Bella’s expression changed. The warmth in her eyes cooled, replaced by worry. She turned in her chair to face him, her hands resting on his forearms, her fingers curling into the fabric of his suit jacket.

"Can we not go?" she asked, her voice soft but urgent. "I don’t feel good about this. We know he’s planning something. We know he’s setting some kind of trap. Why are we walking into his den willingly?"

Leo looked at her. Her brown eyes were troubled, her brow furrowed. He understood her fear. He felt it too. Every instinct screamed at him to keep her away from Nicolas, to protect her from whatever schemes were being woven in that grand, pretentious house.

But some things couldn’t be avoided.

"If it weren’t important, I wouldn’t go," he said, his voice deep and honest. "There are some reasons. Alliances that need to be maintained. Appearances that must be kept up. Nicolas’s parents are still respected in certain circles. If we don’t show up, it sends a message, a message that we’re afraid, that we’re hiding, that we’re weak."

He paused, his jaw tightening. "I can’t explain it fully. But trust me, if I could avoid it, I would."

Bella was silent for a moment, her eyes searching his face.

"Alright," she said finally. "I trust you."

"But if he does something to harm my family," she added, her voice suddenly fierce, "if he even tries, we will never let him go. Even if his parents are great friends of our family. Even if the entire mafia council is watching. I don’t care."

Leo’s eyes softened. He admired her strength, her fierceness. She was no longer the shy girl who had entered his life. She was a woman who would protect her loved ones with everything she had.

He reached out and rubbed her hair roughly, his fingers tousling the perfect waves her stylist had worked so hard on.

"Noo..." Bella whined, glaring at him. "You ruined my hair!"

He chuckled, a low, warm sound. "You still look beautiful."

"Leo!"

"I’m serious."

She pouted, but her eyes were sparkling with amusement.

"I spent hours on this," she said, trying to fix the strands he had messed up. Her fingers worked through the tangles, attempting to restore the carefully crafted waves.

Leo caught her wrist gently, stopping her movements. His thumb brushed over her pulse point, feeling the rapid beat beneath her skin.

"You don’t need perfect hair," he said, his voice dropping lower. "You don’t need all of this. You could walk into that party in your pajamas, and you would still be the most beautiful woman there."

Bella’s cheeks flushed. "That’s not true."

"It is." He said, and Bella’s cheeks became even redder.

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

The car pulled up to the grand estate, and Bella’s breath caught. The house was magnificent, old money, old power, old secrets. It rose from the manicured grounds like a sleeping giant, its windows glowing with warm, golden light. The driveway was lined with luxury cars, their surfaces reflecting the stars above. The sound of laughter and clinking glasses drifted through the open doors, mingling with the soft strains of classical music.

Leo stepped out first, his hand extended to help Bella. She took it, her fingers cool against his warmth. Her dress flowed around her like liquid moonlight, the light beige fabric catching the soft glow of the lanterns lining the path.

They walked through the grand entrance, and Bella’s eyes swept the room. It was sophisticated and elegant, the kind of party where every detail was carefully curated, from the crystal chandeliers to the fresh flowers arranged in tall vases. The lighting was dim and intimate, casting long shadows across the marble floors. Guests mingled in small clusters, their laughter low and practiced, their glasses filled with deep red wine.

Bella found a seat near the edge of the room, her eyes scanning the crowd. She spotted a small table with an array of desserts and picked up a piece of cheesecake, savoring the creamy sweetness. It was delicious, but she barely tasted it. Her mind was elsewhere.

Leo stood beside her, a glass of whiskey in his hand. His gray eyes were sharp as he watched the room like a predator, cataloging every face, every movement, every potential threat. His jaw was tight, his shoulders rigid.

"He’s here," Leo murmured.

Bella followed his gaze.

Nicolas stood across the room, surrounded by a small group of admirers. He was wearing a perfectly tailored suit, his dark hair styled immaculately, his smile wide and practiced. On his arm was a woman, a beautiful woman. Her skin was flawless, almost porcelain, her features sharp and symmetrical. She looked like a doll, like something that had been manufactured rather than born.

Bella recognized her. She was a famous model, her face plastered on billboards and magazine covers. But up close, there was something about her that felt fake and plastic.

Nicolas laughed at something she said, his hand resting on her waist. His eyes swept the room, landing on Bella for just a moment before moving on.

The minutes passed. The party swirled around them. Then the door opened, and Dominique and Hazel arrived.

Dominique was wearing a three-piece black suit, perfectly tailored, hugging his broad shoulders and narrow waist. His dark hair was styled back, his jaw clean-shaven, his smile elegant and controlled. He looked like a prince, like he had stepped out of a magazine spread. His usual playful energy was tempered, replaced by a calm, confident grace.

And Hazel, Hazel was stunning.

She wore a red evening gown that hugged her curves, the fabric flowing like liquid fire. The neckline was modest but flattering and the back dipped low, revealing the elegant curve of her spine. Her scar was barely noticeable tonight, her hair was styled to fall across her cheek, softening her features. She moved with confidence, her head held high.

They stole the show. Every eye in the room turned to them.

Nicolas’s jaw clenched.

His smile faltered, just for a moment, before snapping back into place. He excused himself from his companion and walked toward them, his expression warm and welcoming.

"Dominique! Hazel!" he called out, his voice loud and friendly. "I’m so glad you could make it."

Dominique smiled, cool and elegant. "Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Nicolas."

Hazel inclined her head, her eyes cool and cold.

Nicolas’s female companion appeared at his side, her hand resting possessively on his arm. She smiled at Hazel, her eyes sharp and assessing.

"Nicolas has told me so much about you," she said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "You’re even more beautiful than he described."