POV: Emilia Conti
By the time we returned to the penthouse, the atmosphere had shifted again.
Not louder. Quieter.
That was worse.
The guards moved differently now—less reactive, more deliberate. Doors opened before Alessio spoke. Conversations stopped before I entered the room. Whatever questions had started circulating weren't being asked out loud anymore.
They were being answered in private.
"You're thinking too fast," Alessio said as we stepped inside the elevator.
"I'm thinking just fast enough," I replied.
He glanced at me. "That meeting shouldn't have happened."
"You didn't stop it."
"I underestimated the timing," he said. "Not the intent."
"And now?" I asked.
"And now," he replied, "someone is forcing proximity."
The elevator doors closed. We descended in silence.
I watched our reflection in the mirrored wall—two people standing close without touching, both pretending the ground beneath us wasn't shifting.
