The last time Arabella Hayes saw her father, she was seventeen. He had stood at the entrance of their family estate, dressed in an expensive black suit, speaking to someone on the phone while she waited for him to notice her. She had spent twenty minutes rehearsing what she wanted to say. She had even bought him a birthday gift with money she had saved from her part-time job. He never looked at it. Instead, he handed her a cheque and told her she would be better off staying with her mother. That was the last conversation they ever had. Eight years later, she was standing in front of his coffin. "Are you going to be all right?" Arabella turned towards the woman beside her. Her mother's old friend, Margaret, had accompanied her to Rome after receiving the news. "I'm fine." Margaret gave her a doubtful look. "You don't have to pretend." "I'm not pretending. I barely knew the man." The words sounded harsher than she intended, but they were true. William Hayes had been a father in name only. He sent money occasionally, remembered birthdays when his assistants reminded him and disappeared for months without explanation. Arabella had stopped expecting anything from him years ago. Now he was dead, and somehow everyone expected her to grieve. The funeral was held at a private chapel outside Rome. The guests were dressed in black, their expensive watches and jewellery catching the light whenever they moved. Most of them looked more like businessmen than mourners. Yet there was something strange about them. Nobody spoke loudly. Nobody laughed. Even their greetings were exchanged in low voices, accompanied by brief handshakes and suspicious glances. Arabella noticed the way several men kept their hands close to their jackets. She also noticed the security personnel stationed around the property. Her father had always been wealthy, but she had never imagined he needed this much protection. "Who are all these people?" she whispered. Margaret followed her gaze. "Business associates, I suppose." "You suppose?" Before Margaret could answer, a tall man approached them. He was probably in his late forties, with silver beginning to show at his temples. His expression was polite, but his eyes were not particularly welcoming. "Miss Hayes?" Arabella nodded. "My name is Dominic Rinaldi. I was your father's attorney." "Nice to meet you." He glanced briefly at Margaret before returning his attention to Arabella. "Mr Hayes left specific instructions concerning you. I would appreciate a few minutes of your time after the service." Arabella frowned. "Concerning me?" "Yes." "Can it wait? I've just travelled across two countries to attend his funeral." "I'm afraid it cannot." There was something about his tone that made her uncomfortable. Still, she nodded. The funeral ended less than an hour later. Arabella had barely stepped away from the chapel when a commotion broke out near the entrance. Two men were arguing beside a black vehicle. Their voices were low, but their expressions were anything but friendly. One of them noticed her watching. His expression changed. He whispered something to the man beside him, and both immediately stopped talking. Arabella looked away. Rome was beautiful, but she was beginning to dislike the atmosphere surrounding her father's death. "Miss Hayes." Dominic had returned. "This way, please." He led her through a side entrance into the main building. Margaret offered to accompany her, but Dominic politely declined. "The meeting concerns matters that are strictly private." Arabella hesitated. "Then I'll wait outside," Margaret said. Arabella squeezed her hand before following the lawyer. They entered a spacious office overlooking the estate's gardens. Everything inside looked expensive, from the dark wooden furniture to the paintings hanging on the walls. A thick folder sat on the desk. Dominic gestured towards a chair. "Please sit." Arabella remained standing. "Can we get this over with? I have a flight tomorrow." The lawyer studied her for a moment before opening the folder. "Your father changed his will approximately six months ago." "All right." "He left you the entirety of his personal estate, including his properties, investments and controlling interests in several companies." Arabella blinked. "Excuse me?" "You're his sole beneficiary." She stared at him. There had to be a mistake. Her father had other relatives. She knew he had a younger brother and several cousins. Surely one of them would have been a more reasonable choice. "How much are we talking about?" Dominic mentioned a figure. Arabella slowly lowered herself into the chair. It was an amount of money she couldn't even begin to imagine. "Why me?" "Your father was very particular about his decision." "He didn't speak to me for eight years. Why would he suddenly leave me everything?" Dominic closed the folder. "That is something you may have to discover for yourself." Arabella let out a humourless laugh. "That's convenient." "There is one more matter." She looked up. "Of course there is." "Your father's estate includes interests that cannot be discussed in the presence of anyone outside the family." "What does that mean?" Dominic seemed to consider his next words carefully. "Your father was not simply a businessman, Miss Hayes." Arabella's expression hardened. "Then what was he?" The lawyer didn't answer immediately. Instead, he walked to the desk and retrieved another document. "William Hayes was the head of the Hayes organisation. For over twenty years, he controlled a significant portion of the European criminal underworld." For a moment, Arabella thought she had misunderstood him. Then she laughed. Not because anything was funny, but because the alternative was accepting that the man sitting across from her had just told her that her father was a criminal. "You're joking." "I wish I were." "My father owned companies. He had hotels, restaurants and properties. Whatever private business he conducted is none of my concern." "Unfortunately, it is now." Arabella stood. "No. Whatever arrangement he had with you people, I want no part of it." Dominic remained seated. "You're entitled to refuse the inheritance." "Good." "But you should understand that refusing it will not necessarily free you from the consequences of your father's death." She stopped. "What consequences?" "Your father's position was never an ordinary one. There are people who will consider you a legitimate successor, whether you want the responsibility or not. Others will see his death as an opportunity." Arabella stared at him. "Are you threatening me?" "I'm warning you." She picked up her handbag. "Then I suggest you find someone else to warn." Dominic didn't try to stop her. But just as she reached the door, his voice followed her. "Your father left you a personal letter." Arabella paused. "Where is it?" He held out a sealed envelope. Her name was written across the front in her father's unmistakable handwriting. For several seconds, she simply stared at it. Then she took it. She didn't open it until she was alone in the car. The first few lines were brief. Arabella, If you're reading this, then I am no longer alive, and you have probably discovered that the life you thought you knew about me was only a fraction of the truth. Her fingers tightened around the paper. I know I failed you. I know I have no right to ask for your forgiveness. But there is something I need you to understand. The empire I built is now yours. Do not surrender it to the Vescari family. Especially not to Alessio. Arabella read the last line twice. Alessio Vescari. She had never heard that name before. The letter continued. There are things about your mother's departure that I never told you. There are also things about your birth that you have every right to know. Trust no one until you understand what happened. And whatever you do, do not let them put you on that throne. The letter slipped slightly between her fingers. Her mother's departure? What did that have to do with anything? Before she could read the final paragraph, a sharp knock sounded against the car window. Arabella jumped. The driver, a broad-shouldered man she had never seen before, stood outside. He gestured for her to lower the window. She hesitated before pressing the button. "Yes?" "Miss Hayes, we need to leave." "Why?" His eyes moved towards the rear of the vehicle. "Now." Arabella followed his gaze. A black car had pulled up behind them. Two men stepped out. One remained beside the vehicle while the other approached, his expression unreadable. The driver immediately locked the doors. "Who are they?" Arabella asked. "Stay inside." The approaching man stopped beside her window and raised one hand. He wasn't holding a weapon. Instead, he held out a small black envelope. Arabella looked at it, then at him. "Who sent you?" The man leaned closer. "Someone who wants to meet the new head of the Hayes family." "I think you have the wrong person." His lips curved into the faintest smile. "No, Miss Hayes. I'm afraid we don't." He placed the envelope against the glass. "Mr Vescari sends his condolences." Arabella's stomach tightened. Alessio Vescari. The same name from her father's letter. Before she could ask another question, the man stepped away. The driver started the engine. Arabella looked down at the envelope in her lap. There was no name on it, only a single sentence written in neat handwriting. Your father left you a throne. Unfortunately, everyone else wants to sit on it. For the first time since arriving in Rome, Arabella felt genuinely afraid. She had come to bury a man she barely knew. She was leaving with an inheritance she didn't understand, a warning she couldn't ignore and the name of a stranger her dead father had specifically told her to fear. And somehow, she had the terrible feeling that the funeral was only the beginning.

Chapter 2 A Dangerous Invitation Arabella read the message for the fourth time. Your father left you a throne. Unfortunately, everyone else wants to sit on it. She dropped the envelope onto the passenger seat and looked through the window. "Where are you taking me?" The driver kept his eyes on the road. "To the residence, Miss Hayes." "What residence?" "Your father's." "I have a hotel reservation." "Mr Rinaldi cancelled it." Arabella turned towards him. "He did what?" "He said you would be safer at the estate." "Did he also tell you to kidnap me?" The man said nothing. She reached for her phone, intending to call Dominic, but the driver spoke again. "Miss Hayes, I understand that this is difficult, but you should avoid making unnecessary calls until we arrive." That was enough. "Stop the car." He glanced at her through the rearview mirror. "Excuse me?" "I said stop the car." "That wouldn't be wise." Arabella stared at him. She had spent most of her adult life dealing with people who assumed she was too polite to challenge them. Apparently, her father's employees were no different. "If you don't stop this vehicle, I'll start screaming." The driver sighed and pulled into a quiet lay-by. Arabella immediately reached for the door handle. "Miss Hayes." She ignored him. Before she could step outside, he spoke again. "My name is Matteo. I've worked for your father for eleven years. He personally instructed me to keep you safe if anything happened to him." She paused. "Why should I believe you?" "Because if I wanted to hurt you, I wouldn't have stopped the car." It wasn't particularly comforting. Arabella looked at him for a moment before getting back inside. "Fine. Take me to the estate. But don't expect me to start trusting everyone simply because they claim to have known my father." Matteo nodded and returned to the road. The Hayes estate was nothing like the modest properties Arabella remembered visiting as a child. The enormous iron gates opened before their vehicle approached. Beyond them stood a sprawling mansion surrounded by carefully maintained gardens, fountains and several security posts. It looked more like a private hotel than someone's home. Arabella stepped out of the car and adjusted her coat. A woman in her fifties hurried down the entrance steps. "Miss Arabella." She stopped in front of her, visibly emotional. "I'm Elena. I used to look after you when you were little." Arabella studied her face. There was something familiar about her, although the years had changed her considerably. "Elena?" The woman's expression softened. "You remember me." "Of course I do." Elena pulled her into a brief embrace. For the first time that day, Arabella felt something other than discomfort. "Come inside, sweetheart. You've had a long day." The warmth in Elena's voice almost made her forget why she was there. Almost. Inside, the mansion was painfully quiet. Staff members moved through the corridors, speaking in whispers. Several stopped to look at Arabella as she passed. Some bowed their heads. Others simply stared. She leaned towards Elena. "Why is everyone looking at me like that?" Elena hesitated. "Because you're the new head of the family." "I'm not." "Your father named you his successor." "That doesn't mean I agreed to it." Elena didn't argue. Instead, she led Arabella upstairs to a large bedroom overlooking the gardens. Her luggage had already been brought in. "Someone will bring you dinner." "Thank you." Elena turned to leave, but Arabella stopped her. "Can I ask you something?" "Of course." "Did you know what my father was involved in?" Elena's expression changed. For a moment, the older woman looked as though she wanted to say something. Then she glanced towards the open doorway. "Not everything is mine to tell." Arabella let out a frustrated breath. "That's becoming everyone's favourite answer." "I'm sorry." "Did my father really run a criminal organisation?" Elena lowered her eyes. "Your father was a complicated man. He made decisions that hurt people, but he also protected this family." "And what about my mother?" That made Elena look up. "What about her?" "Did you know why she left?" The silence that followed was answer enough. Arabella stepped closer. "Elena?" "I think you should rest tonight." "That's not an answer." "No," Elena admitted quietly. "It isn't." She left before Arabella could ask anything else. An hour later, Arabella was sitting on the edge of the bed with her father's letter spread across her lap. She had read it so many times that she practically knew the words by heart. There was something he hadn't explained. Something about her mother. Something about the Vescari family. And she had no intention of allowing a dead man to leave her with a collection of unanswered questions. Her phone vibrated. An unknown number. She almost ignored it, but a message appeared. You shouldn't have accepted the inheritance. Arabella frowned. Another message followed. Your father made enemies he couldn't afford to keep. She typed a reply. Who is this? The response came almost immediately. Someone who knows what happens to people who inherit things that don't belong to them. Arabella sat straighter. If you have something to say, say it properly. Three dots appeared. Then disappeared. A final message arrived. Ask Dominic Rinaldi what happened to your father's previous heir. Arabella stared at the screen. Previous heir? She immediately called Dominic. He answered after several rings. "Miss Hayes." "Who was my father's previous heir?" Silence. It lasted only a second, but she noticed it. "Where did you hear that?" "Does it matter?" "Arabella, I would advise you not to believe everything you receive from unknown numbers." "So there was someone?" "Your father had no other legitimate children." "That isn't what I asked." Dominic exhaled. "There were discussions about succession before your father changed his will. Nothing more." "Who was supposed to inherit?" "I think we should discuss this in person." "Why does everyone insist on discussing things in person?" "Because some conversations are better kept away from telephone lines." Arabella closed her eyes. "Fine. Tomorrow morning." "That would be best." Before ending the call, she asked one more question. "Do you know Alessio Vescari?" This time, Dominic didn't even attempt to hide his reaction. "Where did you hear that name?" "My father mentioned him in his letter." "Then I suggest you take that warning seriously." "Is he dangerous?" "Very." "Has he contacted you?" A pause. "Not yet." Arabella frowned. "What does that mean?" "It means you should stay away from him." The call ended. She lowered the phone slowly. For a man who claimed to be her attorney, Dominic seemed remarkably unwilling to explain anything. Arabella got up and walked towards the window. The gardens were illuminated by small lights, and a few security guards were patrolling the grounds. She was beginning to understand why her father had surrounded himself with so many people. He hadn't built a home. He had built a fortress. At eleven thirty, Arabella decided she needed something to drink. She left her bedroom and followed the corridor towards the staircase. The mansion was quieter now, with most of the staff gone to their quarters. As she descended the stairs, she noticed light coming from beneath the door of the study. She remembered seeing her father's photograph on the desk earlier. Curiosity got the better of her. The door wasn't locked. She stepped inside. The room smelled faintly of tobacco and leather. Shelves covered the walls, filled with books, documents and photographs. Arabella approached the desk. A framed picture caught her attention. It showed her father standing beside three men. One of them was Dominic Rinaldi. The second was an older man she didn't recognise. The third was younger, dressed in a dark suit with one hand resting casually in his pocket. His face was familiar. She stared at the photograph. It was the same man whose name had appeared in her father's letter. Alessio Vescari. There was something written on the back of the frame. Arabella turned it over. The agreement that should have ended with us. She read it twice. "What are you doing in here?" Arabella spun around. A woman stood in the doorway, dressed in a dark green silk robe. She was beautiful, perhaps in her early thirties, with perfectly styled blonde hair and an expression that suggested she wasn't accustomed to being questioned. Arabella straightened. "I could ask you the same thing." The woman stepped into the room. "Valentina Hayes." Arabella recognised the surname. "You're my father's niece?" "His brother's daughter." "I didn't know he had a niece." "Your father wasn't particularly generous with family information." Valentina's gaze moved towards the photograph in Arabella's hand. "Put that down." Arabella looked at her. "Why?" "Because some things in this house are better left untouched." "That's interesting. Everyone seems to have a different version of that advice." Valentina approached the desk and took the photograph from her. "You should unpack and settle in. This house can be overwhelming for someone who hasn't been here in years." "Are you suggesting I leave?" "I'm suggesting you understand where you stand." Arabella gave her a cold smile. "I think I'll figure that out myself." Valentina studied her for a moment before returning the photograph to its place. "Let's hope you do." She walked towards the door. Just before leaving, she stopped. "One more thing, Arabella." "What?" "If Alessio Vescari comes looking for you, don't make the mistake of thinking he's here to help." The door closed behind her. Arabella remained in the study, staring at the photograph. She was beginning to suspect that her father's death had created more than an inheritance dispute. It had exposed a family full of people who knew exactly what she didn't. And apparently, they were all terrified of one man. Alessio Vescari.

Arabella had barely slept. Every time she closed her eyes, she remembered the photograph in her father's study. Three men standing beside William Hayes, looking as though they owned the world. And the words written behind it. The agreement that should have ended with us. She had spent half the night wondering what kind of agreement could connect her father to a man he had specifically warned her against. By seven thirty, she had given up on sleep. She dressed in a cream blouse and black trousers, tied her hair into a loose bun and headed downstairs. Elena was already waiting in the dining room. "Good morning, sweetheart." "Morning. Is Dominic here?" "Mr Rinaldi arrived a few minutes ago. He's waiting in the study." Arabella reached for a piece of toast. "Does everyone in this house wake up early to discuss secrets?" Elena smiled faintly. "Your father used to say that secrets were the only things keeping this family alive." "Well, he certainly left enough of them behind." She finished her breakfast and headed towards the study. Dominic was standing beside the desk, speaking to another man. Both turned when she entered. "Miss Hayes." "Good morning. I hope you're ready to answer some questions today." Dominic gestured towards the chairs. "Of course." Arabella remained standing. "Who was supposed to inherit my father's organisation before he changed his will?" The other man glanced at Dominic. "Perhaps we should begin with the estate documents," the lawyer suggested. "No. We should begin with the question I asked." Dominic sighed. "Your father's younger brother, Richard, was once considered his successor." "Was?" "Richard died twelve years ago." Arabella frowned. "How?" "An accident." "What kind of accident?" "His vehicle went off a bridge." She waited for him to continue. When he didn't, she asked, "And his children?" "Richard had a son. His name is Adrian." Arabella remembered the name from the family tree Elena had once shown her when she was younger. "Where is he?" "He's been away from Italy for several years." "Is he dead?" "No." "Then why isn't he inheriting the organisation?" Dominic adjusted his glasses. "Your father had his reasons." Arabella laughed without humour. "Of course he did." She walked towards the desk and placed her father's letter on it. "He mentioned Alessio Vescari. He also told me not to let anyone put me on the throne. Can you explain what that means?" Dominic looked at the letter but didn't touch it. "Your father and the Vescari family had a complicated relationship." "That's an understatement." "Years ago, they entered into an agreement concerning their territories and business interests. Your father believed that agreement would keep the peace between the two families." "And did it?" "For a while." "What happened?" Dominic hesitated. "Your father broke one of its conditions." Arabella folded her arms. "What condition?" "That is something I would rather not discuss until all the relevant documents have been reviewed." She stared at him. "You're beginning to sound like a broken record." "Arabella, I understand your frustration, but you have inherited a very complicated position. There are things you need to learn before making decisions." "Then teach me." Dominic looked at her for a long moment. "Your father had a council. Seven men who managed different aspects of the organisation. They will expect to meet with you tomorrow." "Seven men?" "Yes." "And they know I'm supposed to take over?" "They were informed of your father's decision." Arabella shook her head. "So I'm expected to walk into a room full of strangers and somehow convince them that I can run an organisation I didn't even know existed?" "That would be the general idea." She stared at him. "Wonderful." By eleven, Arabella had learned three things. Her father owned considerably more than the properties listed in his will. His organisation had interests in several European countries. And almost everyone who worked for him seemed to know something about her that she didn't know herself. She was going through a folder in the study when her phone rang. Margaret. Arabella answered immediately. "Finally. I was beginning to think you'd forgotten I existed." "Don't be dramatic. I called you yesterday." "You also promised to call me back." Margaret laughed. "How is everything?" Arabella looked at the documents scattered across the desk. "Strange." "Have you decided when you're coming home?" "That's actually what I wanted to discuss." She hesitated. "Something happened at the funeral." "What?" "Apparently, my father was involved in the mafia." There was silence. Arabella pulled the phone away to check whether the call had disconnected. "Margaret?" "I'm here." "You don't sound surprised." "I don't know what to say." Arabella's stomach tightened. "What do you mean?" "Your father was a complicated man, Arabella. Your mother tried very hard to keep certain things away from you." Arabella sat upright. "Wait. You knew?" "I knew there were things she didn't want you involved in." "Why didn't anyone tell me?" "Because your mother wanted you to have a normal life." Arabella rubbed her forehead. "Did she know about the organisation?" Margaret didn't answer. "Margaret, please." "Yes." The single word landed harder than Arabella expected. "Did she know who Alessio Vescari was?" Another pause. "Your mother knew the Vescari family." Arabella's fingers tightened around the phone. "How?" "I think you should speak to her." Arabella went completely still. "Speak to her?" "There's something I haven't told you. Your mother didn't die, Arabella." For several seconds, she couldn't find her voice. "What?" "She is alive." Arabella stood so quickly that the chair scraped against the floor. "Where is she?" "I don't know exactly where she is now, but the last time I heard from her, she was living in France." Arabella pressed a hand against her forehead. All these years, she had believed her mother had died shortly after leaving Italy. Her father had told her there had been an accident, and Margaret had never corrected him. "You knew she was alive all this time?" "I'm sorry." "How could you keep that from me?" "I made a promise." "To whom?" Margaret's voice dropped. "Your mother." Arabella ended the call. She couldn't listen to another explanation. Her mother was alive. Somewhere in the world, the woman she had spent years mourning was living her life while Arabella visited a grave that wasn't hers. She returned to the desk and began searching through the documents. If her father had hidden the truth, there had to be something somewhere. At precisely three in the afternoon, Dominic returned with a black folder. "The council meeting has been moved to tomorrow morning." Arabella didn't look up. "Good." "There is another matter." "Naturally." "Someone has requested a private meeting with you." She stopped turning the pages. "Who?" "Alessio Vescari." For a moment, she thought she had misheard. Then she slowly raised her head. "The man from my father's letter?" "Yes." "And he wants to meet me?" "Tonight." Arabella closed the folder. "Tell him no." "Arabella..." "No. I haven't even figured out what my father left me, and already people are arranging meetings as though I belong to them." "He isn't someone you should dismiss casually." "Then he can learn that I don't appreciate being summoned." Dominic looked uncomfortable. "He's not accustomed to being refused." "That's unfortunate." She returned to the documents. Dominic remained where he was. "There's something else you should know. Mr Vescari has a considerable interest in the organisation your father left behind." "How considerable?" "He controls the largest independent mafia territory in southern Italy." Arabella leaned back. "And what does he want from me?" "That is precisely why he wants to meet." She considered it. "Fine." Dominic looked surprised. "You're agreeing?" "I'm agreeing to meet him. Not to whatever arrangement he has in mind." "Understood." "One condition." "Yes?" "I choose the location, and I bring my own security." Dominic nodded. "I'll inform him." The meeting was scheduled for eight in the evening at a private restaurant in the city. Arabella spent the afternoon trying to decide whether she was making a terrible mistake. She eventually settled on a black dress that reached just below her knees. It was simple, elegant and comfortable enough for her to leave quickly if necessary. Matteo was assigned to accompany her. When they arrived, the restaurant was almost empty. A waiter led them to a private dining room at the back. Arabella glanced at her watch. Eight fifteen. "He's late," she muttered. Matteo stood near the entrance. "Perhaps he's testing your patience." "Then he's doing an excellent job." She was about to ask for the waiter when the door opened. The man who entered wasn't what she had expected. He was tall, broad-shouldered and dressed in a charcoal suit that fitted him perfectly. His dark hair was neatly styled, and his expression was unreadable. He didn't look particularly old, perhaps somewhere in his early thirties. But there was something unsettling about the confidence with which he entered the room. He glanced at Matteo before looking directly at Arabella. "Miss Hayes." His voice was calm. Arabella remained seated. "Mr Vescari." He pulled out the chair opposite her. "Thank you for agreeing to meet." "I didn't realise I had much of a choice." A faint smile touched his mouth. "You always have a choice." "That's reassuring." He sat down. For a moment, neither spoke. Arabella studied him openly. This was the man her father had warned her about, the man everyone in the house seemed afraid to mention. She had expected someone older, perhaps someone who resembled the men who had attended her father's funeral. Instead, Alessio Vescari looked like a man who could walk into any room and have everyone move out of his way without asking. He reached for the glass of water in front of him. "How are you finding your inheritance?" "Expensive. Confusing. And considerably more dangerous than I expected." "Your father was good at creating complicated situations." "Did you know him?" "Very well." "Then you probably know why he left everything to me." Alessio placed his glass down. "I know why he chose you." Arabella leaned forward. "Then tell me." "Your father believed you were the only person who could keep the Hayes organisation intact." She frowned. "Why?" "Because everyone else wanted to own it." "And I don't?" "Not yet." She almost laughed. "You don't know anything about me." "Perhaps not. But I know your father." Arabella's expression hardened. "Then you should know that he and I weren't close." "I know." "Did you also know he spent eight years pretending I didn't exist?" Alessio held her gaze. "Yes." Something about his answer irritated her. "Then why are you here?" He reached into his jacket and placed a document on the table. Arabella looked down. It was a formal agreement. "What is this?" "An arrangement your father and I discussed before his death." She scanned the first page. Her expression changed. It was an agreement between the Hayes and Vescari families concerning the control of several territories, financial interests and joint operations. And at the bottom was a section she hadn't expected. A proposed marriage alliance. Arabella slowly looked up. "Are you serious?" Alessio didn't blink. "Entirely." "You want to marry me?" "I want to discuss an arrangement that would benefit both families." "That's a very creative way of asking someone to marry you." His expression remained calm. "Your father believed it was the most practical solution." "My father is dead." "I'm aware." "Then whatever he discussed with you died with him." Alessio leaned back. "You haven't read the entire agreement." "I've read enough." "Your father's organisation is currently vulnerable. Several people are already questioning your position. The council won't accept you simply because your name appears in a will." "And you think marrying you will solve that?" "I think it will prevent certain people from making decisions that could cost you your life." Arabella stared at him. There it was. The threat hidden beneath the offer. She pushed the document towards him. "I'm not marrying a man I've met for less than ten minutes." Alessio glanced at the agreement. "Then I suppose we'll have to find another solution." "Good." He stood, buttoning his jacket. But before leaving, he looked at her again. "One piece of advice, Arabella. Don't trust the council." "Why?" "Because the man who has been preparing to take your father's place has been sitting beside you at every family dinner." Her stomach tightened. "Who?" Alessio paused at the door. "Ask your cousin Adrian why he returned to Italy three days before your father's death." Arabella felt the blood drain from her face. Adrian wasn't supposed to be in Italy. Dominic had told her he was away. She opened her mouth to question him, but Alessio was already leaving. Then he stopped and glanced over his shoulder. "And Arabella?" She looked at him. "Your father didn't leave you that empire because he loved you." His eyes held hers. "He left it because he knew someone was coming for it. And he knew you would be the only person foolish enough to walk straight into the trap." The door closed. Arabella remained seated, staring at the empty doorway. For the first time, she wondered whether accepting her father's inheritance had been the biggest mistake of her life. Her phone vibrated. A message from an unknown number appeared. Stop asking questions about Adrian. Your father died because he did. Arabella read it twice. Then another message arrived. This one contained a photograph. It showed her father sitting inside his study, the same room where she had found the photograph of Alessio. Standing behind him was Adrian. The timestamp beneath the picture was dated three days before William Hayes died. And written across the bottom was a chilling message. Your cousin was the last person to see your father alive.