Chapter 61: Stay away from Eve

"What about the alliance?" she asked, grasping at strategy, at logic, at anything to make this make sense. "Our families control ninety percent of the eastern territories together. If we don’t marry, if the arrangement falls apart...."

"Then we’ll find another way to maintain the alliance. A business partnership. Shared territories. Whatever works." Dimitri’s expression softened, just slightly. "I’m not your enemy, Isabella. I don’t want to hurt you or your family. But I won’t marry you. Not now. Not ever."

"Because you love her."

"Yes."

Isabella turned away, walking back to the window, needing distance to process.

She’d prepared for many scenarios. Dimitri being difficult. Negotiating new terms. Even outright rejection.

But she hadn’t prepared for this....for him being so completely, irrevocably in love with someone else that there was no room for negotiation at all.

"Your father won’t accept this," she said finally.

"I don’t need his acceptance."

"He’ll make it difficult. For you. For her."

"Let him try."

Isabella turned back, studying Dimitri’s face. "You’d go to war with Antonio over this woman?" 𝒻𝘳ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝒷𝘯ℴ𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝑐ℴ𝑚

"Without hesitation."

The certainty in those two words told Isabella everything she needed to know.

She’d lost.

Before she’d even arrived, before she’d even met this Eve Thorne, she’d already lost.

But Isabella Russo hadn’t been raised to accept defeat gracefully.

"I’ll be in the city for a few weeks," she said, her voice carefully neutral. "Handling some business for my father. I expect we’ll run into each other."

"Isabella...."

"I won’t cause problems," she interrupted, smooth as silk. "I just want to... adjust. Process. Figure out what comes next for me."

It was a lie, and they both knew it.

But Dimitri was too much of a gentleman to call her on it.

"Stay away from Eve," he said quietly. "I mean it, Isabella. I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if you force my hand."

"I understand." She smiled, and it almost looked genuine. "Give me some credit, Dimitri. I know when I’m beaten."

Another lie.

Dimitri studied her for a long moment, then nodded once.

"I’ll see myself out." He moved to the door, paused. "For what it’s worth....I’m sorry. You deserved better than an arranged marriage to someone who could never love you back."

Then he was gone.

Isabella stood alone in the presidential suite, champagne untouched, dress perfect, hair flawless.

And for the first time in fourteen years, she let herself feel the full weight of her rage.

****

POV: DIMITRI

The drive back to the penthouse took thirty minutes.

Dimitri spent it in silence, Marco driving, the city lights blurring past the windows.

Isabella had taken it better than expected. Too well, actually.

Which meant she was planning something.

His phone buzzed. A text from Eve: How did it go?

He typed back: On my way home. She knows it’s over.

Did she accept it?

She said she did.

But you don’t believe her.

Dimitri smiled despite himself. She knew him too well.

No. She’s too calm. Too controlled. She’s planning something.

Then we’ll be ready.

We. She kept saying we. Like they were a unit. A team.

They were.

I love you, he typed.

The response came immediately: I love you too. Now hurry home. Nonna made tiramisu and she’s threatening to eat your portion if you don’t get here soon.

He laughed.....actually laughed.....and Marco glanced at him in the rearview mirror, eyebrows raised.

"Everything okay, boss?"

"Yes." Dimitri looked out the window, watching his city slide past. "Everything’s exactly as it should be."

Twenty minutes later, he walked into the penthouse to find Eve waiting by the elevator, bare feet and sleep shorts and one of his t-shirts.

She’d never looked more beautiful.

"Hi," she said softly.

"Hi." He pulled her into his arms, breathing her in. "Miss me?"

"Terribly." She tilted her head back, studying his face. "How bad was it?"

"She took it well. Said she understood. Claimed she knows when she’s beaten."

"And you think she’s lying."

"I know she’s lying." Dimitri pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Isabella doesn’t accept defeat. She regroups. Plans. Finds another angle."

"Then we’ll be ready for whatever she does." Eve’s hands fisted in his shirt. "Together."

"Together," he agreed.

From the kitchen, Nonna’s voice called: "Finalmente! Come eat before I give your tiramisu to Marco!"

They laughed, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

But as Dimitri followed Eve toward the kitchen, he couldn’t shake the feeling that the storm was just beginning.

Isabella was here.

And she wouldn’t leave until she’d tried everything in her power to take back what she thought belonged to her.

***

Two hours after Dimitri left, Isabella sat at the suite’s desk with her laptop open, reviewing everything her people had gathered on Eve Thorne.

Twenty-five years old. CEO of Phoenix Talent Agency. Recently divorced from Simon Ward, a weak man who’d cheated repeatedly.

No criminal record. No connections to their world before Dimitri.

Just an ordinary woman who’d been in the wrong place at the right time.

Or the right place, depending on perspective.

Isabella pulled up the surveillance photos her team had taken over the past week.

Eve leaving her office building, Marco always nearby.

Eve and Dimitri at a restaurant, his hand possessive on her lower back.

Eve in the penthouse windows, visible from the building across the street.

She studied each photo, cataloging details.

Pretty, but not extraordinarily so. Curvy. Dark hair. The kind of girl-next-door beauty that men like Dimitri probably found refreshing after a lifetime of women who looked like Isabella, polished, perfect, manufactured.

But there was something else in the photos. Something in the way Eve held herself. The way she looked at Dimitri.

Not fear. Not awe.

Certainty.

Like she knew exactly who he was and had chosen him anyway.

Isabella closed the laptop, reached for her phone.

The number she dialed was one she’d been saving for exactly this kind of situation.

It rang three times before a smooth voice answered.

"Signorina Russo. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I need information," Isabella said. "Everything you can find on Eve Thorne. Weaknesses. Fears. Pressure points. Things that aren’t in the public record."

"Of course. Anything specific you’re looking for?"

Isabella smiled, cold and calculated.

"I want to know what breaks her."