I didn't make it far before the sound reached me, the faint, unmistakable scrape of boots on marble. Someone was coming.
My stomach clenched. The corridor outside the hidden passage was too narrow, too exposed. I darted back toward the nearest doorway, a linen room, its door slightly ajar and slipped inside just as the shadow of a man stretched across the hall.
Through the thin crack, I saw him: one of Dante's guards, tall and silent, his suit immaculate but his eyes sharp, restless. He paused right in front of the tapestry I'd just stepped through. His hand brushed against it, the fabric shifting under his fingers.
My pulse thundered in my ears. If he pulled it aside...
He didn't. Instead, he turned, his gaze sweeping the corridor. Then his voice came, low and clipped, speaking into the radio clipped to his jacket.
"East wing secure. No sign of activity."
A pause. Static. Then: "Copy that. Boss said to keep this floor clear."
Boss.
Dante.
I swallowed hard, forcing myself to breathe silently. The guard lingered another moment before moving on, his footsteps fading down the hall.
I stayed frozen for a count of ten, then twenty, until the silence pressed too tightly around me. Slowly, I stepped out of the linen room, closing the door behind me with a careful click. My hands were trembling.
I turned down the next corridor, trying to look casual, as if I belonged here. As if I hadn't just been prying open Dante's secrets.
Halfway to the main hall, I nearly collided with another figure.
"Signora Bellanti!" It was Rosa, one of the older housekeepers, her silver hair tied in a neat bun, her arms full of freshly folded linens. "You startled me."
My laugh came too quickly, too thin. "I'm sorry. I was just… walking. I got turned around."
Her brows knit together. "In this wing?"
I gave her my best imitation of innocence. "Is there something wrong with that?"
Rosa hesitated. Her gaze flicked, almost imperceptibly, toward the far end of the corridor, toward that door. Then she forced a smile. "No, of course not. But Signor Bellanti prefers that guests stay closer to the main floor."
"Guests?" I echoed, my tone sharper than I meant.
She blinked, startled. "Forgive me, signora. I meant..."
I waved it off before she could finish, mustering a polite smile. "No harm done."
She dipped her head, murmured something in Italian, and hurried away.
When she turned the corner, I let out a slow, shaky breath.
Not even the staff called me by my name. Guest. Signora. Wife. Never Isabella.
My hand brushed against the small of my back where my pulse still raced from the near miss. Every instinct told me to stop, to let it go, to stay safely ignorant. But beneath the fear, something else stirred.
The same stubborn spark that made me defy him at that dinner table.
If Dante wanted to keep secrets, I was going to uncover every single one.
The sky had begun to darken when I returned to our room, the villa bathed in the faint amber of a dying sunset. I hadn't realized how long I'd been wandering until I saw the clock on the mantle, almost seven. Dante had left that morning without a word about when he'd be back, but somehow, I could feel him drawing closer.
The air itself shifted when he was near, as though the walls recognized him before I did.
I busied myself at the vanity, running a brush through my hair, trying to ignore the tremor still humming beneath my skin. But my reflection betrayed me, flushed cheeks, wild eyes, guilt lurking just beneath the surface.
The sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway. Heavy, measured. Familiar.
The door opened without a knock.
Dante stepped inside, jacket off, sleeves rolled to his elbows. His tie hung loose around his neck, the top buttons of his shirt undone. He looked dangerous like that, too composed, too controlled, as if every piece of him was a weapon sharpened for purpose.
His gaze found me instantly. And lingered.
"You've been busy," he said, his voice low, smooth as glass but carrying an edge that made my stomach tighten.
I forced a smile. "I took a walk."
His head tilted slightly. "A walk?" He closed the door behind him, slow and deliberate. "In the east wing."
My pulse skipped. "Is there a law against that too?"
He didn't answer. He crossed the room instead, his movements quiet, predatory. Every step he took made the air feel smaller.
When he reached me, he didn't touch me, not yet. He just leaned down slightly, eyes searching my face. "You've been somewhere you shouldn't."
"I was bored," I said, holding his gaze even though my voice came out softer than I meant. "You leave me here for hours. What do you expect me to do? Sit still and stare at the walls?"
His jaw flexed. "Yes. If that's what keeps you safe."
"Safe?" I almost laughed. "From what? The servants? The shadows? Or is it your secrets you're afraid of me finding?"
The words slipped out before I could stop them.
For a heartbeat, silence. Then his hand came up, catching my chin between his fingers, firm, not cruel, but commanding. His eyes burned into mine, colder than I'd ever seen them.
"What did you see?"
I swallowed hard. "Nothing."
"Lies," he said softly. "You're shaking."
"I'm cold."
His thumb brushed across my jaw, his expression unreadable. "No, you're frightened. But not of me. You should be."
That last part came out quiet, not as a threat, but as a warning, almost regretful.
I tried to pull away. "Then maybe you shouldn't make it so easy to be afraid of you."
His grip loosened, but he didn't let go. For a long moment, we just stood there, the space between us charged, my defiance meeting his control like flint and steel.
Finally, he released me. "Stay out of that wing."
"Or what?"
He gave a small, humorless smile. "You don't want to find out."
And then he turned, walking to the window, staring out at the night beyond the glass. His reflection in the pane was all sharp lines and shadow.
For a second, I thought the conversation was over. Then he said, almost to himself,
"You keep looking for the monster in me, bella. One day you'll find him. And you won't like what you see."
I stood there, heart hammering, fingers still tingling where he'd touched me.
And I realized, with a mix of dread and fascination, that I already had.