"Marry me for thirty days." Isabella De Luca slammed the contract onto Alessandro Moretti's desk hard enough to rattle the crystal glass beside his hand. Two men in black suits stopped talking. One reached inside his jacket. Alessandro lifted a finger. Both men froze. Then the Mafia King leaned back in his chair and looked at Isabella as if she were an unexpected bill he intended to send back unpaid. "Have you lost your mind?" "Not yet." She pushed a pen toward him. "But give me another week, and I might." His gaze moved from the contract to her face. Three months ago, she had promised herself she would never stand in front of him again. She had planned a dozen speeches for this moment. Every one vanished beneath the weight of his cold, familiar stare. "Security will show you out." "No." Isabella planted both hands on his desk. "You'll hear me first." One of the guards stepped forward. Alessandro's gaze cut toward him. "Wait outside." "But, boss-" "Now." The door closed behind the men. Silence filled the enormous office, broken only by the rain striking the windows. Isabella swallowed. She had come here to negotiate, not to remember the last time Alessandro had kissed her forehead and called her the only person he trusted. That man had disappeared long before she discovered what he had done. "Thirty days," she repeated. "You marry me. I play the devoted wife in public, and you help me get what I need. After thirty days, we divorce. No questions about my private affairs. No claims on my money or my freedom." His mouth curved without humor. "You think you can write rules for me?" "I think you need this marriage as much as I do." "Explain." "Your board is threatening to remove you from the charitable foundation your father left behind. They want a respectable wife beside you before the annual vote. Your enemies are telling everyone you're unstable, that you can't maintain a single relationship without destroying it." She leaned closer. "A temporary marriage gives you the picture-perfect billionaire image you need." "And what do you get?" "Protection." "From whom?" "That isn't part of the deal." Alessandro's face hardened. "Then there is no deal." He pushed the contract back across the desk. "You haven't even read the terms." "I don't need to read a contract written by a woman who walks into my office and expects me to rescue her." "I'm not asking you to rescue me." "No? You arrive in the middle of a storm, offer me a marriage with an expiration date, and refuse to tell me why you need my name. What would you call it?" "Business." "Then take your business elsewhere." She stared at him. "Fine." The word seemed to surprise him. Isabella picked up the contract, folded it once, and slipped it into her bag. She had spent weeks gathering the courage to make this offer. But she would not beg him to accept it. She turned toward the door. "Where are you going?" Alessandro asked. "To find a man who knows the value of a good offer." His fingers stilled on the desk. "You have no idea what you're saying." "I know exactly what I'm saying. Victor Salvatore has already offered to marry me." The room changed. Alessandro rose so quickly his chair rolled backward and struck the wall. The calm billionaire vanished; the man who remained made the air feel dangerous. "Say his name again." "Victor Salvatore." She held his stare. "Your rival. He has money, influence, and apparently better manners than you." "Did he touch you?" The question came out low and sharp. Isabella's heart stumbled, but she lifted her chin. "That's none of your concern." "Did he?" "You rejected my proposal. You don't get to interrogate me." "Salvatore doesn't marry women," Alessandro said. "He acquires leverage. If he offered you a ring, he wants something from you." "Maybe I want something from him, too." "What could you possibly give him?" "Your downfall." For one second, neither of them moved. Then Alessandro laughed once, without warmth. "There she is." "Who?" "The woman who used to look at me like I was worth saving." His eyes narrowed. "I wondered when she'd come back." "She never left. She just learned to stop being stupid." The words struck closer than she intended. His expression closed, but not before she saw the pain beneath the anger. Good, she told herself. Let him feel something. "You should leave," he said. "I will. My meeting with Salvatore is at noon tomorrow. I'm sure he'll be delighted to hear I'm available." "You're not marrying him." "You don't decide that." "I do if he plans to use you to start a war." "Then perhaps you should have thought about that before you rejected me." She walked past him. He didn't grab her or block the door. That almost made it worse. Isabella reached for the handle, refusing to turn around. "Isabella." Her name in his voice nearly undid her. She opened the door. "If you walk out," he said, "don't expect me to come after you." She looked back at last. "I stopped expecting anything from you the night you chose your empire over me." The color drained from his face. Instead, he said, "You don't know what happened that night." "Then you should have told me." She left before he could answer. The elevator doors closed, and Isabella's hands began to shake. She pressed her palms together until the tremor eased. She had made her offer. He had refused. Now she would do what she had promised and meet Victor Salvatore. Her phone vibrated. UNKNOWN NUMBER: Don't go to Salvatore's house tomorrow. A second message appeared. UNKNOWN NUMBER: He knows what happened to your brother. Isabella stopped breathing for a beat. Her younger brother, Matteo, had vanished six weeks ago after telling her he had found proof that someone inside the Moretti organization was selling information to their enemies. The police had called it a runaway case. Isabella knew Matteo would never leave without telling her. She typed back with numb fingers. ISABELLA: Who is this? The reply came immediately. UNKNOWN NUMBER: Someone who wants you alive. Ask Alessandro why he ordered the docks sealed the night Matteo disappeared. The elevator doors opened into the lobby. Isabella barely noticed the guards watching her. She hurried through the revolving doors and into the rain, her thoughts colliding. Alessandro had been the last person to admit seeing Matteo. He had claimed he knew nothing. Had he lied to protect his organization-or to protect her? A black car rolled to the curb. The rear window lowered. Victor Salvatore sat inside, dressed in a pale suit, his smile smooth enough to be mistaken for kindness. "Isabella," he called. "I heard your proposal didn't go as planned." She stepped back from the car. "Were you following me?" "I prefer to call it keeping an eye on a valuable opportunity." His smile widened. "Get in. We should discuss our wedding." "I haven't agreed to marry you." "Not yet." His gaze dropped to the bag holding her contract. "But I can give you what Moretti won't." "What's that?" "The truth about your brother." The words struck harder than the rain. Victor opened the car door. "Come alone, and I'll tell you where Matteo is. Bring Moretti, and your brother disappears for good." Isabella's phone buzzed again. This time, the message came from Alessandro. ALESSANDRO: Get away from Salvatore. I'm coming down. Victor extended his hand. "Choose, Isabella. The man who rejected you-or the man who can bring your brother home." Alessandro reached the curb just as Victor's driver started the engine. "Isabella, don't you dare get in that car!" She stood between the two men, clutching the contract that had been meant to save her. If she chose Victor, she might find Matteo-but hand herself to a dangerous enemy. If she chose Alessandro, she would be trusting the very man who might know why her brother had vanished. And as both men waited for her answer, Isabella realized the question was no longer whether Alessandro would marry her. It was which of them had her brother-and which one was lying?

"Get out of the car, Isabella." Alessandro's voice cut through the rain as he reached Victor Salvatore's vehicle. Two Moretti guards appeared behind him, blocking the street without touching anyone. Victor smiled from the passenger seat. "You're making a scene, Moretti." "You brought my enemy's missing family into a negotiation. You should be grateful I'm only making a scene." Isabella gripped the door handle. "You said you knew where Matteo was." "I do." Victor's smile sharpened. "Come with me, and I'll tell you." Alessandro stepped closer. "He's lying." "You don't know that," Isabella snapped. "I know Salvatore. He'd sell his own shadow if he could charge twice." "And you'd sell anyone if it protected your empire." His expression tightened. For a moment, the rain and the traffic seemed to disappear around them. Victor leaned toward her. "You see? He still thinks he can order you around. Come on, Isabella. Let's leave him to his little kingdom." Alessandro's gaze stayed on her. "If you get into that car, I can't protect you." "I never asked you to." "No," he said quietly. "You only asked me to marry you." That stopped her. Victor's smile faded. "Enough. We're leaving." The driver shifted into gear. Isabella looked at Victor, then at Alessandro. She hated that the only person who might know the truth about Matteo was the man she had sworn never to trust again. She stepped away from the car. "Tell me where my brother is," she demanded. Victor's eyes cooled. "You've just wasted your best chance." "Then it wasn't much of a chance." He raised two fingers. The car pulled away, leaving a sheet of dirty water across the curb. Alessandro caught Isabella by the elbow as she stumbled back from the splash. She immediately pulled free. "Don't touch me." "Then stop walking into danger." "Stop acting as if you care." His jaw flexed. "Get in my car." "No." "Isabella, someone knows you're searching for Matteo. Someone sent you a message using information that should never have left my organization. Until I know who, you're not going anywhere alone." "You don't get to give me orders." "I can't force you. But come somewhere secure and help me find your brother, or walk away and let Salvatore reach you first." "Why would you help me?" "Because Matteo may be the key to a problem that threatens us both." There it was. Not because he missed her. Because she and her brother were useful. "Fine," she said. "But I'm not your prisoner." "No locks. No guards outside your bedroom. You have my word." "Your word stopped meaning anything three years ago." She got into the car anyway. --- Alessandro took her to his penthouse, high above the city. He dismissed the two guards waiting in the hall before Isabella crossed the threshold. "Your room is there. The study is off-limits unless I'm with you. Don't leave the building without telling security." She gave him a flat look. "Those were instructions," he said. "Not a request." "And you wonder why I left you." The words landed between them. Alessandro removed his wet jacket and tossed it over a chair. "You didn't leave. You disappeared." "I left a letter." "A letter that said you never wanted to see me again. No explanation. No chance to speak." "You had three years to invent an explanation. I'm sure you found one that makes you innocent." He went still. "You believe I betrayed you." "I saw you with my own eyes." "You saw one moment and decided you knew everything." "I saw you standing beside a woman while she kissed you. Then I heard you tell your men that I was a weakness you couldn't afford." His face lost its color. "You heard that?" "I heard enough." Her voice trembled, and she hated it. "I had come to tell you I was pregnant." Silence swallowed the room. Alessandro stared at her as if she had struck him. "What?" "I lost the baby two days later. I was alone in a hospital, Alessandro. I called you six times. You never answered." He took a step toward her, then stopped himself. "I never received those calls." "Of course you didn't." "I swear-" "Don't." She lifted a hand. "You don't get to swear anything to me." His eyes searched hers, and for the first time that evening, his cold control cracked. "You were pregnant with my child?" "Not anymore." He looked away, one hand closing over the edge of the counter. She had imagined telling him this a thousand times. In some versions he begged her to forgive him. In others he broke down. She had never imagined him standing so still that he seemed carved from stone. "Who was the woman?" Isabella asked. "The one you kissed?" "Bianca Rinaldi. My father's allies arranged for her to be seen with me. I was trying to stop a hostile takeover. They wanted everyone to believe I was engaged to her." "You could have told me." "I planned to. The same night, my father was attacked. I spent hours at the hospital, then found out your apartment had been searched. By morning, you were gone." "You expect me to believe that?" "No." His voice was rough. "I expect you to hate me. But I will not let you believe I chose another woman over you." Her phone buzzed. A photograph appeared from the unknown number: Matteo outside a warehouse, bruised but unmistakably alive. Beneath it was a message. He's alive. Moretti knows where he is. Ask him what he traded for your brother's safety. Isabella turned the screen toward Alessandro. He read it, and his expression changed. "You do know something," she whispered. "I know the warehouse in that picture. It belongs to a shell company tied to Salvatore." "And the trade?" "I made an agreement to keep Matteo alive." "What did you give him?" "Nothing he could use to hurt you." "That isn't an answer." "It's the only one I can give until I know who sent that message." She backed away. "You're still keeping secrets." "To keep you alive." "I don't want your protection. I want the truth." "Then help me get it." He pulled her contract from her bag and placed it on the counter. "You wanted thirty days. I'll agree to the marriage." She stared at him. "You rejected me an hour ago." "An hour ago, you were about to walk into Salvatore's hands. Now I know someone is using Matteo to force us together." "So this is business." "At first, yes." "And after?" His eyes held hers. "After, we find out whether there's anything left between us worth saving." Her heart betrayed her with one hard beat. "I'm not marrying you because you can order me around." "You'll have your own lawyer, your own bank account, and the right to end this arrangement after thirty days. I won't touch you unless you want me to. But in public, we'll appear united. Salvatore will believe he has lost his chance to use you." "And if I refuse?" "I'll keep searching for Matteo. You can search too, but you'll be doing it without the protection my name provides." The offer was cruel because it made sense. She could refuse and risk losing her only lead, or accept and stand beside the man who had broken her heart. She picked up the pen. "One condition. No more lies." Alessandro's gaze dropped to the contract. "Agreed." She signed her name. He signed beneath it. "Thirty days," she said. "Then we're strangers again." "We were never strangers, Isabella." She turned to leave, but he caught her hand-not tightly, just enough to stop her. She looked down at his fingers until he released her. "Tell me one thing," he said. "When you thought I betrayed you, did you stop loving me?" "No," she whispered. "I stopped believing you deserved it." Something broke open in his expression. He moved closer, pausing for her to step away. She didn't. His gaze dropped to her mouth, then returned to her eyes. "Tell me to stop," he murmured. She should have. Instead, she caught the front of his shirt and kissed him. The kiss carried three years of grief neither had managed to bury. Alessandro kissed her back, but Isabella remembered the hospital and the unanswered calls. She pushed him away. "Don't mistake one kiss for forgiveness." "I won't." "Good. Because I still don't trust you." "Then I'll earn it." Her phone buzzed again. A new message appeared, this time from a number saved under no name. The wedding won't save Matteo. Ask Alessandro what happened at the docks-and why he was the last person to see your brother alive. Isabella slowly raised her eyes to the man she had just agreed to marry. "Alessandro," she said, her voice suddenly steady. "What did you do to my brother?"

"What did you do to my brother?" Isabella stood in the middle of Alessandro's penthouse, her phone clenched in one hand and their signed marriage contract lying between them. The message on the screen seemed to pulse with every beat of her heart. Alessandro didn't look away. "I didn't hurt Matteo." "That isn't what I asked." "I found him at the docks six weeks ago, stealing records from Salvatore's warehouse. My men got him out before the guards arrived." "And you didn't tell me?" "Matteo begged me not to. He said someone close to you would use you to get to him." Isabella's stomach tightened. "Who?" "He wouldn't say. He was terrified. I arranged a safe place for him, but before I could move him again, the location was compromised." "So you lost him." "I'm trying to find him." "You expect me to thank you for keeping me ignorant?" "No. I expect you to help me bring him home." She picked up the contract and tore it in half. His eyes followed the paper as it fell. "Thirty days?" she said. "Forget it. I won't marry a man who decides which truths I'm allowed to know." "Then we'll find Matteo without a marriage." "Good." "But you'll still need my help." "I'll use your name if I have to. I'll use your money if I can get it. But I will never confuse your help with trust again." She turned toward the guest room. "Isabella." She stopped, but didn't look back. "If Salvatore contacts you, tell me." "Why? So you can decide what I'm allowed to do?" "So I can keep him from using you." She walked away without answering. --- By eight the next morning, Isabella had made a plan. In a fitted black dress, Isabella took the elevator to Alessandro's office. His security chief, Marco, waited outside. "Your boss is inside," Marco said. "He hasn't slept." "Neither have I." "He's not going to like what you're planning." "Then he should have married someone who listens." She pushed past him. Alessandro stood over a table covered in photographs and warehouse maps. He glanced up, his gaze pausing on her dress. "Where are you going?" "To meet Victor Salvatore." "No." "You don't own my calendar." "He threatened your brother and tried to put you in his car yesterday." "Which is why I'm going to make him talk." Alessandro came around the table. "You're not walking into his territory alone." "I won't be alone. I'll have your name." "That's not protection." "It's a warning. Everyone knows Salvatore wants to prove he can take something from you. Let him think he's winning. He'll brag." "And you think you can manipulate him?" "I think men like Victor underestimate women who don't shout." A muscle jumped in Alessandro's jaw. "You're not going." "Then stop me." They stared at each other. Instead of calling his guards, he picked up his phone. "Marco, prepare two cars. No one approaches Isabella unless I authorize it. Keep a discreet distance." Isabella folded her arms. "I said I didn't need a babysitter." "We've both made our positions clear." She hated that he was right-and remembered how she preferred to fight: quietly, with a plan. "Fine," she said. "But I speak first." --- Victor chose a harbor restaurant with mirrored walls and private booths. He pulled out a chair as she entered. "You came without Moretti. I'm touched." "He's outside." Victor's smile thinned. "Then this is a business meeting." "It always was. You offered information about Matteo. I'm here to collect." "First, tell me why you want to marry Alessandro." "I don't." "Yet you signed a contract." "I signed nothing that belongs to you." Victor laughed softly. "There she is. The girl who once believed love could make a monster human." Isabella's fingers tightened around her glass. "You know about us." "I know more than you think. Alessandro had a weakness once. You. Then you disappeared, and he became the man everyone fears." "Enough about him. Where is my brother?" Victor slid a photograph across the table. It showed a warehouse interior and a young man sitting on a chair, his face turned away. Isabella recognized Matteo's jacket. "Proof he's alive," Victor said. "The rest comes at a price." "What do you want?" "Your marriage to Alessandro canceled. A public statement that the Moretti family has been hiding evidence of corruption. And access to the records Matteo stole." "You don't want me. You want what my brother found." "Now you're learning." Victor's smile disappeared. She had guessed correctly. "Where are the records?" he asked. "I don't know. But if Matteo hid them, he did it for a reason. And if you hurt him, I'll make sure every secret you've buried becomes public." "You think Moretti will let you do that?" "I don't need his permission." Victor glanced at the black car across the street. Alessandro was watching. "You've become very brave," Victor said. "Careful. Brave women make expensive mistakes." "Then tell me where Matteo is." Victor stood. "Ask your future husband what he traded to keep your brother alive." He walked away, leaving the photograph on the table. Isabella turned it over. On the back, someone had written numbers and one word: BELLADONNA. She slipped it into her bag. --- Alessandro was waiting beside the car when she came out. "What did he say?" "That you're hiding something." "That's not news." "He showed me a photograph of Matteo. He wants the records my brother stole, and he wants me to publicly accuse your family of corruption." "Did you agree?" "Of course not." Alessandro studied her. "Did he touch you?" She let out a disbelieving laugh. "Is that really what you care about?" "I care about everything that puts you in danger." "You don't get to be jealous and protective after keeping me in the dark." "I'm not jealous." "Then you won't mind if I have dinner with Victor tonight." His expression turned to ice. "You're not seeing him again." "There it is." "Isabella, he's trying to turn you into a weapon." "And you're trying to keep me where you can control me." "I'm trying to keep you alive!" Two guards glanced over. Alessandro lowered his voice, but his eyes stayed fierce. She softened for half a second. Then she remembered the hospital and the unanswered calls. "Stop making your fear sound like love," she said. He looked as if she'd struck him. She got into the car. --- Back at the penthouse, Marco reported that someone had opened Matteo's storage unit with a forged access card. Security footage showed a woman in a white coat leaving with a metal case. Isabella recognized her instantly. "Bianca Rinaldi." Alessandro took the image from Marco. "She was supposed to be out of the country." "Your former fiancée?" Isabella asked. "She was never my fiancée." "She kissed you." "She was paid to make it look real." "And now she's stealing from my brother. Convenient." Alessandro's phone rang. He answered, listened, and went pale. "What happened?" Isabella demanded. He ended the call. "The storage unit was wired with a tracker. Whoever opened it has led Salvatore's men to one of my safe houses." "Is Matteo there?" "We don't know." "Then we go." "I'll take a team." "No. If Salvatore sees an army, he'll disappear." Alessandro stared at her, then nodded once. "We move quietly." Before they could leave, Isabella's phone rang. She answered and heard a strained breath. "Bella?" Her knees nearly gave way. "Matteo? Where are you?" "Listen to me. Don't trust-" A crash sounded through the phone. Matteo gasped. "Matteo!" His voice returned, faint and urgent. "The records aren't about Moretti. They're about the person who ordered the hit on Dad." The line went dead. Isabella stared at the screen. Her father's death had been called a robbery for years; Matteo had found evidence of murder. Alessandro reached for her, but stopped before touching her. "Tell me what he said." She looked at him, fear and fury fighting in her chest. "He said the records reveal who killed our father." Alessandro's face changed. "You knew," she whispered. "You knew my father was murdered." Before he could answer, Marco rushed back into the room with a gun in his hand. "Boss, we have a problem. The safe house has been breached." A photograph arrived on Isabella's phone. Matteo was kneeling on a concrete floor, a man's hand gripping his shoulder. Behind him stood Bianca Rinaldi, holding the metal case. The message beneath it read: Bring Isabella alone, or her brother dies tonight. Alessandro reached for the phone. Isabella pulled it away. "No," she said. "This time, I decide what happens." But as she stared at the photograph, she saw something that made her blood run cold. Matteo was wearing Alessandro's signet ring. Why did her missing brother have the Mafia King's most private possession-and what had Alessandro really promised to keep him alive?