ISABELLA'S POV

"Sit!" Carla ordered, her voice filled with anger as she pointed to the couch in the corner.

I didn't argue. My legs were already beginning to wobble, and it was a miracle that I got home without passing out on the way.

I staggered slightly, barely managing to fucking take a seat on the couch while Carla stormed out of the kitchen and returned with the black first aid kit I had come to know too well after spending almost all my life here.

She dropped the kit to the floor and gave me a sharp look that told me that we were going to have a long talk.

She yanked up my sleeve and sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth as she looked at the wound. "Jesus, Isabella, this is deep." She pulled out a bottle of alcohol and gauze, slamming them onto the coffee table like it was my fault the bullet decided to graze me.

"It was either this or get shot in the head," I muttered, teeth clenched as the pain threatened to make me see stars.

"Don't sass me right now." She pulled on gloves, snapped them into place with too much force, then soaked the gauze with alcohol. "This is going to sting."

That was the understatement of the year.

"Shit!" I gasped, nearly biting through my tongue as she pressed the soaked cloth to my wound.

Oh my fuckingㅡ

"Hold still!" Carla shouted as I tried to yank my hand away. "You're lucky it didn't go deeper."

"Lucky is not the word I would use. I would rather not have gotten a fucking graze in the first place," I hissed, fighting the urge to slap her hand away again.

I had only gotten shot once since I started going about in mafia families, but I was passed out then when it was being treated.

Carla worked fast, her angry hands precise and efficient, her face tight with something between frustration and fear, but mostly frustration. "I told you to get out," she muttered under her breath as she dug into the kit for the needle and thread. "I told you not to go after him."

"I know," I whispered, voice weak now. My body was losing the adrenaline that had kept me standing, and the pain was setting in fully. I could feel my vision begin to blur already as blood soaked the cloth. Okay, maybe it was more than a slight graze.

"You're gonna pass out if you keep bleeding like this," she said, her voice clipped. "Tilt your head back. Now."

I did as she said, breathing heavily, preparing myself. She wanted to sew it shut.

"You're a goddamn idiot," she hissed as she threaded the needle. "Why didn't you just go through the nearest exit, huh? Why? And you fucking saved a Romano?!"

My eyes fluttered. "I don't know-he was gonna die. I just-" My breath caught in my throat as she started sewing.

The pain was blinding, and I almost screamed out.

"Don't you dare faint," Carla warned through clenched teeth.

I swallowed hard, gripping the edge of the couch with my good hand as I fought to stay awake. My body shook under her touch, every pull of the needle making my eyes roll back with pain.

Fuck. Fuck.

By the time she was done, I was already dizzy with pain.

Carla stood, took off the gloves, and tossed them into the bin. Then she stared at me like she was seeing me for the first timeㅡlike she didn't know what she was looking at anymore.

"You saved him," she said flatly. This wasn't something I wanted to talk about now. Hell, I was just trying to figure myself out. Why did I do that?

I winced and lowered my eyes. "It wasn't like that-"

"Wasn't it?" Her voice became sharper. "You stabbed a man. A black vulture! For Matteo Romano."

I licked my dry lips and struggled to find my voice as I looked at the woman who had taken me in after I lost everything. "He was injured. He was going to die."

"Good!" Carla snapped, pacing the room now. "That would've saved us both years of work!"

I remained silent, feeling smaller with every word.

She stopped suddenly and turned to me, her eyes cold. "Or was it because he's handsome? Is that it? Have I heard the stories of the charming heir? Did that get into your head? Is that why you saved him?"

Her words hit me like a slap, and I recoiled. I stared at her, stunned. "What? No! Carla-God, no! I-I didn't do it because of that!"

She didn't speak for a second, just stared at me, then she walked over to the cabinet near the TV and pulled out an old, worn folder that was fraying at the edges as she tossed it onto the table in front of me.

"I didn't want to show you these again," she said, her voice lower now. "But I think you need reminding."

I hesitated, and my hands shook as I reached for the folder.

Inside were pictures. Littered Bodies. My father's cold, lifeless eyes stared blankly up at the camera.

The house I had grown up in had been reduced to rubble.

I blinked hard as tears blurred the images. "I don't remember most of it, you know?" I whispered.

"I know," she said, softer now. "That's why I kept these. So you would never forget why we're here. So you would never forget what they did."

I clenched my jaw, feeling anger replace the pain.

Matteo Romano.

Carla sighed, closed the first aid kit, and set it aside without looking at me. "There's something else."

I didn't move; I just dropped the folder on the coffee table, not able to look at it again. "What?"

She moved closer and adjusted a towel beneath my stitched arm. "There's going to be an event at the Romanos next week. Invite only. Strictly"

I watched her face for any clue. "What kind of event?"

"A bride selection," she said simply. "Matteo's expected to choose a potential wife from a group of candidates who are going to be present. It'll be a competition and would take weeks, but get this... the participants will live in the villa too."

I blinked slowly, trying to understand what she was saying. "And?"

"We'll get you in." She crossed her hands.

I stared at her like she had gone mad. "Absolutely not."

Carla didn't flinch at my sudden refusal. "You'll go."

"I'm not doing that," I said matter-of-factly. "Getting that close to him? no. That's not the plan."

She finally looked at me, and her eyes burned with anger. "You were close enough to save his life tonight."

I went still as she continued.

"You didn't hesitate. You didn't walk away." She accused again.

"That was different," I muttered.

"No, it wasn't." Her voice was harder now. "And this isn't about your feelings. You'll go! Not for marriage. For access into the devil's lair. For intel. For the things we couldn't get tonight."

I didn't say anything. Couldn't.

Carla stood, stepping back. "You'll be just one of many. Keep your head down, play your part. Blend in. Get what we need, then leave."

I knew I had no say in it. She called the shots here.

She turned away and walked toward the hallway. "Rest. We start prepping your identity tomorrow."

As she left, I tipped my head back as I took several breaths. Stay low.

Shit.

I should have killed him when I had the chance.

MATTEO'S POV

My head tipped back against the hospital bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling as the sound of the heart monitor beeping steadily irritated me even further.

I had been stuck here for over twenty-four hours, trapped in this sterile building the family called a "private hospital."

The bullet had almost been fatal but thankfully, I was out of danger, and the doctor said I would be discharged by evening. I hated it here already.

There was a knock-two short raps. Familiar. I could feel my jaw clench as the door opened.

I already knew who it was.

Don Enzo Romano, my father, walked in, flanked by two of his usual guards that never left his side, his face was hard and I could feel the atmosphere in the room became thick with the tension.

The door shut behind him, and he barely spared me a glance before muttering, "Out. Leave us."

The guards didn't hesitate; they simply bowed and walked out, the door shut behind them.

The moment we were alone, silence descended heavily on us both.

I didn't move and he didn't sit on the low visitors chair that was beside my bed.

"I assume you know what I'm going to say," he began, voice as cold and collected as it had been since I was a kid.

I didn't respond for a moment, I just let my lips curve slightly, bitter and tired. "You're going to berate me for getting shot. For 'shaming the family' and for putting the Romano name in the mouth of every other bastard in this city."

His eyes narrowed and I could tell he wasn't exactly pleased by my accurate description. Too bad. "Good. Saves me the effort." He muttered.

He stepped closer, his gaze heavy. "Do you know how many phone calls I've answered in the last twenty-four hours? How many allies think we're 'weak' now because my son-my heir-was nearly gunned down in our own event like a damn rookie?"

I laughed under my breath, shaking my head slightly. "I was ambushed, not incompetent."

"Don't speak." He snapped at me, his voice cutting through like a whip.

I scowled, sitting forward slightly while trying to ignore the fresh ache in my abdomen.

"That stunt at the gala has thrown off negotiations with three syndicates," he continued. "And to top it all off, you still think you can run this empire with your arrogance and that mouth."

"And yet," I said calmly, "I'm the one bleeding in this bed, not constantly spying on his son while refusing to do something too"

That earned me a long, hard stare from him then he scoffed. "You're lucky you didn't die, Matteo but perhaps you should be more concerned about the next few days."

I looked up, my brows furrowed. "Why?"

He straightened his cufflink. "Because the event is underway."

My brow twitched. "What event?"

"The bride selection."

I laughed again, but it didn't reach my eyes. "I told you, I said it more times than I can count, I'm not interested in parading women like cattle just to choose one."

Don Enzo didn't laugh. Instead, he gave me the last blow-calmly, without flinching. "Then let me make this clear. I've announced my retirement. Publicly. And I've signed the legal transition documents."

My blood ran cold. "What?"

"In my will," he continued, his voice devoid of any emotion. "you take control of the Romano estate but only on one condition. You marry within the next three months. If not, everything-everything passes to Rico."

I stared at him, stunned. The room seemed to spin as I tried to come to terms to what he was saying. "My bastard half-brother? You would give the empire to him?"

"If you continue to shame this family and act like a boy instead of a leader," he said, eyes locked on mine, "then yes. Gladly."

I clenched my fists under the sheets. Marriage. I didn't believe in it. Especially not one arranged by my father for the sake of more power but I wasn't about to hand over my birthright to someone who didn't earn it.

"...Fine," I said, my voice tight. "I'll do it."

Don Enzo gave a small nod, like he knew I would. He turned toward the door.

"One week," he said. "Impress me."

Then he was gone.

********************

A WEEK LATER

The sun was high in the sky but not scorching as we all gathered in the garden of the Romanos Villa. I sat at the forefront, flanked closely by trusted guards, while I looked at the women who had just arrived for the competition that would take the span of two weeks.

They called it a competition, but I called it a joke.

I sat at the head of the table, my eyes distant, ankle crossed, bored out of my mind.

They were all here. Some daughters of mafia syndicates thought marrying into the Romanos was a way of pushing their family up the power ladder. Others were just city-bred wannabes in expensive shoes who wanted a taste of the power that the underground business had to offer if they were picked.

They were all pretending not to look at me and they were all failing woefully.

"Left side," my bodyguard, Theo, leaned down and whispered. "Two of them are already plotting who gets to speak to you first after the party. I overheard them."

I didn't react and he continued.

"They're also very attractive. The blonde one is the daughter of Luca, biggest drug cartel," he added, amused. "Should I keep track for you?"

I was about to tell him to shut up when I glanced up idly and stopped breathing for a second.

Off to the far side of the garden, near the orchids stood a woman with her dark hair down, not even sparing me a glance. She wasn't laughing but wasn't talking. She was watching another girl across from her with a strange focus.

But I saw her eyes. Blue.

That was what made me freeze and almost fall out my chair.

Theo straightened beside me. "You good?"

I didn't answer because I knew those eyes.

I had seen them before, but under a mask.

Her.

The girl from that night. The one who saved me.

The one who had plagued my mind for a whole week now. The one that got me intrigued.

"I need her name," I muttered under my breath.

Theo blinked and looked around. "Who?"

"The one by the orchids. Blue eyes. Black hair. Strapless gown." I said breathlessly, unable to tear my gaze away.

Theo glanced discreetly. "Hold on."

I stared at her as he pulled out a tablet and began scrolling through the registry. My pulse had picked up for the first time all day.

If it was her... if it really was her... Then this competition was already over before it could even begin.

ISABELLA'S POV

It felt weird. I couldn't come here with any weapons. Neither could I come here with an earpiece. Security had gotten tight at the Romanos Villa after the shooting last week. We had been searched thoroughly before being let in and there were guards watching us right now.

I was on my own for at least a week.

Shit.

I needed Intel and I wasn't going to get it by sitting in the darkest corner at dinner. I had successfully avoided everyone at the garden in the afternoon. Not like anyone wanted to talk to me anyways. They kept sending me glares and I could tell no one liked the other. They all wanted a goal. Him. And they were ready to tear themselves apart for it.

I smoothed the crease on the silk of my dress and reminded myself I didn’t care. The other girls could tear themselves to bits for him. I was here for one thing—information.

The dinner was in the inner villa, a grand, beautiful hall lined with golden mirrors and chandeliers that looked like they cost more than my entire hometown.

The food was an assortment that would have made my mouth water but I could only toy with it with my fork. This was going to take a while to get used to. And the women. So many women, dressed like sin and seduction itself, clinging to every word that fell from Matteo Romano’s lips.

He sat at the head of the table, looking cool and relaxed like every inch of the dickhead he was, with a few of his people flanking him—his consigliere, a few of his captains, and some dignitaries who were clearly there to make sure everything was going smoothly. Fucking bastards.

The girl next to me leaned in, whispering something about how good he looked in black but I didn’t reply. I think we all knew that he was like a walking sex god but whatever.

I kept my eyes down and drank slowly, playing my role which was unbothered, unremarkable, invisible.

But then the blonde one—Victoria, I think—shifted in her seat and tilted her body in Matteo’s direction, her voice silky and soft.

“Matteo,” she purred, licking the rim of her glass like she was starving for something else. “If your future wife disobeys… will you punish her in private or make it a public lesson?”

Everyone burst into a ridiculous high pitched laughter that sounded forced.

I nearly choked on my drink.

What the hell?

He chuckled lowly, raising his brow. “That depends… on how creative her disobedience is.”

More laughter. Flirty eyes thrown at him. Fake smiles. Like hyenas begging to be devoured.

I didn’t get what was funny. I really didn’t. I forced a smile, sipped water, and counted the exits.

Two guards stood at the side doors, another at the far end of the room. The main house was still a mystery. I needed to move. Dinner would end soon, and we would all be escorted back to our assigned quarters and I wouldn't be able to look around the place for future reference.

Then I saw my opportunity. One of the ladies, someone in red, stood up, excused herself to the bathroom. A guard pointed the way, then returned to his post.

I waited three seconds then I slipped my napkin down and rose slowly, smoothing my gown as I whispered a polite, “Excuse me.”

No one noticed, they were still too busy fawning over him.

I followed the hallway, catching sight of the red dress as the girl exited the bathroom, heels clacking as she passed me with a scowl like I had just insulted her very existence with my presence there. No one liked a pretty competition.

Jeez.

I gave her a polite smile. She looked me up and down, unimpressed, and walked off.

Good. Less distractions.

I glanced around. No one in the corridor. I slipped past the bathroom and slipped deeper into the villa. The walls were dark, adorned with paintings and I heard muffled voices from distant rooms, too far to hear.

My heels were silent on the rug as I moved quickly, carefully, mapping out the halls so I could make a map of it as soon as I got to my quarters.

Then I heard it. Footsteps.

Shit.

I ducked behind a large pillar, holding my breath.

The steps paused… then passed.

I exhaled and straightened only to feel a hand clamp down on my shoulder.

Reacting on instinct, I spun, my elbow jabbing toward the throat only to have it caught midair. My other hand went for the nose—also blocked.

Fuck!

A second later, my back hit the wall with a soft thud and I realized I was pinned. What the hell?

I looked up. Hazel eyes.

No. Not him.

Matteo Romano stared down at me, a strange flicker of interest in his eyes, his breath was calm and his hands were steady.

I felt sick as I realized who I had just walked right into.

His voice was amused. “Do you always attack people who tap you gently?”

I said nothing, my eyes wide.

He stepped back, giving me space. I immediately adjusted my dress and cleared my throat. “I was startled,” I said, schooling my features into practiced innocence. “Reflexes. I didn’t know it was you or anyone else. Just fear. I… I’ll go back to dinner now.”

I turned to leave but he stopped me.

“Wait.” His voice was soft as he stepped closer. “Who are you?”

I turned back to him, my smile never wavering while I tried to slow my heart rate racing. “Oh, it's Emilia Cattaneo from Verona.” I lied.

He stared at me, his gaze unwavering. “Funny because last week… you said your name was Juliette”

My blood froze. He remembered? No way.

My mouth opened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You must have mistaken me for someone else.”

His smile vanished and I could make out the tick in his jaw. “Don’t lie to me in my house.”

I held my breath, every exit plan disintegrating in my mind.

He wasn’t flustered. He wasn’t angry. He was calm, too calm, and it terrified me.

I thought of running then he said it. “The competition will last two weeks,” he murmured, like he was thinking out loud. “But… it’s a good thing I’ve already made up my mind.”

My brows furrowed. “Excuse me?”

He smiled slightly. “You. You’re the one.”

I blinked. What?

“No,” I said quickly. “I think you're confusing me with someone else. I’m not even—”

“—Emilia,” he said, cutting me off, using the fake name. “If that’s who you are, then consider this my early proposal.”

I stared at him, heart hammering.

“Marry me,” he said. “At the end of two weeks.”

Excuse me?