The Romano estate was quiet in the morning. Too quiet.
Lina stood on the expansive balcony outside her guest suite, gazing over the lush Mediterranean gardens below. The marble beneath her bare feet was cold, but her blood was colder. She hadn't slept. Not because of the new surroundings, but because of the decision weighing on her.
A marriage. An alliance. A truce sealed with vows.
And Dominic Romano.
She could still hear his voice from the night before—smooth, deliberate, laced with arrogance and something darker. She hated that she found his presence intriguing. Dangerous, yes—but also magnetic. He was every bit the devil she'd been warned about.
But so was she.
She stepped back inside, already dressed in black slacks and a blouse crisp enough to command attention. Her security instincts were sharp; she never let herself appear vulnerable, not even in private.
A knock sounded. Two firm raps.
"Yes?" she called.
A maid stepped in, head bowed. "Señor Romano requests your presence in the courtyard. Breakfast is served."
Lina nodded silently and followed. The villa's halls were just as she remembered—opulent, intimidating, and watched. Every corridor had at least one armed man standing idle, pretending not to notice her but watching all the same.
The courtyard was bathed in golden light. Dominic was already seated at a wrought-iron table, casually reading through a file as if this were a boardroom meeting. The table was set for two—orange juice, fresh bread, jamón, and strong black coffee. Traditional. Spanish.
"Buenos días," he said, not looking up.
"You know," she said, pulling out the chair across from him, "it's unnerving how comfortable you are with this."
He finally met her gaze. "I'm not comfortable. I'm efficient."
She poured herself coffee without asking. "Same thing in your world?"
"In mine, yes. And yours, too, from what I've read." he replied.
Lina leaned back. "How much digging have you done?"
"Not much actually." Dominic said with a smile. "Just that you left the family business a year ago and started a private security firm in Paris."
"I see I've impressed you," she said, arching a brow.
"You've intrigued me," he corrected. "There's a difference. But still... something tells me you've done more than just establishing a company of your own."
Lina shrugged. "What can I say... I'm quite the freelancer."
Before Dominic could respond, Marco—his right hand man, approached with a sealed envelope. He handed it directly to Dominic, who opened it without ceremony. His eyes scanned the contents. A muscle in his jaw tightened.
"What is it?" Lina asked, sensing the shift.
Dominic handed her the paper. It was a surveillance photo. One of Joaquin... her father. Meeting with someone he shouldn't be meeting at all—Lazaro Ortega, the leader of a violent breakaway faction that had splintered from the Morales cartel years ago. One later revealed to be responsible for the death of her mother.
Lina's stomach turned. "This doesn't make sense. Ortega is the enemy. He's the reason i lost my mother. And he also tried to assassinate my father three years ago."
Dominic's eyes narrowed. "Then why is your father shaking hands with him in broad daylight?"
A long silence fell.
Lina stared at the image again. Her father wasn't just forcing a marriage—he was playing a deeper game. One she wasn't privy to.
"I need to speak with him," she said, rising.
Dominic stood as well. "You'll do nothing without backup. If your father's making moves behind your back, we need to be smarter. Not reckless."
Lina's eyes flashed. "He's still my father."
"He's also a cartel boss. One who may have just handed our alliance to someone else."
The words struck hard.
She inched towards Dominic with a clenched fist. "Don't you dare accuse my father of something that terrible. Ortega was the reason his wife... my mother was killed. He's the reason the entire Spanish mafia almost got wiped out by the British syndicate."
"And you're telling me that after all that, my father would just shake hands with him again and rekindle their lost friendship?" Lina added with a frown. "No... I don't believe this. I don't believe you."
Dominic exhaled. "Yes Lazaro did these things... but you know your father, Lina. He is a..."
"I don't want to hear it." she cut him off. "I don't care about anything you're saying, and I'll never believe this. So for the sake of your own well-being, i suggest you never bring up this matter again."
Lina threatened and without waiting for a reply, turned away, her heart pounding with fury. Her father had always been manipulative, always five steps ahead. But if he was dealing with Ortega, this marriage wasn't about peace. It was a smokescreen.
Dominic sighed as Lina stormed off. "For a second there, i thought she might bite my head off." he chuckled, admiring her fierceness.
Marco nodded. "Yes, she's quite... terrifying. I heard she once subdued five armed men with her bare hands."
Dominic smiled. "She didn't use her hands, Marco. She used her wit."
...
Lina slammed the door to her room, hands trembling—not with fear, but anger and disbelief. The surveillance photo burned in her mind. Her father, shaking hands with Ortega, the man who was the reason her mother wasn't alive today.
"No," she whispered. "He wouldn't. Not even he's that reckless."
She paced the room, her boots clicking against the tiled floor. Her father could be cruel, manipulative, controlling. But treason? Aligning with Ortega—the lunatic who nearly fractured their entire syndicate?
That wasn't Joaquín Morales. That wasn't the Don.
Still, the image. That damn image.
Lina's fists clenched. She didn't want to believe it—but part of her hated how easily doubt had crept in. But maybe that was what Dominic wanted. Confusion. Division.
Because why was he showing her that now? It was obvious that it's just a part of his game.
"That fox." Lina gritted her teeth, having put two and two together. "What exactly is he trying to achieve by making me angry at Papa?"
"But... what if he isn't lying and father's actually working with Ortega?" she pondered, just before a soft knock interrupted her thoughts.
She didn't answer. She could already guess who it was.
But the door opened anyway.
Dominic entered, slow and casual like he owned the place. Like he owned the moment. And frankly, he actually did.
"I should've guessed you wouldn't take it well," he said.
Lina turned sharply. "You show me a photo that implies my father is betraying us and expect me to take it calmly?"
"I expected you to question it," he replied, voice low and even. "Which you did. And that's good."
She narrowed her eyes. "What are you playing at?"
Dominic stepped forward, not too close, but close enough that the air between them shifted into something more thicker, charged. "The photo was a test. It's real—but it's old. From years ago, back when your father and Ortega were still allies."
Lina's jaw tightened. "So this whole thing... was a lie?"
He shrugged slightly. "A misdirection. I needed to know where you stood."
Her chest rose with a slow, furious breath. She was relieved, yet annoyed. It was something she'd figured out already. But hearing Dominic admit it casually made her pissed.
"And what did you learn?" she frowned.
Dominic's gaze dropped to her lips for half a second before meeting her eyes again. "That you're loyal. That even after a year away, you still have your father's back."
Lina folded her arms. "That doesn't mean I'm blind."
"No," he said with a faint smirk, "it means you're dangerous. And I like dangerous."
She glared, but her heartbeat betrayed her. She hated the effect he had on her—this balance between irritation and fascination.
"I actually came to apologize," he added. "And to ask if you'd like to go shopping. I noticed your wardrobe's a little... tactical."
Lina blinked. "Shopping?"
He gestured to her black combat-ready outfit hanging on the wall. "You're supposed to be a bride. Unless you plan to walk down the aisle in a body armor."
She scoffed. "And what if I want to? Who's going to stop me?"
Dominic smiled, genuine for a moment. "Humor me. Pick a few dresses. Play the role. Besides, watching you intimidate boutique attendants might be the highlight of my week."
Lina's mouth twitched, almost betraying a smile. "Fine. But if one more person tries to test my loyalty, I'll stop playing and burn everything down."
Dominic nodded, eyes lingering on her for a beat too long. "Noted. Be ready, we leave in a few hours."
Then he turned and left without another word
...
Outside, Marco was waiting, arms crossed. "She's not going to help us," he said the moment Dominic approached. "You saw how she defended her father. That kind of loyalty isn't breakable."
Dominic didn't answer at first. He watched the breeze play with the olive trees across the courtyard.
"No," he finally said. "It's not breakable. But it's not to him... not really."
Marco frowned. "What do you mean?"
"She's not loyal to the man. She's loyal to the idea of doing what's right. She believes in protecting what's hers, in justice... twisted as her version of it may be."
Marco looked unconvinced. "And that helps us how?"
Dominic smirked. "It means we can still turn her. If she learns what her father's really done... what he's planning, she won't stand by him. She'll fight. Maybe even with us."
Marco raised a brow. "And if she doesn't?"
Dominic's eyes darkened. "If she stays neutral, we spare her. She'll be a useful non-combatant."
Marco exhaled. "And if she chooses him?"
A pause.
Dominic's voice was low, cold. "Then she dies with him."