Part 8:

Gallery to the residence, residence to the gallery, nowhere else. Selene felt unease prickle down her spine as she sat across from him. Dad, is something wrong? Richard rose from his chair and crossed to her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head with a gentleness that felt weighted with things he wasn’t saying. No, sweetheart. I just don’t want you out of my sight right now.

He left the dining room before she could ask anything else, and Seline sat alone with her cooling coffee, wondering what had put that look in her father’s eyes. Aleandro stood on the deck of his luxury motor yacht anchored in Monaco’s harbor, the morning sun catching on the water as he watched the coastline with eyes that saw more than most people ever would.

The captain approached from the helm, and Alessandro spoke without turning. I’ll be bringing a guest aboard. I need you to disable all the radar and tracking systems before we leave port. Ricardo, we can’t be followed. See, Senor Alesandro’s phone buzzed in his pocket, and when he saw the name on the screen, his jaw tightened.

Jani Lombardi, he answered on the third ring, keeping his voice neutral. Giani, his cousin’s voice came through sharp and impatient. You need to convince Richard Davenport to cooperate, otherwise we’re going to have to play our last card. There was a pause, waited with threat. I’m sending people to pick up the girl.

Aleandro’s hand tightened on the railing, his mind already racing through scenarios and contingencies. “Leave that to me,” he said, his voice coming out calmer than he felt. “I’ve already got the girl.” Silence on the other end, then Giani’s laugh cold and satisfied. “Good, keep her close, cousin. We might need her sooner than we thought.

” The line went dead. Aleandro stood on the deck staring at Monaco spread before him like a jeweled trap. And for the first time in his life he understood what it meant to be caught between loyalty and something that felt dangerously close to love. He had Selen’s trust now had her attention maybe even the beginning of her heart.

And he was about to use all of it to keep her alive. Selene pressed her fingers to her temples, staring at the same Monaet reproduction that had sat unsold on Galleria Bear’s wall for 3 months. “Another thrilling Tuesday in paradise,” she thought, right as the doorbell chimed. Alessandro Moretti walked in like he owned the place.

Two bodyguards blocked the door behind him. Seline’s pulse kicked hard. Into the rim of her glass, she breathed. “Why is he here?” Alessandro stopped at the counter, his stormy blue eyes fixed on hers. “I’ve come to get you.” Seline gripped the edge of the counter, forcing her voice steady. “I can’t. I’m working.

” Aleandro’s mouth curved into that dangerous smile. He didn’t even look away from her as he called out, “Madame Oair.” Her boss materialized from the back office instantly. Madame’s calculating gaze swept between them. Musio Moreti, how wonderful to see you again. Alessandro never looked away from Seline. Miss Davenport will be showing me some pieces this afternoon. At my yacht.

Madame’s smile sharpened. Of course, Seline, get your things. Seline’s cheeks burned. But madame. Her boss’s voice stayed polite but firm. Seline now. The Bentley smelled like leather and danger. You basically just kidnapped me, Selene said, pressing back against the door. Yet she couldn’t stop letting her eyes drag over him.

Equal parts fury and unwilling admiration. Seems that way, Aleandro said, his bitter smile not quite reaching his eyes. The marina appeared ahead. Million euro yachts lined the dock like toys. The car stopped at Port Hercules, Monaco’s crown jewel of maritime excess. Super yachts lined the harbor like floating palaces, each one a monument to unimaginable wealth.

Alessandro emerged first, then rounded the car to open her door himself, dismissing his men with a subtle gesture. Alessandro’s hand found hers as they walked toward a sleek black yacht. His thumb brushed her knuckles. “Don’t look so terrified.” She placed her palm in his, his fingers closed around hers, warm, strong, inevitable. He drew up at a sleek black yacht, all blade and gloss.

Diablo 2 shimmerred across the hull in silver. The gang way tipped into place. His hand found the small of her back, and they stepped aboard. The deck looked like a five-star setpiece, champagne on ice, caviar tins gleaming, canopes laid out like art. Selene laughed, sharp and disbelieving. “So this is about paintings, huh?” Allesandro moved behind her, his presence a wall of heat at her back.

His lips brushed her cheek, barely there, electric. Today you’re mine, Seline. The engines roared to life beneath their feet. Selene watched Monaco shrink in the distance, her champagne flute trembling. What have I gotten myself into? She thought, following the white wake the yacht carved across the water. She faced him, eyes bright, a playful tilt to her lips.

What is this really about, Alisandro? Aleandro’s expression darkened as his hand slid to her waist, drawing her a breath closer. You’ll know soon enough. The yacht picked up speed, heading toward open water, toward whatever Alessandro had planned, and Seline knew, with a shiver she couldn’t name, that this trip might start something.

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