Chapter 3

My hand stays on the doorframe. Every instinct screams run. But I've already died running from this man. Not again.

"Get out of my apartment."

Damien doesn't move. He looks exactly how I remember. Dark hair, perfect jaw, eyes that seem warm until you realize there's nothing behind them.

"Sit down, Eliana. I'm not here to fight."

"You broke into my home."

"The door was unlocked."

It wasn't. We both know it.

I stay standing. "Say what you came to say and leave."

He sighs, like I'm being unreasonable. That sigh — I heard it a thousand times in my last life. Every time I cried, every time I begged, every time I asked why he was doing this to me. That patient, disappointed sigh. Like I was the problem.

"I heard you've been talking to the Marchettis." He tilts his head. "That's a dangerous game."

"Business isn't a game."

"It is when you don't know the rules." He stands, walks toward me. I don't back up. "Those waterfront properties are complicated, Eliana. There are people who've been waiting years to get their hands on them. People a lot more dangerous than me."

"Is that a threat?"

"It's a warning. From someone who cares about you."

I almost laugh. Almost.

"You don't care about anyone, Damien. You never did."

Something shifts in his face. For a second — just a second — I see something real. Confusion, maybe. Like he genuinely doesn't understand why I'm not falling in line.

"I don't know what changed," he says quietly. "Three weeks ago, you were ready to sign. Your father said you were eager. And now you're tearing up contracts and making deals with my enemies?"

"People change."

"Not like this. Not overnight." He steps closer. His cologne hits me — expensive, suffocating. "What happened to you?"

I died. You killed me. I came back.

"Nothing happened. I just woke up."

He stares at me for a long time. Then his expression hardens.

"Fine. Have it your way. But those properties? I will get them. One way or another. And the Marchettis can't protect you. Nobody in this city can protect you from me."

He walks past me to the door, pauses.

"Harper's a poor substitute, by the way. She talks too much and understands nothing. But she was willing. That counts for something."

He leaves.

I lock the door. Chain it. Check every window.

Then I slide down the wall and sit on the floor, breathing hard.

He's right about one thing: the Marchettis aren't enough. I need more. I need someone powerful enough that even Damien Cross thinks twice.

The next morning, I meet Luca at the docks to finalize logistics.

He shows up with someone else.

Adrian Marchetti is nothing like his brother. Where Luca is polished and diplomatic, Adrian looks like he was carved from stone and never bothered to smooth the edges. Dark eyes, hard jaw, a scar cutting through his left eyebrow. He doesn't smile when we're introduced.

He doesn't shake my hand either.

"You're the Ashford girl." His voice is low, flat. Not a question.

"And you're the Marchetti who vets people."

His eyes narrow slightly. Luca clears his throat.

"Adrian, she's offering us—"

"I read the proposal." Adrian cuts him off without looking away from me. "It's good. Too good. Which means she wants something beyond what's on paper."

Smart. Dangerously smart.

"You're right," I say. "I need more than a business partner. Damien Cross broke into my apartment last night and threatened me. He will come after these properties, and when he does, I need someone standing next to me who makes him hesitate."

"And that's supposed to be us?"

"That's supposed to be you."

Adrian stares. Something flickers behind those dark eyes. Interest, maybe. Or suspicion. Hard to tell with him.

"I don't do charity," he says.

"Good. Because I'm not asking for it. Everything I'm offering is on the table. Equal terms. I don't need saving — I need a partner who isn't afraid of the Crosses."

The silence stretches. Luca shifts uncomfortably.

Then Adrian reaches into his jacket, pulls out a card, and holds it out.

"Tomorrow. My office. 9 AM. Bring your financials and your lawyer." He pauses. "And don't be late. I don't wait for anyone."

I take the card. Our fingers brush. His hand is rough, calloused. Not a businessman's hand. A soldier's.

"I won't be late."

He turns and walks away without another word.

Luca lets out a breath. "That went better than I expected."

"That was better than expected?"

"He gave you his card. Last person who asked for a meeting got told to go to hell." Luca grins. "My brother likes you."

"He looked like he wanted to interrogate me."

"Same thing, with Adrian."

I watch Adrian's silhouette disappear into a black SUV.

Cold. Controlled. Unreadable.

Nothing like Damien's false warmth.

Maybe that's exactly what I need.

That night, I'm going over financials when my phone lights up. Unknown number again.

A photo. Me at the docks today, standing next to Luca and Adrian. Taken from a distance. Someone was watching.

Below it, a text:

You really think the Marchettis can save you? Ask Adrian what happened to the last woman he tried to protect.

My blood goes cold.