The elevator dinged just as I stepped into the living room, already dressed in my usual white blouse beneath a sweater, dark wintry trousers tucked into boots, my burgundy coat draped over my arm.
Alex sat on a stool at the kitchen bar, sipping his coffee while reading something on his iPad, when Sergio strolled into the penthouse.
"Pretty early of you to join us," Alex said, taking another sip.
"Well, it's not like you've ever given me a day off," Sergio replied, a stack of files tucked under one arm as he made his way toward the kitchen, giving me a brief nod when he passed by.
My lips parted, a flicker of unease settling in at the sight of Sergio, one of Alex's most trusted guards and spy, acting so nonchalant with his boss, as if they were...equals. Perhaps this was normal here, but it certainly hadn't been that way with my family.
"Isla, if you'd like to join us, please do," Alex said, his lips quirking at the sight of me. "Rather than standing there quietly, my love. You might want to see what Sergio's brought for us."
I lifted a hand, pointing briefly toward the elevator before letting it fall, the events of yesterday rushing back to me. Of course. Going to the office this early after what happened yesterday would be insane, wouldn't it?
And yet, I still had things to do. People to put back in line.
"Sergio's taken care of everything for you," Alex said. "Seriously, my love, come here."
I walked over to him, draping my coat over the back of the sofa as I approached my husband. He was still dressed in a tight workout T-shirt and shorts, looking like he had just returned from a run while I had been in the shower.
He extended a hand toward me, beckoning me closer and I accepted, settling into the chair beside him as my gaze dropped to the documents Sergio laid out before us.
"You look like you didn't get much sleep last night," Alex remarked, his eyes shifting to Sergio with amusement.
"I was busy trying to get this job done, sir," Sergio replied, tapping one of the documents. "I managed to obtain the real copy of his statement. It's already been sent out to everyone, including our business partners of Miss Ricci's—"
"Barinov," Alex corrected calmly, earning a questioning look from the both of us. "Mrs. Barinov. She's my wife."
"Right," Sergio said, inclining his head. "Mrs.Barinov's. Our lawyers made sure that everything connected to New York, and the other territories and businesses the Bianchis once held, was transferred to her."
"Thank you, Sergio," Alex aid, taking a sip of his coffee. "Is there anything else we need to know?"
"Nothing beyond the files I've given you," Sergio replied, clasping his hands behind his back. "They've also been notified of her...marital status." He paused. "And a word of advice, be careful, sir. They now consider her the enemy."
"I know," I said, swallowing the lump in my throat as my chest tightened. Alex's hand settled on my thigh, grounding me. "What about my grandfather? Has he woken up?"
"That," Sergio began, his cold, piercing gaze shifting to me, "is your silver lining. As long as he remains...unconscious, no final decisions can be made. Especially where his only bloodline is concerned. The will still stands. You remain his heiress."
He hesitated, then added, "They may not agree with your choice of husband, which I'm sure you're aware. No offence, sir."
"None taken." Alex said smugly.
"But they'll be powerless to act, for now."
They would still try. I knew exactly what Sergio was implying.
Because no matter how meticulously my grandfather had ensured that only a Ricci would ever be recognized, there would always be those willing to test it. Power, after all, was power. And to men like them, it was a forbidden fruit. Dangerous. Irresistibly tempting.
Moments later, after Sergio had left the penthouse and the files lay scattered between us, I found myself rising from the stool. I picked up Alex's empty coffee up and moved to the sink, rinsing it beneath the tap.
"I can do it," he said, starting to stand, but I stopped him.
"No, it's okay," I replied, focusing on the cup as I washed it. "I just...need to do something with my hands."
He stepped closer, his arms sliding around my waist, his lips brushing my shoulder. "Would it help if we got out of the city for awhile?"
"I wouldn't feel safe right now," I said, setting the clean mug onto the rack before reaching for a rag to wipe down the sink.
He caught my waist and gently turned me to face him.
"There's a hideout we could go to," he said, pulling me closer as the rag slipped from my fingers and fell behind me on the sink. "We'd disappear for awhile."
"No," I said quietly.
His body stilled, unaccustomed to being refused.
I placed my palms against his chest, letting the steady rhythm of his heartbeat calm me. "Not yet."
His gaze searched mine, sharp and assessing. "Isla—"
"I need to be seen," I cut in gently. "If I disappear now, they'll call it fear. Or weakness. I won't give them that." I swallowed, then lifted my chin. "I need to go to the office. I need to sit behind that desk and let them understand that this isn't temporary. That I'm here."
Silence stretched between us, tense and dangerous.
His jaw tightened. "It's not safe."
"I know," I said. "But it's necessary."
For a moment, I thought he might refuse outright. Then he exhaled slowly, his grip loosening only to tighten again, possessive rather than restraining.
"Fine," he said at last. "But you don't go alone."
I opened my mouth, already prepared to argue, but he was faster.
"The only way you set foot back in that office," he continued, voice low and absolute, "is if I walk in with you."
His thumb brushed my jaw, firm and unyielding. "That's the only way."
An hour later, the elevator doors to my office slid open with a muted chime.
Conversations died instantly.
I walked in without hurry, my heels measured, clicking softly against the marble floor. Faces turned toward me, then quickly away, fear settling in their expressions before they could mask it. Some stiffened in their seats. Others rose too late, chairs scraping faintly in their panic.
At Alex's insistence, bodyguards were already stationed along the perimeter, immovable, their presence heavy and deliberate.
He followed half a step behind me, his hand wrapped firmly around mine. I pretended not to notice the silence. Or the fear.
I crossed the floor without hesitation and stepped into my office. Alex closed the door behind us with a soft click, leaving Sergio outside.
That was when I stopped.
Standing on the opposite side of my desk, with New York's skyline stretching cold and vast behind him, was Camilla. Dressed in a black dress and a light cardigan. Her hands clasped right in front of her.
Waiting.