.

Not just control.

Something more focused.

More deliberate.

The rest of the ride passed without another word, but the silence between us had changed. It was no longer empty. It felt charged, as if something had shifted beneath the surface and neither of us was willing to name it.

By the time we reached the penthouse, I already knew something was wrong.

*****

The moment I stepped inside, my body reacted before my mind could catch up.

The air felt heavier.

Not physically, but instinctively, like something unseen had settled into the space and refused to leave.

There were more guards than before, positioned carefully, deliberately, their movements subtle but controlled. Unfamiliar faces stood where there should have been none, their attention sharp even when they tried to hide it.

And every single one of them noticed me.

Not openly.

But enough.

I slowed without realizing it, my steps losing their rhythm.

“This is new,” I said, my voice quieter now, cautious.

Alessandro moved beside me, close enough that I could feel the warmth of him brushing faintly against my arm, grounding and overwhelming at the same time.

“It is necessary.”

“For what?” I pressed, turning to face him fully, frustration beginning to rise again. “You keep saying that like it explains anything.”

His gaze met mine, steady, unwavering.

“You were followed tonight.”

The words struck something deep inside me.

“That is not possible,” I said, though my voice lacked the certainty it should have had.

“It is,” he replied.

“And you let that happen?” I asked, stepping closer, the frustration in my voice breaking through.

Something shifted in his expression.

Not anger.

Something colder.

“I do not let anything happen,” he said, his voice dropping slightly, more controlled now.

“Then explain it,” I insisted.

He watched me carefully, his eyes scanning my face as if deciding how much to reveal.

“Someone is watching you,” he said.

The words settled into the space between us, heavy and unavoidable.

“What does that mean?” I asked, my voice quieter now, but no less intense.

“It means you are no longer just part of an arrangement,” he said, stepping closer, his presence pressing into mine. “You are a target.”

The word landed hard.

“For what reason?” I asked, my chest tightening. “Because of you? Because of this marriage?”

He did not answer.

And that silence told me everything.

“That is not an answer,” I said, my frustration rising again, sharper now.

“It is the only one you are getting,” he replied.

I exhaled sharply, turning away from him, pacing down the hallway, needing distance, needing space, needing anything that was not him standing so close and saying things like they were already decided.

But halfway down the corridor, something changed.

A feeling.

That quiet awareness that you are not alone.

I slowed.

My breath caught.

Then I heard it.

A step.

Behind me.

I turned sharply, my heart pounding.

“Who is there?” I called out, my voice tighter now.

No answer.

The hallway stretched empty, but the feeling did not disappear.

It settled deeper.

Then I saw it.

A flicker of movement at the corner.

Gone before I could focus.

I moved without thinking and a hand caught me.

Strong.

Immediate.

My body was pulled back, my back hitting the wall as the breath left my chest in a sharp exhale.

Alessandro.

His grip was firm around my arm, his other hand braced against the wall beside my head, trapping me completely, his body close enough that I could feel the heat of him, the solid presence of him pressing in without fully touching.

“What are you doing?” he demanded, his voice lower now, edged with something sharp.

“I saw someone,” I said, my breath uneven, my chest rising too fast. “There was someone there, I know it.”

His jaw tightened, his gaze searching mine, intense, focused.

“I told you not to move alone,” he said.

“I am not going to stand still while someone follows me,” I shot back, though my voice wavered slightly.

“You will if you want to stay alive,” he said, his tone dropping, heavier now.

The words settled into me, deeper than I expected.

“That was not a warning,” I said quietly. “That was a threat.”

“That was reality.”

“You should have told me everything,” I insisted.

“And you should have stayed where I could see you,” he replied, stepping closer, his body pressing into mine just enough to make the space between us disappear.

“You do not get to control me,” I said, though my voice softened.

His grip tightened slightly, grounding me.

“You think this is about control?” he asked.

“It is.”

“No,” he said, his voice lowering further, his face inches from mine. “This is about keeping you alive.”

“I did not ask for that.”

“You do not need to.”

“I am not helpless.”

“I know,” he said, his gaze locking onto mine. “That is exactly why you are in danger.”

The words settled deep.

His hand moved.

From my arm.

To my jaw.

His fingers closed around it, firm but not harsh, tilting my face upward.

My breath caught.

“Stop moving,” he said quietly.

“I am not afraid of you,” I replied, though my voice softened.

“I know,” he said, his thumb brushing slowly against my skin, deliberate, careful this time.

“You should be afraid of what you cannot see.”

The hallway felt smaller.

The space between us almost nonexistent.

“And you?” I asked, my voice barely above a breath. “What am I supposed to feel about you?”

For a moment, something shifted.

His expression softened.

Not completely.

But enough.

“You should stay close to me,” he said quietly.

Not a command.

Something gentler.

Something that made my chest tighten in a way I did not expect.

“You make that sound like a choice,” I said.

“It is,” he replied.

The way he said it made something inside me falter.

His hand did not leave my face.

Instead, his thumb brushed against my jaw again, slower now, almost careful, as if he was testing something, as if he was allowing himself something he usually would not.

And I did not stop him.

That was the most dangerous part.

Because for a moment, everything else faded.

The threat.

The fear.

Even the anger.

And all I could feel was him.

******

I heard footsteps approaching.

The moment broke.

Alessandro stepped back, his hand falling away, leaving behind a space that suddenly felt too empty.

A guard approached, his expression tense.

“Sir,” he said.

Alessandro turned to him immediately.

“What is it?”

“There has been a breach.”

The air shifted again.

“What kind of breach?” Alessandro asked, his voice sharper now.

The guard hesitated, then glanced at me before speaking.

“They know.”

Alessandro’s gaze snapped back to mine.

“Know what?”

The guard swallowed.

“They know he is not the real bride.”

The words echoed.

I felt myself step back until the wall caught me again.

“They know,” I repeated quietly.

And in that moment, everything changed.

This was no longer hidden.

This was no longer safe.

This was exposure.