The sound woke me before dawn.
It wasn't loud—just a faint scrape, like metal against metal—but in the quiet of the mansion, it was enough to jolt me upright.
I listened, holding my breath. For a moment, there was nothing. Then, another sound: a soft click, followed by footsteps in the hall.
I climbed out of bed and crossed to the door, pressing my ear against it. The steps were slow, measured, almost cautious. I thought about Damian's warning from last night—Do not wander.
My pulse thudded in my ears. This wasn't wandering. This was listening.
The footsteps stopped right outside my room.
A shadow slid under the door, long and narrow. I swallowed hard, my fingers curling into the fabric of my nightgown. Whoever it was didn't knock. They just stood there.
I told myself to move, to call for someone, but before I could, the shadow shifted. Then came the faintest whisper through the door, barely audible.
"Stay away from him… if you want to live."
My stomach dropped. I opened my mouth to speak, but the footsteps resumed, fading into the distance.
I stood frozen for several seconds before forcing myself to act. I grabbed my phone from the nightstand, but when I saw the time—4:02 a.m.—I hesitated. Calling Damian now felt… wrong.
Instead, I paced the room until dawn bled through the curtains. Only then did I venture out, my eyes darting down the long, empty hallway.
The mansion seemed different in daylight—still intimidating, but less like a labyrinth of secrets. I followed the faint smell of coffee until I found the kitchen, where a young woman in a maid's uniform was wiping down the counter.
She looked up when she saw me and smiled politely. "Good morning, Mrs. Moretti."
The title made my stomach twist. "Morning. What's your name?"
"Lucia." She hesitated, then lowered her voice. "You should eat early. Sometimes the boss leaves without warning, and it's easier to speak to him before he disappears."
I almost asked if she meant disappears for business or disappears entirely, but I kept quiet.
Damian didn't appear at breakfast. Instead, the tall man from last night—his second-in-command, I guessed—entered. He carried himself with the same quiet confidence as Damian, though his eyes lacked the same piercing weight.
"Boss had to leave," he said. "You're to stay inside today."
I frowned. "Someone was outside my room last night."
That got his attention. "Who?"
"I didn't see them. But they… they said I should stay away from Damian if I wanted to live."
His expression hardened. "What time?"
"Four in the morning."
He muttered something in Italian under his breath, then straightened. "Don't open your door to anyone unless it's me or the boss. Understand?"
I nodded.
The rest of the morning passed in a blur of unease. I tried reading, walking the gardens, even sitting in the massive library, but my mind kept circling back to that whisper. Who would warn me? And why?
By late afternoon, I was back in my room when the front gates slammed shut outside. Moments later, the sound of engines filled the driveway.
I went to the window just in time to see Damian step out of a black SUV. His suit jacket was missing, and his white shirt was streaked with something dark—oil? Blood? I couldn't tell.
I was still staring when his eyes lifted and locked with mine. Even from this distance, it was like being caught in a spotlight. I stepped back from the window instinctively.
A few minutes later, there was a knock. This time, I opened the door without hesitation.
Damian stood there, his shirt undone at the collar, his hair slightly disheveled. He looked… dangerous.
"Someone came to your door last night," he said, his voice like steel.
It wasn't a question.
I nodded. "How do you know?"
"I know everything that happens in this house." He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. "Tell me exactly what they said."
I repeated the words, and his jaw tightened with every syllable.
"That's a warning," he said finally. "But not from a friend."
"Then why warn me?"
"Because they want you to doubt me. Fear makes people careless, Elena." He moved closer, and I found myself stepping back until my legs brushed the edge of the bed. "And in my world, carelessness gets you killed."
I swallowed hard. "And if I told you I already doubted you?"
His lips curved—not into a smile, but into something darker. "Then I'll have to change that."
Before I could reply, he reached out and brushed a strand of hair from my face. The touch was gentle, but it felt more like a claim than comfort.
"I'll find out who came to your door," he said. "Until then, you don't go anywhere without me."
His gaze held mine for a long moment, then he turned and left, the door closing softly behind him.
I sat on the bed, my heart racing. A part of me wanted to believe his protectiveness was genuine. Another part whispered that in this house, even kindness could be a weapon.
And somewhere deep down, I knew that whatever game I had been pulled into, it was only just beginning.