The snowstorm over Manhattan lasted through most of the next day.

By evening, the city had transformed into blurred headlights, frozen sidewalks, and impatient traffic crawling through slush-covered streets. From the outside, the Moretti penthouse still looked untouchable high above the skyline.

Inside, Valentina felt like she was suffocating.

Luca hadn’t returned home.

Again.

No explanation. No message. No apology.

Not that she expected one anymore.

She sat alone at the dining table shortly after eight, pretending to eat while financial reports remained open across her tablet screen. Numbers calmed her. Numbers obeyed patterns. Men rarely did.

The offshore transfers she’d been quietly tracking for weeks were getting larger.

Faster.

Messier.

Something was happening inside the Moretti organization, and Luca was hiding it badly.

Valentina zoomed in on another transfer record just as the elevator doors opened across the penthouse.

Adrian stepped inside first.

Always first.

His eyes swept across the apartment automatically before landing on her at the table. He wore a dark charcoal coat over black clothes, snow melting faintly against his shoulders.

“You’re late,” Valentina said without looking up fully.

“You noticed.”

“I notice everything.”

“That sounds exhausting.”

“It is.”

A faint shadow of amusement crossed his expression before disappearing again.

Adrian removed his gloves slowly and placed them near the counter. “Luca called. He won’t be home tonight.”

Valentina finally looked up from the tablet. “Did he mention which mistress he’s busy disappointing instead?”

“No.”

“Professional as always.”

Adrian didn’t respond to that.

He rarely reacted when she mentioned Luca’s affairs, but she had started noticing something else recently. Every time Luca’s name came up, Adrian became quieter. Colder.

Not jealous.

Not emotional.

Just tense.

As if Luca’s existence itself irritated him.

Valentina closed the tablet and stood from the table. The oversized white sweater she wore slipped slightly off one shoulder as she crossed the kitchen.

“I’m going out,” she said casually.

Adrian’s gaze lifted immediately. “Where?”

“That sounded suspiciously close to a question.”

“It was a question.”

She grabbed her coat from the chair nearby. “And I’m suspiciously close to not answering it.”

“You have an active threat against you.”

“I have an active marriage against me too. Somehow I’m surviving both.”

Adrian watched her for a moment without speaking.

That silence again.

Most men rushed to fill silence with ego. Adrian used it like pressure.

Finally he said, “Where are you going?”

Valentina slipped her phone into her coat pocket. “Out.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one you’re getting.”

She moved toward the elevator anyway.

Adrian followed.

Of course he did.

The private elevator doors opened with a soft metallic sound, and Valentina stepped inside without slowing. Adrian entered beside her just before the doors closed.

“You’re not subtle,” she said.

“I’m not trying to be.”

The elevator descended smoothly toward the underground garage while tension gathered quietly between them.

Valentina leaned against the mirrored wall with crossed arms. “You know, most bodyguards at least pretend their clients have freedom.”

“Most bodyguards don’t expect assassination attempts after charity events.”

“That could’ve been random.”

“It wasn’t.”

His certainty irritated her immediately.

Maybe because part of her suspected he was right.

The elevator opened into the underground garage, where black luxury cars gleamed beneath harsh white lighting. The air smelled faintly of gasoline and cold concrete.

Valentina headed toward a dark gray Maserati parked near the far wall.

Adrian kept pace beside her.

“I’m driving myself tonight,” she said.

“No.”

The answer came instantly.

She stopped walking and turned toward him fully. “Excuse me?”

“You shouldn’t go anywhere alone.”

“I wasn’t asking permission.”

“You’re still not going alone.”

For the first time since meeting him, genuine irritation flared through her chest.

Not because he was wrong.

Because he was starting to sound like Luca.

Controlled.

Restrictive.

Protective in ways that felt too close to ownership.

Valentina stepped closer until only a small distance remained between them. “Let’s clarify something right now, Adrian. You work for my husband. That does not mean you control me.”

His expression never changed, but his eyes sharpened slightly.

“I’m trying to keep you alive.”

“I’ve managed that myself for twenty-six years.”

“And how’s that working out lately?”

The words landed harder than she expected.

Her jaw tightened instantly.

For a brief second, neither of them moved.

The garage suddenly felt much quieter.

Adrian noticed the shift immediately.

Something flickered across his face then—not regret exactly, but awareness.

“I didn’t mean—”

“Yes, you did,” Valentina interrupted softly. “You just decided honesty mattered more.”

He held her gaze steadily.

“That’s usually safer.”

“Not in my experience.”

For a moment, the tension between them became something stranger than anger. Too sharp to ignore. Too aware.

Valentina looked away first and unlocked the Maserati remotely.

“I’m leaving,” she said calmly. “You can either stay here or follow me badly enough that I notice.”

“I’ll follow you well enough that nobody else does.”

That almost made her smile.

Almost.

Twenty minutes later, Manhattan blurred past through snowfall and streaks of neon light as Valentina drove downtown through the financial district. The roads were slick with ice, and traffic moved slowly beneath the storm.

She checked the rearview mirror once.

A black SUV remained three vehicles behind her.

Predictable.

By the time she parked near an old brick building on the Lower East Side, Adrian’s SUV pulled smoothly against the curb half a block away.

Valentina stepped from the Maserati and immediately pulled her coat tighter against the freezing wind.

The neighborhood looked forgotten compared to the polished wealth of Upper Manhattan. Old storefronts. Flickering signs. Narrow alleys half-covered in snow.

Adrian approached quietly behind her.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said.

“You say that everywhere.”

“This place is worse.”

“Comforting.”

She started toward the building entrance anyway.

Adrian caught up beside her near the stairwell. “Who are you meeting?”

Valentina stopped at the door and finally looked at him properly.

The snow caught faintly in his hair again. His shoulders remained tense beneath the dark coat, eyes scanning the street automatically even while talking to her.

Always working.

Always watching.

“You know what your problem is?” she asked softly.

“I’m sure you’ll tell me.”

“You keep trying to figure out whether I’m lying.” Her gaze held his steadily. “You haven’t realized I never tell the full truth to anyone.”

Something unreadable passed briefly through his expression.

Then his eyes shifted toward the second-floor windows above them.

Alert again.

Instantly.

The change in him happened so fast it almost looked inhuman.

“What is it?” Valentina asked quietly.

Adrian didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, he stepped closer to her, one hand lightly touching the small of her back as he guided her away from the open sidewalk.

The gesture should have felt controlling.

Instead, it felt protective.

“There’s someone inside watching the entrance,” he said calmly. “And he noticed you before we reached the building.”

Valentina’s pulse slowed instead of rising.

Danger always made the world feel strangely clearer.

She glanced toward the dark second-floor window.

Then back toward Adrian.

“You still want to follow me?” she asked.

His gray-blue eyes met hers beneath the falling snow.

“I was never planning to stop.”