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Why was he here? Wasn't he supposed to be back in Manhattan?

The man outside seemed to sense the faint light shift behind the peephole. He didn't ring again. Instead, he raised those long fingers and knocked twice on the thin wooden door.

"Ruby."

His voice came through the door—low, hoarse, startlingly clear in the empty dark hallway. "Open up. I know you're not asleep."

I bit my pale lip, hand on the chain lock. Reason screamed at me to pretend I wasn't home, but my body moved like something invisible was pulling me. Click—I turned the deadbolt.

I cracked the door open, chain still on, staring at him warily. "Mr. Moretti, what the hell do you want?"

Marcelo looked at my swollen eyes and the tear tracks down my face. Those gray-green eyes darkened instantly.

He didn't answer directly. Just glanced down at the chain across the doorframe, mouth twisting in faint self-mockery. "You're gonna talk to me through a wire that wouldn't stop a dog?"

"Say what you need to say here." I gripped the doorknob, voice unsteady.

Marcelo took a deep breath, tamping down the irritation between his brows. He lifted his hand and passed the black velvet box through the gap above the chain.

"Take it."

I hesitated. Didn't reach for it. "What is it?"

"That fabric." Simple. Blunt. Eyes locked on my face. "The vintage hand-woven brocade you liked at the Paris exhibition. The one I ordered. The old tailor rushed to make it in your size."

My fingers trembled.

That was a memory fragment from those days we lived together in Paris.

"I can't accept something this expensive." I avoided his gaze, pushing the box back. "And I already made myself clear tonight—I want to go home. I want to rest."

I grabbed the doorframe, about to slam it shut.

But the door only closed halfway before a leather shoe jammed into the gap!

Then Marcelo pressed his palm against the door's edge, arm muscles tensing. He forced the wooden door open hand-width wider. The security chain stretched taut across the frame, groaning metallically.

"Marcelo!" I yelped.

He didn't rip the chain off. Just braced one hand on the doorframe, tall frame leaning forward, looming over me through that narrow opening.

Those gray-green eyes held no trace of the brutality from the restaurant. Instead—almost desperate frustration and stubborn determination.

"I know what happened tonight scared you." His voice was rough, chest heaving under the thin sweater. "Ruby, I don't know how to explain my world to you because it is complicated. It is dangerous. But I can promise you this—I will protect you. I won't let you get dragged into it."

"How can you promise that?" My tears fell again. "They can just walk right up and humiliate me in front of you!"

Cold hallway air blew in behind him, ruffling his hair.

"That was my mistake." He stepped forward, gray-green eyes drilling into me. "But it won't happen again. I will keep you safe, Ruby. I swear it."

I shook my head.

"It's not just about safety... I'm afraid... afraid my mom is right. Afraid I'm not good enough for you. Afraid I'm just some toy you'll get bored of. Afraid one day you'll abandon me the way my father abandoned my mother..."

"That's all bullshit." His voice rumbled like thunder. "Ruby, listen to me. I don't care about your background. I don't care about your body. I don't care about any of that shit. I care about you. You, Ruby Caldwell."

He leaned forward another half-step, gaze burning through me.