Chapter Five: Alessandro

The city never slept, but I sometimes wished it would.

At least then I could think without distraction.

The glass walls of my penthouse stretched like a wound across the skyline. From here, Milan looked peaceful—distant lights blinking like dying stars, streets whispering secrets too small for anyone else to hear.

But I heard them.

I always did.

I lit a cigarette, not because I needed it, but because it gave my hands something to do while my mind worked. The smoke curled in the silence like a ghost refusing to leave.

And still—her face wouldn't fade.

Isabella.

I didn’t trust her. Not for a second.

She was too poised. Too perfect. Every detail crafted like a story meant to be believed. Women like that didn’t appear by accident—not in my world. Not in my home.

But something about her… didn’t match the file.

That was the problem.

There was no file.

I’d had Matteo dig through every guest name tonight—every connection, every cousin of a cousin of a cousin. She wasn’t on the official list. Someone had slipped her in.

That wasn’t an oversight.

That was intentional.

There was a knock at the door behind me.

I didn’t turn around. “Come in.”

Luca stepped in, jacket off, sleeves rolled up. He didn’t look like the second-oldest son of Milan’s most feared family tonight. He looked like what he used to be—my little brother. Restless. Sharp. A little too quick to pull the trigger.

“She’s already got you pacing, doesn’t she?” he said.

I didn’t answer.

He poured himself a drink and dropped onto the leather armchair like he belonged there. He did, of course. This wasn’t the kind of family where we locked each other out. Not unless we had a reason.

“You didn’t flirt with her,” he said after a beat. “That’s how I knew something was wrong. Usually if a woman’s beautiful, you charm her. But with her? You looked at her like a problem.”

“She is one,” I said quietly.

Luca raised an eyebrow. “You think she’s a plant?”

“I know she is.”

“By who?”

“That’s what I don’t know yet.”

He leaned forward, setting his glass down. “Want me to follow her?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because if you follow her, she’ll know. And if she knows, she’ll disappear. I want to know why she came before she runs.”

Luca gave a low whistle. “She must be special.”

“She’s dangerous,” I corrected. “But careful. Doesn’t drink. Doesn’t flirt. Doesn’t ask too many questions. She’s playing a role, and she’s good at it.”

He smirked. “You almost sound impressed.”

That made me look at him.

“I don’t get impressed, Luca. I get suspicious. There’s a difference.”

He lifted his hands in surrender. “Fine. You want me to keep Matteo out of it?”

“For now.”

“And what if she is working for someone? What if she’s trying to get close to you?”

“Then she’ll succeed.”

Luca blinked. “Wait—what?”

I crushed the cigarette in the ashtray.

“If she wants to get close,” I said slowly, “I’ll let her. Because when people get close… they slip. They reveal things.”

“And when she does?”

“Then she’ll learn the cost of walking into the lion’s den.”