Not Dante’s voice.
Alessandro’s.
“Open the door, Isabella.”
My pulse spikes. “Miles, listen to me. I need screenshots—everything. The email, the headers, the attachments. I need the IP address it came from. Send it to my backup.”
“Isa, are you—what’s happening? Are you in danger?”
I can hear the panic rising in his voice, but the pounding is louder now, the sound of something heavy slamming into the lock.
“I’m fine,” I lie, voice shaking. “Just do it. Please.”
The next hit splinters the wood.
“Miles, send it!”
“Open the damn door,” he snarls, slamming his hand against the bathroom door. “Now!”
He’s still shouting something when I hang up, stuffing the phone against my chest just as the lock gives way and the door bursts open.
Alessandro fills the doorway, eyes like ice and fire all at once.
I swallow hard, chest rising and falling too fast. The sound of my heartbeat drowns out everything else.
Before I can take a breath, his hand wraps around my arm.
“Let me go!” I twist, trying to pull free, but his grip only tightens.
“Who were you talking to?”
“No one!”
“Bullshit.”
“Let me go! You’re hurting me!”
“Not as much as you’re hurting him,” Alessandro spits, dragging me down the hallway, his fingers biting into my skin.
I stumble, nearly falling as he shoves me through the doorway of Dante’s office.
Dante’s behind the desk, half in shadow, his jaw clenched, eyes colder than I’ve ever seen them.
All that warmth that lived there before—the man who brushed Sofia’s hair, who whispered principessa like a prayer, who watched me sleep last night—it’s gone.
Alessandro releases me with a rough shove, sending me stumbling forward. He tosses my phone onto the desk like evidence at a crime scene.
“She was on the phone with someone,” he says tightly. “Still trying to cover her tracks. You can’t trust her. We need to take her to the warehouse.”
My heart stops.
Warehouse.
I know what that means.
My throat goes dry, but I force myself to look up.
Dante’s gaze finds mine.
