Episode 3 – His Fiancée

The gates of the Russo estate opened like the entrance to another world.

Elena’s breath caught as the car rolled forward.

The mansion stood above Lake Como, vast and pale under the afternoon sun, surrounded by manicured gardens and armed guards who lowered their heads the moment they saw the vehicle.

Not at Alessandro.

At her.

Her fingers tightened in her lap.

“They’re not looking at me,” she whispered.

Beside her, Alessandro didn’t move. “They are.”

His voice was calm. Certain.

“They’re acknowledging their future queen.”

Her heart stumbled at the word.

Queen.

She turned to him. “Don’t call me that.”

His dark eyes shifted to her, slow and possessive.

“You’ll get used to it.”

The car stopped.

Before she could reach for the handle, Alessandro stepped out and came around to her side. When he opened the door, his hand extended toward her — not as a request.

As a right.

The entire staff stood lined along the entrance.

Waiting.

Watching.

The moment her fingers touched his, a murmur of respectful greetings filled the air.

“Signora Russo.”

Heat rushed to her face. “We’re not married yet—”

“You will be,” Alessandro said smoothly, guiding her up the steps. “So they’ll address you correctly.”

Inside, the mansion was breathtaking — marble floors, crystal chandeliers, tall windows overlooking the endless blue of the lake.

But Elena barely saw any of it.

She felt eyes everywhere.

And every single one dropped the moment Alessandro looked their way.

“Your room is next to mine,” he said.

Her steps faltered. “Next to yours?”

“For your safety.”

The words sounded formal.

The tone was not.

They stopped in front of a large door. When it opened, she gasped.

The room was filled with soft white and gold — fresh roses, silk curtains, a balcony facing the lake.

It looked like something from a dream.

“You did this?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

His gaze moved over her face, unreadable and intense.

“Because you’re here.”

Her heart began to race again — the same dangerous rhythm he always caused.

Before she could answer, a voice came from behind them.

“Capo, the tailor is here for Signorina—”

The man stopped mid-sentence.

Because Alessandro had turned.

The temperature in the room dropped.

“You don’t look at her,” Alessandro said quietly.

The man immediately lowered his gaze. “Mi dispiace.”

“You don’t speak to her unless she speaks first.”

“Yes, Capo.”

“You don’t even breathe in her direction unless I’m present.”

Elena’s eyes widened. “Alessandro, that’s not—”

“It is,” he cut in, his voice still calm but laced with steel.

The man disappeared in seconds.

She turned to him, shocked. “You can’t control everyone!”

“I can,” he replied simply.

“I’m not a possession.”

His eyes darkened.

In two steps he was in front of her.

“You wear my ring in a week,” he said, his voice dropping. “You live under my roof. You carry my name.”

His hand lifted, stopping just short of her waist — like he was holding himself back.

“You are the most important thing in my world.”

Her breath trembled.

“That’s not the same as owning me.”

A pause.

Then, softly — dangerously —

“It’s worse.”

Her pulse thundered in her ears.

“Why are you like this with me?” she whispered.

His jaw tightened, control slipping for the first time since she’d met him.

“Because I don’t like the way other men look at you.”

No one had ever said something like that to her.

So raw.

So jealous.

So honest.

“I didn’t even notice,” she admitted.

“I did.”

His hand finally touched her waist.

Warm.

Heavy.

Claiming.

Her entire body reacted instantly.

“Alessandro…” she breathed.

His gaze dropped to her lips.

The world disappeared.

Slowly — giving her time to pull away — he leaned closer.

She didn’t.

Her hands curled into his jacket, her heart racing so fast she thought she might faint.

This was wrong.

Too fast.

Too much.

But when his other hand came up to cradle her face, gentle in a way that didn’t match the ruthless man everyone feared, her eyes fluttered closed.

His breath brushed her mouth.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured.

She couldn’t.

She didn’t want to.

Just as his lips were about to touch hers—

A knock shattered the moment.

“Capo—urgent call from Rome.”

Alessandro froze.

For a second she saw it — the war inside him.

Duty.

Power.

Her.

He stepped back slowly, his hand sliding away from her like it physically hurt him to let go.

His voice returned to ice.

“I’m coming.”

At the door he stopped, turning to her once more.

“Unpack,” he said. “Everything you need will be brought to you.”

And then, softer —

“Don’t leave this floor unless I’m with you.”

Her heart squeezed.

“Is that an order?”

“Yes.”

A pause.

“Or a request,” he added quietly.

When he left, the room felt empty.

But Elena’s lips still burned from a kiss that hadn’t happened.

And for the first time, she understood the truth:

She wasn’t afraid of Alessandro Russo.

She was falling for him.

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