Page 6 of Read This Before the Villain falls in Love with You

I haven't slept a full night in twenty years, not since my parents were murdered and the weight of the Brotherhood landed on my shoulders. I don't have room for a wild card, especially not a sharp-tongued British CEO who negotiates multi-million dollar crises before noon.

"What do we do with her?" Adrian asks, stepping closer to the desk with his arms crossed behind his back.

"Lock her in the east wing," I command , shutting the file folder. "Post two armed guards outside the door. No outside calls, no ransom demands, and no contact with anyone until I assess what kind of threat just entered my house."

"What about Bellini's assistant?" Adrian asks, glancing toward the courtyard window.

"Track her quietly before nightfall," I instruct, fixing Matteo with a cold glare. "You will supervise the team yourself. If you bring me another corporate executive by mistake, I will let Nonna handle your discipline."

Matteo swallows hard, the color draining from his face as he remembers our grandmother's temper.

"For what it is worth," Matteo adds, dusting off his jacket lapel with an amused smirk, "she promised to strip our family of every asset we own, starting with my knockoff coat, and feed zip ties down my throat. Then she claimed she had four kickboxing moves left to show us. You definitely won't find her boring."

I push up from my chair. "I do not want interesting. I want the Bellinis eliminated and my family protected. Interesting gets people killed."

"Understood," Matteo replies quickly, backing toward the hallway. "Boring is good. Interesting is lethal."

Adrian rolls up the harbor map, locks it inside the metal credenza, and heads out the double doors behind Matteo without another word.

Then it's just me and the folder.

I flip the folder open again. A glossy headshot from a British trade magazine sits clipped inside the tab. She stands on the steps of a London office tower, tailored wool coat sharp at the shoulders, dark hair pinned without a single stray lock in the wind. Her chin tilts slightly upward. In the glossy print, her eyes catch the flash direct, cool, unblinking while the hard line of her mouth gives away nothing. Below the picture, clipped headlines track two years of her firm cleaning up board-level train wrecks: an airline cover-up handled overnight, a tech CEO's embezzlement settled before trading opened. Not a single apology in print. Just results, invoices with seven-figure fees, and silence.

I close the folder. Downstairs, heavy footsteps echo through the corridor as the guards lead her to the east wing. A woman who has no idea what my family does just stepped straight into the crossfire of a mafia war.

What the hell do I do with you now, Nora Blake?

Chapter 2

LUCA

I pull my coat off the second I step inside the foyer. It is past two in the morning, and the scent of rain, motor exhaust, and fresh copper hangs heavy in the drafty air. The heavy iron doors slam shut behind me. Ten minutes ago, my men dragged a kicking captive through these gates. Now, Sal sits slumped against the bottom stair with a bloody rag pressed to his crushed nose, while Franco grips his ruined knee on the floor and curses under his breath.

Matteo stands in the middle of the room, shoulders squared despite the blood smeared across his collar. The skin under his left eye is already swollen into a dark purple lump under the chandelier light. He touches his split lip with his cuff, wincing as he takes a cautious step toward me.

"Don't start," Matteo mutters, holding up a palm before I can even open my mouth.

"I haven't said a word," I tell him, tossing my wet coat onto the back of an armchair.

"Your eyebrows are doing the shouting for you," he grumbles, dabbing at his mouth with the back of his hand.

Then I see her.

So this is the crisis manager.

She stands with her weight balanced evenly over both feet, eyes tracking every person in the hall with cool, sharp precision. There is no tremor in her fingers, no frantic glance toward the ceiling, just a woman assessing the structural weak points of the room.

She turns her head toward me. "You're late." Her British accent cuts cleanly through the damp air.

I stop near the archway, looking over the mess. "I had business down by the water. Looks like you started a war right here instead."

She crosses her arms over her chest. "You hire complete idiots."

Nora Elizabeth Blake paces by the far archway. She is not tied up in the west wing. Broken plastic zip ties lie on the floor behind her. Her blonde hair is messy around her shoulders, and her blazer sleeve is torn to the elbow. Her jaw is tight as she looks at Sal, the tall windows, and the side exit, counting steps in silence.

Matteo points right at his cheek. "She hit me. She bit me right through my jacket, Luca. Broke the skin. Then she kicked Sal so hard between the legs he went blind for a minute."

"I can still barely see," Sal groans from the stairs, wiping his nose.