We are not running."
Nadia's voice cut through Alessandro's panic like a blade. She stood in her bedroom, the packed bag he had demanded sitting untouched on her bed.
"You do not understand," Alessandro hissed, closing the door behind him. "If Kamali knows you are alive…."
"Then my plan moves faster than expected." Nadia's hands were steady as she removed the simple gray dress, replacing it with black jeans and a fitted top. Clothes she could move in. Fight in if necessary.
Alessandro grabbed her shoulders. "This is not a game, Nadia. That poison was a message. Someone is playing a dangerous game, and you are caught in the middle."
"I have been in the middle since I was seven years old." She shrugged off his grip. "The only difference is now I can fight back."
A knock at the door froze them both.
"Nadia?" Roman's voice carried through the wood. "I need to speak with you."
Alessandro's face went white. "Do not open that door."
But Nadia was already moving. She cracked the door open, blocking Roman's view of the room. "This is not a good time."
Roman's eyes narrowed. "The woman who was poisoned. She is asking for you."
Nadia's heart stuttered. "What? Why would she ask for me?"
"That is what I intend to find out." Roman pushed the door wider, his gaze sweeping the room and landing on the packed bag. "Going somewhere?"
"I…"
"She is visiting family," Alessandro interrupted, appearing behind Nadia. "It was planned before tonight."
"How convenient." Roman's attention shifted between them. "A woman nearly dies at your party, and your ward suddenly has travel plans."
"Are you accusing us of something?" Nadia's voice came out harder than intended.
Roman studied her face, that unsettling intensity back in his eyes. "I am trying to understand why a woman who works for Leo Kamali would ask for Alessandro Vitale's ward by name."
The words hit like a physical blow. Nadia fought to keep her expression neutral. "I have never met her."
"Then we should correct that, should we not?" Roman extended his hand. "She is in the guest room. Under guard. Come."
It was not a request.
Nadia exchanged a glance with Alessandro. His slight nod told her what she already knew. Refusing would raise more suspicion than agreeing.
She followed Roman down the hallway, acutely aware of his presence beside her. That strange pull had not faded. If anything, it had grown stronger, like a thread connecting them that tightened with every step.
"You are different from what I expected," Roman said quietly.
"You do not know me."
"Not yet." He glanced at her. "But I will."
Two guards stood outside the guest room. They stepped aside as Roman approached, opening the door to reveal the woman lying on the bed. Her face was pale, lips still tinged blue from the poison, but her eyes were sharp and alert.
And fixed directly on Nadia.
"You," the woman breathed. "You look just like her."
Nadia's blood turned to ice. "Like who?"
"Your mother. Isabelle Ferragamo."
The room spun. Roman's hand shot out, steadying Nadia before she could stumble. His touch burned through her shirt.
"What did you just say?" Roman's voice was deadly quiet.
The woman's laugh was bitter. "You do not know? The great Roman DeLuca, and you have been chasing a ghost." She turned her gaze back to Nadia. "Or should I say, the last Ferragamo."
Roman's grip on Nadia's arm tightened. "Explain. Now."
"Kamali knows," the woman rasped. "He has always known she survived. He has been watching, waiting to see what Alessandro would do with her. And tonight, he sent me to deliver a message."
"The poison," Nadia said, finding her voice. "You poisoned yourself."
"It was the only way to get close to you without arousing suspicion." The woman coughed, blood speckling her lips. "The antidote I took was supposed to work faster. Kamali's chemist miscalculated."
Roman released Nadia and moved to the woman's bedside. "What is the message?"
"That the debt is not paid. That blood demands blood. And that the daughter will pay for the father's sins." The woman's eyes rolled back. "He is coming for her. He has always been coming."
"When?" Roman demanded.
But the woman's breathing had gone shallow, her body convulsing. Roman shouted for the guards, for a doctor, but Nadia knew it was too late. She had seen death enough times to recognize it.
The woman's final breath rattled in her chest.
Silence fell over the room.
Then Roman turned to Nadia, and the look in his eyes made her step back.
"You are a Ferragamo," he said softly. Dangerously. "The family my father helped destroy."
"Roman…"
"Do not." He moved toward her, each step measured. "Do not lie to me again. You came into my life tonight, and suddenly there is poison and death and threats. You have been using me."
"I have not been using anyone," Nadia shot back, anger flaring through her fear. "I did not ask you to notice me. I did not ask for any of this."
"But you were planning something." Roman stopped inches from her. "What was it? Seduce me? Get close to my family? Use me to get to Kamali?"
The accusation stung because it was partially true. "You do not understand…."
"Then make me understand." His hand caught her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. "Tell me the truth, Nadia. All of it."
She should have been afraid. Should have been planning her escape. But standing this close to him, feeling the heat of his body and the intensity of his focus, all she felt was that damned pull growing stronger.
"My family was murdered," she said quietly. "I watched them die. I was seven years old, and I swore I would make the people responsible pay."
"And you thought I was responsible."
"Your father gave the order that let Kamali strike."
Roman's jaw tightened. "My father makes many orders. Most of them I do not agree with."
"But you benefit from them."
"As you would have benefited from your father's empire, had he lived." Roman's thumb brushed her jawline, the gesture at odds with the anger in his voice. "We are both our fathers' children, Nadia. Whether we want to be or not."
The truth of it hit her hard.
Before she could respond, the window exploded inward.
Glass shattered across the room as a figure dressed in black dropped through. Roman shoved Nadia behind him, but she was already moving. Fifteen years of training took over.
The attacker lunged. Nadia ducked under Roman's protective arm and met the assault head-on. Her fist connected with the attacker's jaw. The figure stumbled but recovered quickly, pulling a knife.
"Nadia, get back!" Roman shouted.
But she was done hiding. Done pretending to be weak.
The knife slashed toward her. Nadia caught the attacker's wrist, twisted, and drove her knee into their stomach. The figure grunted and grabbed her hair, yanking her head back.
Pain exploded across her scalp. Nadia's vision blurred, but she drove her elbow backward, felt it connect with ribs. The grip on her hair loosened.
She spun, ready to strike again, but Roman was already there. He caught the attacker by the throat and slammed them against the wall. The knife clattered to the floor.
"Who sent you?" Roman demanded.
The attacker smiled behind their mask. Then bit down hard.
"No!" Nadia lunged forward, but it was too late. Foam appeared at the corners of the attacker's mouth. Poison. Another suicide.
Roman released the body as it went limp, his expression murderous. He turned to Nadia, taking in her defensive stance, the cold efficiency in her eyes.
"You have been trained," he said.
It was not a question.
Before Nadia could answer, Alessandro burst into the room, guards behind him. He took in the scene, the two bodies, the broken window, and his face went ashen.
"They found us," he whispered.
"Not just found," Roman said, his eyes never leaving Nadia. "They have been watching. Which means everyone in this house is compromised."
Footsteps thundered through the estate. Shouts rose from downstairs. Then gunfire.
"They are inside," one of the guards yelled.
Alessandro grabbed Nadia's arm. "There is a safe room in the basement. We can…."
"No." Nadia pulled free. "I am done hiding."
She bent and picked up the fallen knife. The weight felt right in her hand.
Roman watched her, something shifting in his expression. Not quite trust. Not quite respect. But close.
"If we are doing this," he said, pulling a gun from his ankle holster, "we do it together."
"Why would you help me?" Nadia demanded. "I am your enemy."
Roman's smile was sharp and dangerous. "Because, little Ferragamo, you are also my mate. And I protect what is mine."
The declaration hung in the air between them.
Then the door burst open, and all hell broke loose.