The loyalty in the lie

pte

rs in

e distant clinking of wine glasses was accompanied by music from rooftop bars and laughter and secrets. Amid the go

the sea outside the marina. She was scandalous, beautiful, and untouchable as the Leone estate's heir. As she

when she

s chest. a day's stubble, an unlit cigar tucked behind one ear, and a navy linen blazer with an o

umn, watching her with the kind of i

lrooms but moved like a flame. He met her halfway. Their hands touched-his rough and warm against her

You're the only real

o be here," she replied, he

eze lifted her hair as they stood inches apart. Verdona's city lights shone like jewels scattered across vel

angerous, M

" he said. "B

-

deeper into the moment until the hum of hunger drowned out the sounds of the city. They slipped away from the party unnoticed, down candlelit hallways and into one of the Leone villa's upper suites. The room smelled of sandalwo

g was not hurrie

catching as his lips brushed her collarbone, then lower. The world narrowed to the sensation of skin agai

im, anchoring him to the earth, and his hands roamed her body with wonder, not possession. The rhythm between them built

he line of a scar across his ribs. He almost feared she would vanish as he gently stroked her hair with

to watch you." "But I didn

-

in the countryside, where poppies grew wild; in alleyways behind the opera house; in the hidden tunnels beneath Verdona's crumbling cathedrals. Each time they met, it was with the desperation of two people who knew time was a thief. Each kiss was a promise. A confession with each touch. In the high society of Verdona, power was currency-but for Isabella and Marcus, love was the onl

and the bloody puppeteer who controlled the capital's underbelly. But Isabella's world wasn't just full of secrets and violence. Celia Amador, her lifelong friend and public relations officer for Vendors Elite-the city's facade of order-kept Isabella grounded. Vivacious and driven, Celia had secrets of her own. Her quiet affair with Eduardo Casillas, a rising rebel leader waging war against both the state and Rafe's syndicate, threatened to

sought to uncover the truth about Verdona's decay. He saw the story and the woman in Isabella, an enigma with whom he was falling

rnalists as both a threat and a betrayal because she was regal, ruthless, and always watching.

la had her

on that could fracture both the syndicate and the state. Marcus, ever-loyal and silent in

l someone. She was loved by too many people, trusted by too few, and driven by a mission that could ki

was doing was venting. The call was to an old friend she trusted with her past, anxieties, and, regrettably, current problems. She hadn't realized

bers. Of people. Transactions." Her voice slightly trembled, but it wasn't from fear but rather from the heaviness of long-buried secrets. Marcus stood frozen by the doorway, listening to each word like a knife sliding slowly be

hours. Isabella's apologies were met with silence. The cautious intimacy, the quiet laughter, and everything else they had s

thdrew-methodically, painfully. He moved his files, locked away the drawers she once had access to, eve

bed one night. There was no dialogue. A message was

aunted by betrayal, slept in the study with the door shut and his dreams mute. Outside, threats were mounting. Marcus had enemies. Because of that on

more than just da