unbeaten Italian coast. Elena sat in the window seat, looking out at the inky ocean far below, her mind drowning in

An exercise in power. A reminder to their European competitors that the DeLuca e

still rang

nd, but let's not for

her to a life she couldn't break free from. Now, though, in the company of th

y told another story. The manner with which his fingers drummed against the armrest, the t

al in

o black SUVs awaited them, drivers already standing at attention. Dante's hand touched the small of Elena's b

had been six years ag

an upscale restaurant overlooking the bay, a refined venue for subtle threats and negotiations

e her-Dante-was

undertones. Elena was gracious, smiling with practiced ease when required, nodding on cue. Yet

one of the Italian men-Giorgio Rossi-

thought, his eyes darting toward Ele

with inference.

the same, but the tensio

nce makes a difference," Dante replied calml

"Of course. Just an observation. A woman as stunni

e way men sized her up like a commodity. Luca encouraged it-he enjoyed fla

e was di

e precision and leaned forward just

our words car

o long of

is hands in mock surrender. "No

een sent. The rest of the dinner passed w

t Shouldn't

fs of the Amalfi Coast. A fortress disgui

skin as she stared out at the moon-drenched sea. She'd barely

nt

m to. Not after the way he'd lingered after d

here alone," he said q

acing him. "You

rd the horizon. "Beca

od too close, the soft light from the villa casting shadows on his face, highli

take," Dante mutter

d to one side. "Be

ned. "Because

is conversation before it became something that

brush of her fingers against his

ed, but he di

ena

s lips was a w

, stepping back. "

as she disappeared into her bedroom,

silence th

both

only the