Adrian's grip on my arm was firm enough to bruise, but I didn't fight him. Fighting him in public would've been like tossing gasoline on an open flame — and with Rafael's smug promise still echoing in my ears, I didn't trust myself not to explode.
The ballroom's warmth gave way to the cool hush of a private corridor. His men moved ahead of us, checking corners with silent efficiency. Adrian didn't slow until we reached a heavy oak door. He swiped a card, punched in a code, and pushed me inside.
The room smelled faintly of leather and smoke, dimly lit by a single desk lamp. Shelves lined the walls, each one stacked with books and small artifacts that screamed old money and older power. In the far corner, a steel panel embedded in the wall gleamed — a safe.
"Sit," he ordered, gesturing toward a deep armchair.
I crossed my arms instead. "What am I, your prisoner now?"
His jaw tightened. "If that's what it takes to keep you alive, yes."
Before I could retort, his phone buzzed. He stepped aside, speaking low in Italian. I only caught fragments — breach… information leak… contact neutralized. But one word made my pulse spike: Rafael.
I took a step toward him. "What's going on?"
He turned, eyes dark. "Nothing you need to worry about."
"Wrong answer."
"Don't push me, Elena." His voice was quiet, but it carried the kind of weight that dared me to keep arguing. Of course, I did.
"You think I'm stupid? You drag me away from him, shove me in here, and I'm just supposed to sip champagne until you say it's safe?"
His gaze locked on mine, sharp and assessing. "There's a leak in my organization. Rafael knows things he shouldn't — and that puts you in danger."
Something cold twisted in my stomach. "How do you know it's not you he's targeting?"
A humorless smirk touched his lips. "Because Rafael's smart. And if he wanted me dead, I'd already be in the ground."
The casual way he said it made my skin prickle. This wasn't arrogance. This was a man who'd lived long enough in the shadows to know exactly how long his enemies' knives were.
"Why lock me in here?" I pressed.
"Because if Rafael's intel came from someone close to you…" He let the implication hang in the air.
My breath caught. "Close to me? What are you saying?"
"I'm saying," he stepped closer, his presence filling the space between us, "that until I know where the leak is, I'm not letting you out of my sight."
The air seemed heavier. His cologne — warm spice and something darker — wrapped around me, making it hard to think. "You can't just—"
"I can. And I will." His hand brushed a stray strand of hair from my face, a touch that felt almost tender until his fingers trailed down to my chin, tilting it up so I had to look at him. "You don't like my rules? Too bad. You agreed to this marriage, princessa. That means you live under my protection, my control."
The heat in his eyes made my pulse race for reasons I didn't want to examine too closely. "Control, huh? Sounds a lot like ownership."
His lips curved in a dangerous smile. "Maybe it is."
We stood there, neither willing to break the stare, until a sharp knock on the door shattered the moment.
Macro, Adrian's second-in-command, stepped in, tension radiating from every line of his body. "Boss. It's confirmed. The leak's coming from someone tied to her family."
My heart slammed against my ribs. "What? No. That's not possible."
Adrian's gaze never left mine. "Who?"
Macro hesitated, then glanced at me. "Her cousin. Matteo."
The name hit me like ice water. Matteo had been more like a brother than a cousin — the one who'd snuck me chocolate at family dinners, who'd made me laugh when everything felt heavy.
"No," I whispered. "You're wrong."
Macro's eyes softened, but his voice was steady. "We traced the calls. The account links to him. Rafael's people paid him."
Adrian didn't look surprised. That was what broke me.
"You knew," I accused, voice shaking. "You've known for days."
"I suspected," he corrected, tone calm in a way that made me want to scream. "I needed confirmation before I told you. Now I have it."
"And what were you planning to do? Just… take him out without telling me?"
His silence was answer enough.
Fury rose sharp in my chest. "He's my family, Adrian!"
"And he's a threat," he countered, voice steel. "In my world, that's all that matters."
I wanted to hate him in that moment — for his cold logic, for keeping this from me, for making it sound so damn simple. But underneath the anger was something else. Fear. Not just for Matteo, but for myself. Because if Adrian was right, I wasn't just a pawn in this war. I was bait.
He stepped closer again, lowering his voice. "I'll deal with Matteo. You stay here until I say otherwise."
"Like hell I will."
His smirk was pure provocation. "You're welcome to try and leave, princess. But you won't get far."
And the worst part? I knew he was right.