The peace of the island was shattered by the arrival of a sleek, white-and-gold hydrofoil that cut through the Atlantic waves like a razor. Anna watched from the library window, her fingers stilled on the typewriter keys. She didn't need to be told that something had changed; she could feel it in the way the guards straightened their posture and the way the air in the manor seemed to grow thinner, more electric.
A woman stepped onto the pier. Even from the distance of the third story, she radiated a lethal, polished elegance. She was draped in cream-colored linen, her dark hair pulled back into a knot so tight it looked painful. This was **Isabella Moretti**.
"She's here," Mrs. Halloway whispered, standing in the doorway of the library with a tray of tea that rattled against the china. The old woman's face was pale. "Luciana's 'gift' to her brother. They grew up together in the old villas in Sicily. Her father was the Council's treasurer. She thinks she owns the ground Dante walks on."
Anna felt a strange, cold knot tighten in her stomach. "She's his fiancée?"
"In her mind? Yes. In the Council's mind? Absolutely," Mrs. Halloway said, setting the tea down with a sigh. "In Dante's mind? He has no room for anyone else. But Luciana is clever. She knows that if she can't break Dante with a bullet, she'll break him with a woman who knows his every secret."
An hour later, the library doors swung open with an arrogance that only blood-wealth can buy. Isabella walked in, the scent of expensive jasmine and cold spice preceding her. She ignored Anna entirely, her eyes fixed on the man standing by the fireplace.
"Dante," she cooed, her voice like honey poured over gravel. She walked toward him, her movements a calculated dance of silk and skin. "You've turned this place into a fortress. It's a bit lonely, don't you think?"
Dante didn't move. He didn't smile. He remained a statue of charcoal-colored wool and obsidian eyes. "Isabella. I wasn't informed of your visit. Luciana's timing is, as always, intrusive."
Isabella reached him and placed a manicured hand on his chest, her fingers splaying over the fabric of his shirt. "She's worried about you. We all are. You've been away from the city too long. You're forgetting who your real friends are."
Her eyes finally slid toward Anna, landing on her like a bird of prey spotting a field mouse. The warmth in her expression vanished, replaced by a chilling, aristocratic disdain. "And who is this? The help? I didn't know you were allowing the staff to work in your private sanctuary now."
Dante's jaw tightened—a small movement, but Anna saw it. "She is my personal assistant. Her presence is required."
"Assistant?" Isabella laughed, a sharp, ringing sound. "She looks like she crawled out of a gutter, Dante. Look at her hair, her clothes... she's a smudge on your perfect branding."
Isabella walked toward Anna's desk, her heels clicking with the rhythm of a firing squad. She ran a finger along the edge of the typewriter. "I hope she's at least efficient. I'd hate to think you're keeping her around for... other reasons. It would be such a waste of your time."
Anna stood up, her slum-bred pride flaring. She was shorter than Isabella, but she held her ground. "I type the words he says. If you have a problem with the work, take it up with him."
Isabella's eyes narrowed to slits. "The 'help' speaks. How quaint." She turned back to Dante, her voice dripping with mock pity. "She's adorable, in a stray-dog sort of way. But don't worry, darling. Now that I'm here, I'll take care of your 'needs.' You won't have to rely on the lower classes for company."
Dante's voice was a low, dangerous rumble. "Isabella. Go to your guest suite. I am busy."
"Of course, my love," she whispered, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to his cheek. Dante didn't lean away, but he didn't lean in, either. He remained a dark, immovable pillar.
As Isabella walked out, she paused by Anna's desk, leaning down so only Anna could hear her. "He's a Vane. He plays with toys until they break, then he throws them back in the trash. Know your place, little rat, or I'll help you find it at the bottom of the cliff."